Diplomacy Heart of Darkness | BotM Capital Crowning of Exegol

[Darth Solipsis]

The rebuilding process after the pyrrhic victory over Csilla has been slow and grueling. The Head of the Snake has been severed and the Chiss Ascendancy shattered, it’s colonies open to plunder as the raider fleets pick apart the carrion fields.

After two decisive strikes at Felucia and Thule against the Sith Empire and Sith Eternal, the Brotherhood of the Maw began preparing for the push towards the Alliance’s bastion in the
Galactic Core. This conflict with the Sith had provided the Brotherhood with the means to make ready for their return to the greater galaxy with a renewed armada. Beneath the veneer of reconstruction a second sinister objective was achieved, the end of the Sith Civil War and victory for the New Sith Order thanks to the efforts of the Brotherhood and it’s allies within the Warlords of the Sith.

The Dark Voice has gathered the Heathen Priests, they consolidate power over the hidden world of Exegol. The Holy City of Gehinnom has been ordered to lift itself from orbit of Rhand and traverse the Red Honeycomb Zone in order to reach Exegol where it will be anchored over the dark planet in perpetual orbit. The balance of power has shifted, all eyes fall on the once hidden redoubt of the Sith. A new capital is born..

​

The Dark Worldcraft of Gehinnom has lifted from it’s seat over Rhand for a new home veiled behind the Red Honeycomb Zone. This dangerous blood net of space fauna and nebulous gas saturated with asteroids has claimed nearly all who have attempted to trespass upon the hidden world of Exegol. Only with a Sith Wayfinder can a safe route be projected, even then it is near folly. Great beasts lurk in the depths of Red Space with hidden dangers all around. The Dark Voice awaits the Children of the Hidden Maw on Exegol, secretly providing a means of navigating with a Wayfinder of his own to those who would steer the great Gehinnom.

Lead the charge into Red Space and protect the Holy City from doom! Explore the vast reaches of the honeycomb and discover the secrets of the past, but beware the Summa-Verminoth and it’s ravenous hunger!

​

The ancient Sith built vast shipyards deep beneath the surface, it was here that the first Sith Eternal restored and retrofitted the ancient automatons in order to construct their Final Order. The decisive Battle of Exegol was a resounding defeat and final blow to the budding Sith Empire in the making. While the Sith Citadel was damaged nearly beyond repair the shipyards were left abandoned in working order. With the reclaiming of Exegol, the Final Dawn begins drawing up plans to once again restore the shipyards to their former glory and use them to fuel the conquests of both the Brotherhood of the Maw across the galactic stage.

Discover the secrets of the ancient Sith Eternal and set up a claim upon the vast autonomous factories. Make the galaxy quell in fear once more…

The Sith Citadel was sundered in the final moments of the Battle of Exegol, it’s vast halls abandoned and the very Throne of the Sith itself decimated. Upon rediscovery and reclamation, Sith Cultists of the Final Dawn and vast groves of slaves from various worlds such as Lao-Mon, etc. have been put to work in secret. Through hard labor day and night, countless deaths, and vast quantities of stone unearthed for the reconstruction efforts, the Citadel was restored. The Throne of the Sith stands where the old once had, a seat of power for the Dark Lord of the Sith who reigns over the Brotherhood of the Maw as the Dark Voice, Prophet of the Dark Three and Master of Gehinnom.

The New Sith Order make their home within the vast halls of this bastion of power as cultists of the Final Dawn gather before the Dark Voice in ceremony. The Throne has been restored and the balance of power shifted in favor of the Dark Side. Join in the haunting chants of the Final Dawn, work alongside the secretive New Sith Order, or set aside your own goals and explore the new bastion of power for the Brotherhood.

 

[Derix Tirall]

R E B I R T H
HIGH REGENT OF THE FINAL DAWN
SITH THRONE ROOM | EXEGOL​

The Sith Civil War was finally coming to it's well deserved end. Nearly a decade of schism, war and terror had ended in a victory none of the original belligerents could have predicated. With the Sith Empire crippled beyond repair, the Sith Eternal in death throes, and the unprecedented subversion of the Warlords of the Sith to mere allies, the New Sith Order had been victorious.

