Private Fratricide

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Black boots echoed along fresh walls, as they descended into the depths of darkness. It was amongst many of the expansions which had been undertaken of the Imperial Palace upon Alvaria, the commonalities which they had of course, were that the foundations, that was to say the ceiling, had existed far longer than all which was present in the room. There was purpose to building giant spires that reached for the heavens, all the birds that flew and chittered could see within, of all the hollow foundations that maintained such wasteful pursuit. To build higher, and ever higher was a symbol, a symbol of prestige, a representation of power, vanity of vanities, that all was vanity.

He did not require such, for all that the Palace's spires had already risen upward, he had not ordered their expansion, not ordered any in addition. For all that others might have considered him amongst the most arrogant, as much as that label might have been accurate for the youngest of the Sith that had risen so highly so quickly, it was his way to have gazed down at the potential of the Palace's depths, to dig deep, and dig greedily.

Where the birds fluttered high gazing upon all down below, not even the worms would be able to see what it was that he had constructed below in the bowels of the earth.

For what purpose had it been that he constructed this tomb? Well, such was rather self-evident. He let out a shallow breath, as the spiral staircase found itself at its conclusion, the remains of the limp were enough indication that he should not be down here alone, alone in the darkness wherein it might take days for his staff to find where he was, for while they certainly knew of their Emperor's new fixation down here, for while this place used the Palace's foundations for ceiling, it remained as ever the newest expansion of what was despite appearances, a truly ancient construction.

He blinked away the darkness, red eyes glimmering in the darkness adjusting to the limited light, his fingers were gripped around rather familiar if oppositional artefacts, it was an irony he imagined that he would enjoy... if only...

...There had been enough close calls, yet, now all reports indicated that possibly...

Hope ever blossomed in his chest, as the sound of silence was broken by that of boots pressing ever onward, it had been something of a daily ritual coming down here, there was no purpose to it, he knew that much, yet, he came ever still. A balm on a guilty conscious? He could hardly tell. Red eyes drifted past the armour stand, familiar pieces of protection if tinged by ash and smoke yet still intact, blades ever familiar laying in an almost... serene position. The candles provided most of the light down here, he had lit one every day, another piece of irony that he hoped would be enjoyed.

He had not spoken false, Faldos remained ever still elusive, despite command of the Inquisition having reverted to him, the Inquisitors were proving difficult, something which he knew he would need to deal with quickly unless he wished to be blamed for another abortive attempt at rebellion, what those zealots had attempted... as foolhardy and as a failure as it had been... that faith had driven them to do so, even after witnessing so many strange, near suicidal expressions of faith, it still surprised him. Regardless, suffice it to say, Faldos was lost to him, while Formos... the less said of that the better.

He had not spoken false, a tomb he had constructed, a tomb as was deserved.

Malum left the flowers down on the table, those blackened and dead ones previously shaken off to the ground to be cleaned away, gazing upon the only other structure which gave off any amount of light, a muted blue cylinder. As he pressed his free hand upon the glass, looking into those depths for what he sought. Ashes burning hot in leathery pouch in hand.

"...Hello brother."

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Devoid of His armor and usual heavy robes, the ones He wore underneath still hid all but His face from view. They were blackened and scorched, largely melted into His wounds and thus far too difficult to remove before His internment in the tank had become a necessity. Wisps of small dark tendrils floated around in the bacta as they exuded from His body, mostly His back, idly reminiscent of the 'wings' that He had once sported. Albeit these ones were far less magnificent in comparison of course.

His youthful visage was largely unmarred by the flame that had scorched His body and clothing, the wounded lower jaw covered by the tank's breathing mask and therefore leaving Him seemingly unharmed at first glance. Of course no one unenlightened on such matters had seen Him in this state. Floating in the healing liquid, suspended by it just as He had suspended Himself in the air during the Kaggath yet lacking any of the splendor or presence that He had then.

His eyes, those deep golden pools of hatred, had been closed since then and His consciousness had similarly been closed off as well. The steady beat of His heart as well as the very subtle movement of His chest to indicate His breathing, all of which were displayed via data on the tank's console, were the only real signs that He had been salvaged and not simply strung up in the tank as some prize.

When the pouch of His ashes drew close however, His gloved fingers twitched.

His eyes slowly opened, their glow diminished enough that one could easily see the thin red ring surrounding His pupil amidst the burning gold of His eyes, as the temperature in the tomb noticeably dropped down a few degrees. The tendrils escaping His body like trails of smoke seemed to flicker and point towards the bag, as though longing to be whole once more even as their originator was just barely blinking back into consciousness.

His half-lidded gaze settled on Malum for a brief moment before His body was suddenly wracked by a cough, His floating form shaking slightly and His fingers flexing as He weakly reached up to press against the breath mask with a wince. The bacta had been helping His healing of course but the burns suffered to His internal organs were quite severe and even with His regeneration were proving tricky to fully restore. A fact that He was just now becoming aware of and one that seemed to cause a visceral annoyance given how His heartrate had accelerated and the candle's flame flickered a different color for a moment.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

His heart missed a beat, as the twitch, such a subtle, such a small, motion held the capability to bring him to a standstill. He had known, day after day, as the doctors spoke of the physically improving conditions that one day eventually, the fact he was alive would become far more real than theoretical, yet...