The Great Error had been corrected.

The beginning of the end had begun for the galaxy- the rise of the Final Dawn. The thought brought a wicked smile to the High Regent's otherwise dead complexion. Icy blue eyes surveyed their surroundings. With Marlon Sularen overseeing the restoration of the vast automated shipyards buried beneath Exegol's surface, the honor of attending the ceremony of the Citadel fell to Final Dawn's Chief Administrator.

The foreboding experience he felt could not truly be described. Centuries of ruin had been repaired within days, the apex of the Supreme Ruler's power brought to it's former glory.

He folded his arms, white gloved hands folded over his chest, waiting silently for the beginning.

TAGS: Darth Solipsis | OPEN​

 

[Romund Sro]

It seems as though Romund’s mindful preparation has paid off somewhat. Although he wasn’t proud of it he feared the Warlords of the Sith was not sustainable. That’s why he never wanted to overcommit, and to shield himself from it if things turned sour. Romund wanted to create a robust and sovereign micronation of his own. The alliance he gave to the Warlords funded him with the resources to kickstart this goal of his. Making something unhindered by many common issues of modern geo, and solar politics.

Because of Romunds foresight he wanted something sturdy and mobile. A castle not tied down forever to the place it was built until it inevitably weathered down to the trials of time. That’s why he was adamant about gaining land rights to a mere tiny plantoid to hollow out and call come.

Now in the move in his mobile micronation Romund has been carefully trekking across the galaxy away from his home planet. Making his way to The Maw, a loose confederation of cultists and barbarians. Probably not his first choice, but with the destruction caused and by the Sith Civil War along with the ensuing massive power vacuum created by it Romund knew he needed to get out of dodge. Sure gaining power would be nice, but he was a huge gamble, one that if he lost would see him hung from the gallows. He was smart enough to know that a fairly unremarkable practitioner of The Dark Side, and that there’s always a bigger fish. Did this hasty escape make Romund a coward?… maybe.

Currently Romund has moved ahead of his asteroid base with his nondescript GX1 Shuttle with a small dispatch of his private clone army to the planet of Exegol. He’d wanted to make sure he could at least secure himself some kind of presence in a faction he figured would take him. After landing on the Sith world walked off the bordering ramp and to the fabled throne room. Romund didn’t really know much about this planet other than that some large battle took place sometime during the few hundred years he was frozen in carbonite.

Having his clones keep an eye on the ship Romund made his way through the haunting halls of the citadel. He was glad he arrived on time. Catching wind that there was some new Sith order in the works on the planet within the throne room. He didn’t wear his armor, and wanted to not be so “loud” with his attire he set for a more comfortable long coat that covered most of his body. His eyepatch covered his left eye, screwing with his depth perception some but well worth it.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

EXEGOL , UNKNOWN REGIONS
Within the Underground Shipyards...

Sularen's T-4b Imperial Shuttle jumped out Red Honeycomb Zone arriving at Exegol. The Ex-Lord Imperator had never been to the Famous Sith Stronghold but he knew enough about the planet especially about how it had been used by the Final Order to build but their colossal fleet , something the Final Dawn intended to emulate in preparation for their grand conquest of the Core Worlds.

With the Final Dawn's arrival on Exegol , Sularen had been tasked by High Regent Tirall in overseeing the restoration of the automated shipyards which Sularen intended to utilize for the development of the Final Order's next-generation of Star Destroyers such as the Epoch Engineering Corporation's Autarch-Class and SularenCo's Supremacy Type I. With the damage the Final Dawn Navy suffered during the Battle of Csilla and subsequent minor engagements , it was critical that the Final Dawn replenish it's Navy in order to carry out their plans.

Sularen's Imperial Shuttle landed outside the Sith Citadel at Exegol which the Brotherhood were currently in the process of restoring. Escorted by the Crimson Guard , the Exiled Lord-Imperator made his way towards the Shipyards proceeding to enter the Sith Citadel and head towards the Citadel's lower level where the automated Shipyards laid.

Already Epochan and SularenCo Engineers were in the process of restoring and upgrading the automated shipyards with the first batch of Star Destroyers already under construction. Everything was going according to plan and soon enough , the Final Dawn' Navy would be fully replenished and plans for the long-waited Conquest of the Core could be finalized once and for all.

Tag | Aldo Garrick
​

 

[Fjendar Alcademon]

Theme

"Darkness... All there is is Darkness... And fire; Burning from within..."

The thick armoured fingers tap against the iron throne. An unnerving echo usurps the chamber, as the tunic-clothed woman bows her sagged, dead-pale body before the darkened figure.
Behind her, the clacking of the hilt and sheathes against the thick armours of the warriors clad in power armour break the silence.

"The Sleeping King has spoken, great lord!" her voice is forced through her torn lungs, as her head tilts back, blowing away the black messed hair. Her lips tasting the deep scars leading all the way up to the emptied eyesockets. "The Stars shall run red... The Heart; Shall pump in black veins, while hordes of heathen shall shake this galaxy to the core. Let there be Chaos; in an embrace of Shadow, great lord! Let there be blood; Of creatures as ancient as the Mawler Fiend's fury!".

"Battle stations"

The Force bleeds; Shaken by the wicketness of the Red Space; Void Abominations roar, as the massive fleet enters, closing in as an endless swarm around the worldcraft of the Holy City.... But they were no ships of the Brotherhood... These were no servants of the Heathen Priests...

One after the other emerge from Hyperspace as if they are spearpoints, cutting through the Force herself. Swarms and swarms, in an endless tide of malice; Spiked hulls; Their armours tainted by the darkest mist; The hands of the Witch-captains dipped in blinding lightning, melting the torn consoles as the dark energy melts the cables and steers the corrupted warships to their will;

Chants are spoken, while the blood of sacrifices runs the decks of the long-cursed warships; A chorus of madness; A wave of defiance; A great call, to the War Gods of Athys;

They emerge in their hundreds... Massive Capital ships, breeding the dark aura generated by the dark temples onboard them, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of Destroyers, Cruisers and numberless swarms of fighters, casting a very shadow upon the unreal worldcraft they embrace in their steadily advancing formation... A living statement, of the Athysian war machine's divine judgement. Ahead of all, sailed her; The pride of the Alcademon; The spear of the League's fury and the flagship of the Raider Fleet of the Summoners; The Red Horse

An amalgam of spiked hulls, demon-infested durasteel and labyrinthic cannon barrels, casting sparks of lightning as they face the cold of space. The Hemstagon Raider Fleet was here; Numbering in their ships, as they sailed along the vanguard of the Alcademon armada. And yet still; The lords of Athys did not come here to witness; Nor did they stay to impress;

The Athysians were careless of the dealings of the Sith; Mere puppets, eitherway, in the plays of the Ancient Ones.

No... The Athysians had come here for a much greater prize; For only the corrupt perverse nature of the followers of the Dark Gods of Shadow could see purpose in the nightmarish void beasts lurking near the hidden world...

They were not there to kill them... Nor were they to protect the Worldcraft;

The Athysian League's armada was here, with their untold thousands of warriors dying their faces and screaming the war chants and summoning rituals, while the wicked pilots sprayed the hulls of their Hoplites with the blood spilling down the throats of the knelt slaves torn open by the black nails of the twisted witch, readying to tame these eon-old monstrosities; The Greatest of Glories, was here to be claimed....


Fjendar Alcademon stands up from the iron throne of the Red Horse. His posture reaching over 3 meters tall, with the thick armour covering the huge body of the alchemised giant; A proof, of the Shadow Creed's depth of arcane powers.....

"Signal all ships" his twisted, bestial voice sounds under the helmet's shadow, as his eyes blaze yellow in anticipation...


"The Gods are watching..."

Irratar Hemstagon narrows his eyes, staring out the dreadful space as he holds onto the spiked hilt of his saberstaff, supporting his body on it as his ring-weighted fingers tighten their grip.....