He released the breath that he had not even realised he had been holding, as by reflex, his hand extended ever further to cover more of the cold glass, it burned of the cool liquid behind the canvas, yet, it was impossible not to reach out. There was so much he had hidden from the rest of the Order, so much that he had hidden from himself, and now... as he had waited weeks, after weeks to go past, hoping day after day that something would finally change.

Now that the change had come, he desperately wished for anything else. Facing this, facing him, after all, which had happened? How could it be possible, that such a proposition brought more fear to his heart than when he stood against him as an avenging angel?

There had been less talking involved in that sandy arena, he supposed.

Though, the less he thought back to those memories the better.

Darth Strosi-, Ali, was in terrible shape, if not only for all the armour and apparel they had been unable to remove from him before they had performed the emergency surgeries, and placed him in the bacta tank, hoping that with the miracle healing substance, along with the prodigious ability of the Sangnir to regenerate...

...They were confident of it, yet, his wouds were grievous.

Wounds that Malum had willingly made, for reasons, he could still not provide an adequate excuse to explain all his actions since.

Red eyes gazed into yellow as they opened themselves back to the world... he was not sure what he thought he would see, he was not sure what he wanted to see, yet, it was enough to breathe easier still... there was no hatred in those eyes. Whether or not he realised who was standing opposite him, it was enough for his heart to beat ever faster, a possibility, a chance... maybe...

His gaze flicked to the candles as they turned a different shade for but a moment before it was gone, making him doubt if he had seen much at all.

"...Stop, the healing has not finished, if you try to leave, you will ruin in seconds what it took weeks to accomplish," Malum offered gently, putting off the conversation that they should have, with a conversation much easier to have. As his eyes turned towards the ashes in his hands, the object which... was confusing, he knew he did not have all of it, he knew exactly who held some of it, yet, beyond that... they were ashes of skin and body, they might hold power, but they were merely a facsimile of one who still lived and breathed... the fact they held power at all was bizarre, yet, as he witnessed Darth Stros- Ali react to it, he knew there was something to them.

"...Use your fingers, how much pain are you in?" The doctors were not here, it was his duty to do their job for now...

...And for all that he was justified in all he had done, it was his way to forgive his own guilt.

Darth Strosius
Mentioned: Lina Ovmar

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Bubbles escaped the sides of the breathing mask as His coughing fit slowed until eventually subsiding after a few moments, His glowing eyes flickering in intensity not unlike the candle that He had briefly influenced. Despite the rather groggy movements of His limbs and head His eyes were wide and attentive as they scanned the room beyond the tank's glass. It was an expression one might compare to that of a wild and injured beast, looking for an exit from its predicament. A fitting parallel.

Wherever He was didn't seem at all familiar to Him, the stonework that comprised just as foreign as everything else was from His encased view. Obviously He wasn't in the care of HIs cult, they would have thrown him into a modified Oubliette as He had so clearly instructed them to do in such instances of injury. That He was floating in Bacta and nothing else only cemented that fact, although that Malum was watching Him from outside the glass was the most obvious indication that He wasn't in any recognizable territory.

The words of the other Sith filtered through the thick glass in a slightly warbled manner but even injured His more sensitive hearing was able to discern it without issue. His golden gaze, still flickering in brightness like some malfunctioning lamp, idly ran up and down His own form as He examined Himself. He didn't at all like what He saw. What was most concerning however was when Malum bid Him to use His fingers, only those of His left hand responded. Indeed only His left arm had moved at all since His awakening.

His right arm, having been closer to where Malum's blade carved deep into His flesh during the final moments of the duel, was all but completely unresponsive aside from the very subtle flexing of His fingers on that hand. A sight that made Him grimace and let out a string of bubbles from the mask that were most assuredly some sort of curse word or two. At least He didn't feel any pain from it. The same could not be said for the rest of His body.

Each breath strained His lungs, or rather lung as the other didn't seem to do anything but wheeze, and almost summoned forth another coughing fit until He managed a slow but steady pace as He had done whilst unconscious. The wound itself ran deep just from a cursory glance and He knew based on how it felt that it went far deeper than it looked, with each bit of wounded flesh sporting a very uncomfortable burn in addition to the injury itself. Burns were especially difficult to heal even with His Sangnir regeneration overclocked as it was due to His self-experimentation, with the burned flesh needing to essentially be shed and a new layer grown beneath it to replace it.

Given that the vast majority of said burned flesh was organ tissue, the healing process was of course very very gradual. And it hurt like a queen.

Finally Darth Strosius set His gaze upon Malum once more and with a slightly garbled grunt raised up all five of the fingers on His left hand, clenching it slowly before spreading out all five again. He did pause however when the wisps of tendrils leaking from His body suddenly pressed against the glass, seemingly without His own input due to His surprised expression at the sight of them, aimed at the bag held in Malum's hand. They tracked it, dragging their pointed yet barely corporeal forms across the tank's glass as they tried in vain to reach for the bag.