"And they demand proof of our power. They demand; A sacrifice"

Onboard the Kiss of Death, Caedis Umbrammor tightens his armoured palms into fists. His crimson armour hardly reflects the light onboard the bridge, while he starts pacing left and right in anxious steps, struggling to tame the tension that overflows throughout his body...

"Now is when; We deliver. For Athys; For Shadow; And for the Crimson Star"

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Sith Citadel Throne Room, Sith Citadel, Exegol

//Power//


​

“Simhasana Raj Ut Ta!” “SimHA-SANA RAJ UT TA!”

A voice boomed over the horizon, the stadium of chanters outspoken as it reached every ear within the halls of the Sith Citadel.

“The time has come!”

Two wretched hands rose to meet the sky with taloned fingers dangling forth as a great skyline opened before the masses. Heavy slabs of duracrete as old as time itself groaned forth as they spread in revelation of the skies above Exegol. The Dark Lord of the Sith and Voice of the Maw itself, dark prophet of the legion vast of cultists, marauders, and warlords, sat upon the Throne of the Sith in majesty. Opening himself up to the faithful zealots and Dark Side cultists that were seated all around him, his flock chanted out in revelry.

“Gehinnom approaches! We shall anchor her blasphemous heart over this sacred world! We shall ascend!”

“Wonoksh Qyâsik nun! Wonoksh Qyâsik nun!“

A broadcast across Brotherhood Space would audibly display, the static ridden transmission of the Dark Voice’s speech. No image no picture, in the background the Heathen Priests would audibly insert their sermons under his voice.

“The decadence of the Core will be laid bare, from this seat we shall let the galaxy burn. A new dawn arises. A Final Dawn!”

 

[Maestus]

Long had Maestus toiled with the others. Cleaning the debris that had been threatening to over take the Throne Room here on Exegol. At times, she would pause in her work, and study the Throne. She would be lying if she said she never imagined herself upon it. She was Sith, after all. Hungering for power was her birthright.

Now, however, was not the time. Her Master, Darth Solipsis was still far too dangerous for her to take on alone. She trusted no one, either. Not to assist in such a monumental task. As soon as the deed was done, she would expect a dagger in her own back. And she very much liked living.

She paused once more and gazed about. Not to be envious of who sat upon the Throne of the Sith. But to revel in the raw Dark Side of the Force that swirled and was gathered here. It pulsated from the rock. Whipped out from the ceiling and walls. Encircled you like a mothers arms. Except this was no mother. This was the dark, foreboding and corrupting power of the Dark Side.

The corruption was starting to take its toll on Maestus. The skin on her face was beginning to crack in small spots. She could tell in her hands, the ache from her bones being worn down. Brittle. Her mind, however, was sharper and stronger than ever. And the Force was powerful in her. It sustained her. Emboldened her. Gave her the sight she required to do what was necessary.

As Darth Solipsis began to speak, she gave him her full attention. This was a glorious moment. One she would commit to memory and learn well from.

 

[Kraujar Sars]

HRRRRRRRRRR

HRRRR

HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Kraujar Sars 's painful breathing pushes the rebreather attached on his face to its limts. Tension fountains through his body, as he is led to a dark ecstasy by the speech of the Dark Lord. His miscreated body exposed, with several red tattoos marked across his arms, while a large black mark of the Maw's emblem was covering the whole of his back. His long hilt of the saberstaff hanging from his belt, over the black pants. His palms tightened into fists.

“The decadence of the Core will be laid bare, from this seat we shall let the galaxy burn. A new dawn arises. A Final Dawn!”

After Darth Solipsis 's words, Kraujar, along with his Black Scar pirates, driven by the occasion and glory of the moment, they unleash themselves in wild warcries.

"TO THE CORE!!! LET THE GALAXY BURN!!!"

Kraujar's fists sparked in lightning, as his eyes turned yellow, fiery by the taint of the Dark Side. This was it. Never did he have the chance of knowing who he was before. Never did he care. For the path to freedom, in his eyes, never lied in reason. For he wasn't him anymore. He was reborn. After untold years in torment, he was now reborn a warrior of the Maw. An apostle of the coming Apocalypse. For in the Avatars, he had found the true path to freedom, from this long-vermined galaxy: Rage. The weapon that drove his blade from a mere marauder to the very warlord of the Black Scars. For there was only one path: The path of war. The path of carnage. In these moments of darkness, possessed by the tide of war, under the orchestra of cannonfire and screams of pain, he had found his freedom. The words coming like very prayer through his screams:

"LET THE GALAXY BURN!!"