Wide eyes more filled with confusion than the usual anger, at least at the moment, flickered between the tendrils and the man beyond the glass as He cautiously touched one of the tendrils with His hand. The dark muscle wrapped around His fingers and seemed to melt into His glove before their very eyes, only to reappear exuding from another part of His body a moment later and resuming its pressure against the glass. Much to the bewilderment of its wounded host.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Despite how much pain his brother was in, Malum could not help but offer a smile, it was a ghost of a smile, weak to boot, but after weeks of waiting, weeks of hoping, weeks of dreading, finally all was coming to fruition, all was working out, and just maybe, just maybe. He would be able to do what he wanted, beyond what he should, beyond what he was meant to. Still, progress as it was, prodigious progress for the Sangnir, that would be considered something beyond a miracle for man, there was still much to do.

Difficulty breathing, coughing and wheezing, wide and wild eyes, groggy and slow movements, loss of motor functions and grievous and utter burns, and that was only the visible symptoms. That Malum had gotten out of the battle with only a broken foot, along with the other superficial injuries had been a small miracle, yet, the old adage remained true he suppose, it was in the retreat that one caused the most casualties.

It was in defeat that Malum had done this to his brother.

To save him, Malum often repeated at night, turning over and over in the covers, too hot, too cold, too guilty, too shameful. He had become a master of lying, so masterful that lying to himself had become second nature, yet this... this... his conscious and unconscious thoughts despite all the distractions of prior weeks, all the joys that had been revealed to him, all the busyness that his new role contended for him, knew a truth that they would never let him go off.

He had killed his brother that day on Jutrand.

He had wanted to kill his brother on Jutrand that day.

He could hardly explain what had happened to change the outcome, but he knew what killing was, and he knew that Darth Strosius had been killed that day, witness to the entire Order as the Emperor had wished, yet, here he was, with difficulty in each breath, but breathing nonetheless, when Malum's desires had changed in the microsecond that his blade had crossed flesh.

Something had changed.

He had saved his brother that day on Jutrand.

He had wanted to save his brother on Jutrand that day.

The guilt was not wiped away, considering even now his mind, which was not even fully his anymore kept gazing back to Fiviune, he doubted it ever would be. Yet, there was little time for self-recriminations, when the one before him was already so recriminated. He gazed carefully, as the tendrils that had never quite disappeared from his app- brother, even after all that had occurred pressed against the glass, towards the pouch of ashes in his hands.

So even they felt it had power...

He pulled them away from the glass, placing them at a table nearby, as he pulled a chair from nearby and took his seat, he was in a bad state, yet, there was still ever much to do.

"...Ten... I'm surprised you are still conscious," Malum breathed, "Its good progress that you are awake at least, at least that is what the doctors and surgeons tell me," Though getting to the topic of the question was already proving to be difficult it seemed, "...Do you want to sleep? There is much to discuss, but we can give it a few more weeks yet." They could not, but there was no balm to it. Dar- Ali, in his present state, was useless, to Revna, to the Inquisition.

To him.

To himself.

"...What do you last remember?"

Darth Strosius
Mentioned: Revna Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

There was the subtlest narrowing of His eyes at Malum's remark, as though He were offended that the other Sith was surprised. While it was true that He hadn't quite suffered damage to this extent in His lifetime up to this point, He was no less more than capable of recovering. Eventually. Provided that He had ample time and the necessary...nutrients with which to restore Himself. A movement of His head signified a scoff at the mention of doctors and surgeons, already knowing that they were hardly qualified for the task of monitoring His health and recovery.

He highly doubted they had much if any experience with Sangnir, let alone one such as Himself. His own regenerative healing surpassed most of His kind even if they were familiar with them. A fact which now was becoming all the more apparent as He idly felt the uncomfortably familiar sensation of muscle tissue knitting itself back together near His shoulder. While far from pleasant it was very much a welcome sensation, especially when He could actually somewhat move His shoulder after a moment.

With His consciousness restored He could actively make use of His personal augmentations to speed His healing along, although even He could tell that it would still be quite the process before He was fully restored. His attention shot back to Malum when the mention of Him going back to sleep was made, the simmering golden glow of His eyes reigniting with a renewed light as He briefly fixed the other Sith with a proper glare. For a very brief moment it was almost possible to forget His current state with such an intense stare, one that called back to His arisen form during the duel.

Shaking His head 'no' would have been too exhausting at the moment but a glare would serve just fine as an answer, in His mind at least.

At the question of His last memory, the man blinked. For the first time since His unmasking one might add. His only operable hand, at the moment, raised and pointed an accusatory finger at Malum before slowly dragging back to gesture at where the wound was cleaved into His chest. 'Pain.' The tank shook slightly as His voice echoed in the room, reverberating in a strange ethereal choir almost. Not unlike back during the duel. Most notably however, the lack of bubbles escaping from around the mask signaled that He wasn't actually speaking. Not physically at least.

'Burning. Cutting. Carving. Pain. The scars of which pain me even now.' The tendrils escaping His form suddenly flared, growing slightly and seeming far more physical as He pressed His hand against the glass of the tank. 'You killed me. I felt it. My body, empty. My...myself free. Detached, floating. Alone.' A shiver ran up His form at the memory, wincing slightly at how His body protested the involuntary movement. 'Then a scream. Revna, my disciple. She was there. I felt my body...being recovered even as I was being severed from it. I pulled myself back. I clawed back in. Then nothing. Darkness.'

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

As ever seemed that his co-apprentice was filled with rancour and choler, though his expression of both was far more petulant than what befitted a Sith Lord, or even befitted the man whom he had witnessed in that arena. However, that hardly could be helped, a broken jaw, floating in blue clear liquid, with most of a body burnt to a crisp. Few were intimidating as a living corpse, after the shock of the corpseness wore off.

Ali got close, he would admit.

Malum raised an eyebrow, at his reaction, "...Fair enough, admittedly they have already reached something of a dead end, Sangnir are not exactly common enough for there to be true experts of their physiology, have any advice when it comes to that matter?" It was the other key reason for him to awaken, already he could see the prodigious ability for the Sangnir to heal was working, such that was almost inert, and inactive when he was unconscious, mending skin as it mended wounds far deeper as well.

It was impossible to not smile, as the glare withered against his frame. It was all so... familiar in some sense. Already entering back into their habits, even as Malum knew fully well, that so much had occurred...

...Could it ever return to how it was?

Did he even want it too? As much as there was comfort in similarity, was it not those very same habits that had drawn the battlelines between them, and led them down this path? Change had to come.

But for all the revolution which he wished to bring about this change, what was to come between them, need not be. The smile faded from his lips, as the voice rang around the chamber, a voice unspoken, but a voice truly felt. An all too familiar voice, with all the familiarity that this conversation was driving into him. The guilt returned as struggling fingers, pointed to grievous injury, injury all so evident, yet, now accentuated ever further. Reminder, that he had not ever stopped reminding himself off.

He had done this to him.

A tremor ran down his spine as he spoke, sweat forming at his forehead and trailing his cheek, his teeth clenched, as his heart beat rapidly in his chest, "...So it was more than what I had done... you clawed yourself back as much as I pulled you..." Malum mused, even as the confirmation rankled him deeply, there was nothing more sinful than kinslaying, and though he might not have shared blood with the Sangnir...

...He had killed his brother.

He gazed away from the tank, as his lips went dry. What could he say?

In the end, there was only one topic which truly mattered, "She is more than a disciple..." He spoke with gritted teeth, rubies returning to gold, as a new frustration marked his brow, "...So when were you going to tell me that the Kainites had captured my cousin, brother?" There was no shame now, for one aspect of this that was his fault, he was entirely sure in his heart, was grasped on with full force.

Darth Strosius
Mentioned: Revna Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

For once Malum admitted that he actually needed His help, something that would have made Him smirk had He the ability to do so. Beneath the mask His jaw was very much still barely attached after coming into contact with whatever it was that was guarding Malum's throat. His gaze briefly trailed down to the neck of the other Sith at that thought. What if the bite had made contact? What if He had torn Malum's head from his body and drank His fill of his blood as a prize? Would He have won the aftermath? In such a state He doubted that He'd have been able to stand His ground against the powers that be. Those that watched Him fight. Those that watched Him die.

He blinked away such thoughts and refocused on Malum once more as the man shifted between smiling and fidgeting and shivering. What could he possibly be worried about? He was hardly in a threatening position as it stood now. A subtle crinkle appeared at the edges of His eyes as He briefly entertained the thought that the other Sith might have some sort of regret. Guilt even. How amusing a thought was, albeit one dismissed just as quickly as it had cropped up. Perhaps even in this state not even Malum could deny how strong He had become. How blessed He was.

'Clawed into a broken form. A body almost useless, had you been any slower in interring me as you have done.' Broken in more ways than one it seemed. His gaze idly drifted to the bag that had been set aside, the one that His...attachments seemed so intent on reaching for despite the glass between them. He could expand His senses to brush against it without too much exertion but what He felt offered only questions rather than answers. It felt like Him. And a small, almost imperceptible, part of His mind seemed to stir as He brushed against the bag's contents with His will. It stirred as though it were the one being petted and prodded.

That was new.

That was disturbing.

That was fascinating.

His investigation was rather rudely interrupted however as Malum spoke again, this time impassioned rather than dejected as before. Glowing orbs swung back to meet a similarly colored stare, one that made Him furrow His brows slightly, as he spat out what almost sounded like offense. Like an accusation. The gall. 'To what end?' Surprisingly frustration was not met by fury, but rather by simple resentment. 'So that you could waylay my plans with prattle and discussion? So that you could attempt to reason with Kainites?'

His floating form shifted slightly as He adjusted His positioning, doing His best to set His shoulders 'straight' no matter how much the simple movement made Him wince. 'Or will you lie and say that you would have taken action? That you would have stood aside or even joined me instead of opposing me?' Finally that oh so familiar glare returned. 'You cared not when Taeli Raaf stood against me, when my hand was forced to retaliate. You declared me your foe then and there even as I offered her a simple choice. Nor did you stray from your path when she took Formos from me. When she made my people homeless. Again. Just as her ilk did with their inaction and selfishness in the waning days of the Sith Empire.'

The tank shook slightly with each syllable as the reports on the terminal monitoring it blared out warnings of intense stress. 'You didn't even oppose Ophidia until your hand was forced. And I was supposed to expect you to side with me against Carnifex?' A series of bubbles escaped the mask in what was assuredly a very pained sneer on His part. 'Your bravest moment was against me, not with me. You levied all that you had to defeat me. And in the end, you still couldn't finish the job.' The display on the terminal cracked as the tank's shaking subsided with a deep breath from Him. His tone returning to a more even one as He looked down upon Malum. 'It would have changed nothing. Just as you knowing it now changes nothing. She's still with them. Still in harm's way. Because you refused to listen to me.'

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Already they were to return to their old dynamics, no, Malum refused, not again, the very same ways which had brought them to this point of near mutual annihilation. Golden eyes drifted to his neck, no doubt, considering the very moment that his defeat had almost brought them to that stage, though... he was Sangnir, perhaps piercing his veins, perhaps drinking his fill of Marr blood would have provided him exactly what he needed to... ironically grasp victory out from the jaws of defeat.

His gaze shifted away to the ashes, the Force flickering about them, echoing the movements of his tendrils within the tank. It was only more evidence that there was something bizarre about them, a power which... hardly made sense. Yet, there were few things which strictly existed within sanity when it came to the Force.

Especially in the deepest darkest depths of the Darkside.

"You would be one to complain of being alive," Malum narrowed his eyes, as he crossed his arms, there was one positive in all this, Ali was one to make it difficult to be guilty about killing him, golden orbs swung back to meet rubies, Malum readying himself, as his boots gripped onto the ground for what already was promising to be a difficult conversation.

He allowed him to speak, keeping himself composed, levelling his breath, as the air grew a ravenous thickness, emotions swayed and swilled as the environment around them veritably popped and crackled in the presence of two Sith Lords restraining themselves despite at least some want to finish off exactly what had been begun that day on Jutrand.

Maybe exactly what had begun that day on Fiviune.

"To what end?!" His voice broke against the glass, even if Ali had ceased its movements, it was too easy for it to begin again, as the various tables and other furniture around them shifted inches, their instruments clattering on the ground, as the voice echoed around the closed chamber, "Are you still so arrogant to sit in a tank, a broken and ruined fool, who could not even defeat me, and think somehow, magically, you were to defeat those stronger than me?" He hissed out a breath, as human as it was serpentine, as one of his eyes grew as golden as the man in the tank.

"Yet, even then, they went too far this time," His feet stomped, as they took him against the glass, gold and red shining in a crazed anger, "It was only sense that stopped me from taking the Mors Vistra and Tsis'Kaar and launching it at Kaine and his Malsheem, sense, and the realisation that you would not be there at my side. Because you were such a fool as to put yourself as the target of all the Sith in the Order!" The air whipped against the glass, threatening to break it and leak the fluid, as his breath heaved as much as his heartbeat.

"I would have stood with you against all of them, should they have come for you, but no, it was YOU, who antagonised by Darth Arcanix sought not only feud with her, but the Kainites too, it was YOU, who told me nought of your plans, who expected me to be forced onto your side once again, but this time..." His voice cracked, yet still, as he palmed the glass, attempting to restrain himself, to restrain himself because now, no one else would, "...This time we would have lost you bloody, idiot, because this time it was not you tricking our Mistress into a war with the rest of the Order, this was you declaring war against the rest of the Order, with NO CHANCE OF WINNING!" The crack ran down the very centre of the glass, his fist breaking through the first layer of defence, as the bacta began to seep through, as the tank began the necessary actions to begin to repair itself.

As the gold in Malum's gaze faded away, and he took a step back.

"...Darth Arcanix might have antagonised you, might have taken Formos from you and made your people homeless, but you loaded the gun with all your senseless stupidity, your actions," His breath levelled, as he blinked the moisture out of his eyes, as he felt the need to claw at his throat, the itch growing harder, and harder to ignore, "Poor Alisteri, the last Sith, the victim of the Sith, the victim of the galaxy, who has so suffered at the hands of others, that he believes himself deserving of victory, when he has done nothing to be worthy of it," His heart beat lowered, as he gazed onto gloved hands, below it, the burns which he had wrought, "You could not even defeat me, and you think you can defeat an empire," Malum scoffed, as he gazed back at the fixing tank, "I could not finish the job? Heh, you think it some accomplishment that you clawed yourself back to life, but you forget, it is by my will that you live, I brought you here, made them all think I burned your body to ashes, but you think it is some power you hold that made me unable to finish you off?" Both eyes went golden, as a fire born of utter and total rage, only held back by the very organs in which they were reflected lapped up against the tank, as he bore the full weight of emotion against the Sangnir that attempted to raise himself above, just as he had done in the arena.

Artificial heights, true falls.

"Do not test me brother, lest you forget, I won the Kaggath, despite all your best efforts, despite you believing I am not true Sith, no matter what powers you found yourself, no matter how strong you believed you were, you were defeated by me."

There was a silence in the air after that, a silence broken only by the steps taken back towards the glass, different to the others, measured, melodic, once again, standing against the tank, eyes so aflame, that they might have boiled the bacta, "It is my turn now, you tried, you failed, you will serve me, as is your place the defeated, we will together save Revna, as we should have so long ago," He reached for his side, a Shikkar, its black glass blade shimmering in the light of candles, as he drew it with barest wince across his palm, pressing the gash against the glass, as the deep burgundy liquid, pooled, and ran down the glass, ran down the crack leaking the bacta.

"And if you still believe yourself some superior, better heal up, because I am more than willing to prove my superiority once again."

Darth Strosius
Mentioned: Revna Taeli Raaf Darth Carnifex

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

'You mistake my perceived 'arrogance' for self assurance.' A reply lacking any real fire in it, for even He knew now that His power was far more lacking than He had thought. He hadn't even intended to display His 'ascended form' during the fight with Malum at all, instead hoping to reserve it as a surprise for afterwards. For when He leveled His blades against the likes of Empyrean. And yet even a limited ascension, one fueled solely by His people in the audience and not by His entire cult as He had planned, it was still too much.

Despite all of His enhancements and improvements, all of the long nights and weeks of experimentation in order to raise the ceiling of His strength, it still wasn't enough. His body wasn't capable of handling the amount of power needed to finish the job. Had He been any stronger, any more able to contain the power granted to Him, then this discussion wouldn't be happening at all. But He hadn't. A lesson learned the hard way given His current state of injury, but one that would indeed be learned from nonetheless.

He had half a mind to meet each and every accusation with one of His own, to meet fury with fury as Malum's words and emotions lashed against Him. Yet He said nothing further to interrupt. Whether out of simple curtesy or genuine curiosity at what could possibly be leveled at Him, He wasnt entirely sure Himself. Any other time He'd be more than happy to shout down the Heir of Marr in return. While He made no rebuttals yet He did nevertheless have some silent reactions to Malum's harsh words.

Perhaps all that time beneath a mask had ruined any sort of poker face that He once had, for now despite the breath mask obscuring His injured jaw from view He was still very expressive. Glares, squints, twitches and furrows of His brows, even the subtle pulling of his cheeks in what must have been grimaces or the baring of His fangs beneath His mask. Clearly He wasn't too fond of Malum's analysis of His actions, His good hand curling and uncurling into a fist over and over again as He idly imaged how quickly He could snap the other Sith's neck with both the Force and His remaining motor functions.

Not quick enough to be worth attempting He decided. Not in His current state anyway.

His burning stare remained on Malum save for a single glance at the newly made crack in the glass that had just started to leak slightly. It seemed both of them were considering whether or not to shatter it fully, given the way that each had tensed and glared at one another. Malum to prove a point and Himself to launch a shard of glass right through the noble's body. As tempting as it was He still chose to bear with the onslaught of pitiful sentiments thrown His way, choosing to take them on the chin as it were.

A scoff, albeit one racked by a small cough afterwards, verbally escaped Him as Malum pressed his bleeding palm against the crack in the tank. The blood seeping from the wound was such a stark contrast to the blue of the bacta that one could easily track it as it seeped in through the tank's pierced glass exterior. 'Allow me to set you straight on one particular facet Malum, so that I may allow you to delude yourself with the rest.' He reached up with His good hand to unhook the breathing mask.

As it fell from His face His lower jaw almost went with it, unhinged and all but unattached save for tendons and muscles that could be seen knitting back together before Malum's very eyes. There was little Humanity to be found in His appearance at the moment, every tooth a fang or canine that seemed far more at home in the mouth of some apex predator than it did on Him. A tongue colored deep red and featuring a slightly pointed tip moved to the crack to lap up the blood seeping in to the tank. One swipe and the bacta was tainted by red no more, all of it being dragged back into the broken maw of Darth Strosius as He reached up and snapped His jaw back into place with a disturbingly loud crack.

"I serve the Force itself. And no one else."

With a snarl present on His restored face He donned the breathing mask once more and took a few moments to steady His breathing even as He 'spoke' up again. 'You taste as stale as you look, inbred. Now in all of your 'wisdom' do please tell me how you intend on freeing our dearest Revna from captivity.' He gestured to His broken body once more, His words dripping with disdain and sarcasm despite being unspoken. 'Because from what I can see your greatest ally has been dealt a grievous wound by your own hand, and I have no doubt that my followers have resisted your calls for obedience. So pray tell, what do you have in mind?'

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"And what instead is this perceived arrogance, this self-assurance?" Malum countered with narrowed eyes, keeping his face composed even as his hand was on fire, bleeding its noble blood into the bacta tank, all the while the liquid dripped out, a wound stinging in the pain most necessary, as it began to pull itself together through the power of the miracle blue ichor.

Ali wore his heart on his sleeve, which only became more evident as his words went on, only more evident as he lost his mask revealing his face for all to see. That in this instance the world consisted of only Malum, was a detail that mattered little. Perhaps it was that earnestness, that... honesty in some sense, which had drawn so many towards him. It had been to some degree which made their relationship work... had made their relationship work.

Despite the frustration, despite the headaches, despite the annoyance and anger, there was a simplicity there. A simplicity akin to a childlike black-and-white world order perhaps, but a simplicity which usually allowed Malum to know exactly what his brother's intentions were.

Maybe it was the loss of that, which had been the first nail in the coffin.

That so often those intentions went against Malum's desires the final one.

Still, there was part of him which could not help but stare at his brother's boyish face, it was hardly an unfamiliar face, even for those that had first become aware of it upon Jutrand, none of them knew he had seen it upon Fiviune, yet, in neither circumstance, did such... silent emotion pass through his features. Glares, squints, twitches, and furrows were only among a few of the expressions that quite literally washed over his face. For one who had spent most of their relationship gazing upon an ever-still mask...

...It was a true wonder of a thing.

Yet, perhaps the greater one, one that was enough to gain out of him a weary blink... Ali was not arguing against him. That might have been the true marvel of their age, despite their closeness, despite everything they had been through, that might have been the one constant of their relationship, even as Malum had been an apprentice and him the knight, even when they had both been knights, even when they had both ascended to lords.

For all which they saw the galaxy in the same way.

The arguments between them would be long, and bitter...

...Maybe it was a greater miracle that they had not drawn blades against each other sooner. Perhaps, that was the truth of their relationship instead, that despite their disagreements, their many disagreements, their debates, and arguments, either born out of necessity, either born out of shared affection, they had still remained together.

Until something fundamentally changed.

He blinked as the voice rang out across the air, realising that he had been so lost in his thoughts, lost in the fact that Ali was not countering him, that he had almost faded out of the room they were in towards a realm that was entirely within his own, yet, as quick as he was brought out from it, he was narrowing his eyes. The breathing mask unhooked, as it seemed if not in words, but in action, Ali would accept his challenge.

A maw that almost fell open, yet, revealing within its jaws the same bones which had sought to rip out his neck, to deny him victory in the moment of the Sangnir's defeat. It was enough for the smallest bead of sweat to trail his forehead, a reminder of all which could have gone wrong had it not been for his skill of arms, certainly... but too so many other unpredictable factors.

The blood was quick to fade from the bacta, as Malum withdrew his hand, the cut quickly healing as in front of him, a jaw remoulded, bone, muscle, and skin reattaching itself, in the mighty show of what made the Sangnir so dangerous... though, Malum could think of greater reasons he supposed.

The eyes narrowed further as more words were spoken.

Enough.

"That you believe yourself so right when unable to counter all that I have said, is the only delusion here," Malum hissed out, spoken with a tone of voice that was beyond simply the waves of sound, but made a tremor along the bacta that could be truly felt, "You serve yourself while deluding yourself into believing it is the Force's will," The scoff echoed along the walls, the anger barely restrained as he gripped his fists tight and taut, that was perhaps the truest irony, that the one who hated the Force with such choler, found himself aligned one who loved the Force with such phlegm, "If the Force so loved you, if the Force so chose you, where was it upon the Malsheem," A memory launched itself from Malum's brow onto Ali's, a shared memory of their defeat, "Where was it upon Geonosis!" Another upon the sandy arena, when despite all his interference, Ali thought to take upon Kaine and Braxus, "And where was it on Jutrand!" The last, the final moments of their duel, his jaw shattered, as the blade cut through skin, flesh, and bone, alight, and leaving nought but ash.

"It is an excuse, a pathetic excuse to believe you are doing something far greater than when you are, when you to these giants we wish to overthrow," He approached the glass again, his breath lowering with every syllable, "When you have been nothing but an insect, always swatted away," He palmed the glass, the crack mended, yet its remains remained visible, "And when the mosquito draws insignificant amounts of blood, again and again, it is crushed."

His nostrils flared, if he was of draconic make no doubt flames would have spluttered forth, as he turned himself back towards the ashes resting upon the table, taking a seat as he palmed the remains of one very alive, tossing the pouch in the air, "Is that the extent of your insults, abomination? As for Revna..." He tossed the pouch up in the air, watching with keen eyes as his co-apprentice's tendrils could not help but continue to follow their ascent and descent, "...You are more arrogant than I imagined if you think yourself my greatest ally," He scoffed, even as his heart burned for two different figures, "You haven't been my ally since Fiviune, you saw one who held loyalty above all and exploited his loyalty to you, to betray another, and ever since you have attempted to do the same, again, and again... or perhaps your foolhardiness truly holds no plan or operation in that broken skull of yours," He raised an eyebrow at the rest of his comments, a weak chuckle escaping his lips, "Your Wonosa are proving themselves a nuisance, one of them attempted to assassinate the Governor of Echnos, last I heard," The very same one which tried to assassinate his...

No, it had not happened.

"Yet, they can only remain mosquitoes for so long, or they will be crushed underfoot, all the while your Inquisition..." That was a more difficult prospect, "Half kept to the Kaggath, while the other half either got themselves destroyed in ill-fated rebellions, or otherwise are held up in Faldos," There was purpose in telling him all this.

"Your survival was not based on need, it was based on want," He tilted his face, truly gazing upon his brother through the glass and blue, "I should have killed you, I was meant to have killed you, yet, I wanted to keep you alive, my only brother," He stood up from the seat, his knees feeling as if they had aged a hundred years, leaving the pouch behind as he limped to the tank, so close, yet so far, "I have been summoned to Jutrand by the Empress, there, I will secure Revna's release."

He offered a ghost of a smile, even that barest of expression did not reach his eyes, "You will no doubt disapprove... but, all that matters now, is her safety, that which I hope you above all else care for, I will use my connections, those bridges which I built as you tried or succeeded in destroying, yet... if I should fail."

He shrugged his shoulders, as one of his eyes grew golden, "Then, I have prepared my armies and fleets to take her back by force."

He brought his hand to the edge of the glass, open-palmed and welcoming, "So I ask again," Another memory flashed, of their first meeting all that time ago, "Join me, let us be like we should have been, all those years ago."

Darth Strosius
Mentioned: Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Revna Srina Talon

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

'Unable to counter and unwilling to aren't the same thing Malum, do not mistake my silence for agreement.' Malum's question drew another burning glare from Him as He finished fixing the breathing mask back onto His face, a task made considerably more complicated with only one hand. 'I understand it may be hard for you to grasp this concept from that ivory tower of yours, but love is not granted. It is earned. And through suffering I have indeed earned the love and attention of the Force. Whether you believe it or not matters little, but when you pray and beg for all to listen for forgiveness and mercy upon your deathbed as all do, then your lack of faith will be remembered.'

Of that He was certain. Of all the injustice present in the galaxy even He knew that eventually Karma came for them all, no matter how much work or time had to be put in to ensure it. Malum would pay for his insolence one day and He fully intended on seeing that moment come to fruition. 'Like it or not we are aligned in our interests, Heir of Marr. I certainly would rather not be considered aligned with the likes of you by any means, but here we are. And I am indeed your mightiest cohort as there simply are no others. None that work with you for any reason aside from shared blood at least.' At least Malum seemed content to finally toss aside any false pretenses that they had ever seen eye to eye.

'They are making moves far too bold for their capability.' The news of His follower's actions made Him wince. 'My plays and plans were all carefully plotted and calculated, these actions far more resemble a wounded animal striking out in defense of itself. Dangerous, but still wounded and trapped.' If they weren't careful then they could very well bring the attention of more than a few Sith Lords down upon them, and no amount of preparation could save them forever from such an onslaught. He needed to get back to His people at once and restore them to their purpose. To bring them to heel it seemed.

He tactfully chose to ignore how His tendrils drifted towards the pouch as it moved, finding them only slightly responsive to His internal commands to remain still as they drifted around. What bothersome appendages they were proving to be. He'd have to look into some methods of corralling or removing them entirely once He was back in His workshop.

He rolled His eyes as Malum assured Him that His survival was not born of desire but rather than necessity, waving off the heated remarks with disinterest. He paused however when the other Sith finally got to speaking of His plan to rescue Revna, His eye twitching with a barely contained fury at the mention of it. 'Are you serious?' He couldn't believe what He was being told. 'You're going to argue with that obstinate bore and her corpse husband for Revna's release? As if they care?! As if they'd ever side against the Kainate in anything!?' He let loose a growl that compared to His 'words' was far more physical and apparent even with the mask and the tank muffling it.

'You're even more of an idiot than I gave you credit for.' He couldn't believe that He actually lost to such a fool, shame appearing on His half-masked face even as He grew all the more frustrated with the Heir of Marr. 'You live in ignorance and play by rules that no one else adheres to, as you have always done. Too blinded and assured by your "noble" upbringing to ever look at the galaxy for what it is and see what must be done. You're not a diplomat without peer nor are you a warlord with a powerful and untenable position Malum, you're just a spoiled brat handed everything on a silver platter. Your power, your followers, your positions, all of them granted instead of earned.'

His hand flicked out with a deeply annoyed sigh, bubbles cascading around Him as a result. 'You waste time bargaining with those who have nothing to gain but your demise. You should strike out now while you know where one half of your enemies are, isolate the Kainites and rescue Revna before Empyrean has the chance to reinforce them. That is your only chance for success.' One that He knew Malum would never take, but one that He stressed to him anyway. For it was the best chance of getting His disciple out of harm's way as quickly as possible.

'I do not side with blueblooded fools Malum, I slay them.'

He pointed another finger at Malum even as He reached out with the Force, His senses brushing across the damaged terminal in search of a means of release. 'All that you have ever done is proven this. Never once have you even stopped to consider the thoughts or opinions of myself, never once have you ever given me any credence or semblance of loyalty even as I handed you half of what was rightfully all mine. Ophidia is not dead because of us, she is dead because of me. And had it not been for me where would you be? Another lackey whining at her feet for scraps. Another no-name Sith in the Assembly begging the Dark Council for concessions. You are nothing Malum. And I will not shackle the fate of my apprentice to your sinking ship.'

With a click the telltale hiss of draining liquid could be heard, the bacta slowly starting to recede from the tank as He rolled His good shoulder. 'Go and parley with the parasites all you like. But when you fail and when they cast you aside, do not expect any sort of mercy from me in kind when I tear apart the Malsheem and recover Revna from her captors. You had your chance to side with me so many times Malum, and I'm tired of offering it. If you will not listen to simple fact and reason for once in your miserable little life, then I have nothing to gain from your assistance.'

Darth Malum of House Marr