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Get a new ride
Weapons: Sword | Axe
Tags: Darth Solipsis | Fjendar Alcademon​

Victory, however costly, was still victory. And Csilla proved to the wider galaxy that the Brotherhood was a threat, one to be taken seriously. That meant they would face better foes as well, and more worthy ones as well. Despite his desires to see the Force brought to ruin, and his new obligations to Ingrid, Zachariel yet remained in the Brotherhood for the bloodshed just as much as his objective. And what would help cause more bloodshed, than new toys to play with. What better way to garner the ear of the Voice, than a whole slew of new war breeds to unleash. The Red Honeycomb Zone offered all this and more to one such as Zachariel.

Monsters inhabited the Honeycomb Zone, meaning the Brotherhood had to be careful in their movements, lest they attract foes they couldn't deal with immediately. Those same monsters were also Zachariel's target, though the overall protection of Gehinnom was of course the priority, at least officially. Zachariel knew there were others more suited to defending the massive world ship. In fact, one of their fleets was even now blazing ahead of the rest, leading the careful charge towards Exegol. The ships they commanded were impressive and Zachariel made a note to see about acquiring some of them for himself. Such warped craft would certainly bring fear into the hearts of his foe, though the ship Zachariel was currently on did as well.

The Bloodsworn had a far smaller fleet on hand, as most of their ships were around Osseriton or off in the galaxy raiding. However, it would suffice for the needs of this movement, and it would prove once more their devotion to the creed and Zachariel. Not only that, but they would help secure any creatures captured. As for Zachariel himself, he stood on the prow of one of his ships. Some might consider it a flagship of sorts, in truth it was merely another ship part of his fleet that he had garnered for this use, one with more speed than most, but still just another ship. His true flagship was still being built, and was not yet ready for war. No, what mattered now was the monsters to come, the creatures they would tame.

Zachariel could already picture it now. The other ships in this fleet would either kill or dissuade any creatures in this Zone. Few, if any, could fathom the idea of capturing such beasts, much less taming them. Which is why those few who had were amongst the elite and the leadership. He himself had thought up the idea and spread it amongst the Bloodsworn, and now those ships that had followed him here knew their roles and the role of their Lord. Even now their ships advanced in lockstep with the rest of the fleet, eyes and sensors peeled for the slightest hint of anything. Zachariel himself stood at the prow, ready and waiting for his opportunity to strike. Their plan was so far removed from any others that it was insanity, and that is what the Bloodsworn thrived on, it's what Zachariel embodied.

After all, sanity is for the weak.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Gehinnom, Traversing Red Honeycomb Zone
Tags: Fjendar Alcademon | Zachariel Steelblood

In the cold depths at the edge of a forbidden system, Holy Gehinnom crossed the void.

It was good to be home, even if home itself was relocating. Tu'teggacha had spent weeks secluded in the dungeons of the worldcraft, personally overseeing the breaking of the captives he and his marauders had seized from the academy on Rentor. The brightest young recruits of the Chiss Expeditionary Defense Force had learned to bow before his lash, turning their tactical gifts to plotting the despoliation of their own people's worlds. Of course, that was only their temporary goal. Soon they would turn coreward, and these slave-soldiers would exercise their talents to shake the very foundations of the Galactic Alliance.

The Taskmaster had been reluctant to leave Rhand behind. He had appreciated the secretive, nihilistic sorcerers who inhabited the planet, learning much from their view of the universe. But it had always been an uneasy partnership. While both the Brotherhood and the Sorcerers believed that the galaxy would inevitably come to ruin, the teachings of the Maw held that death always gave way to rebirth; it was the hopeful part of their theology, the part that downtrodden cultists across the galaxy had latched onto. But the Way of the Dark held that entropy, the spiral down into universal heat death, was the ultimate power.

Their alliance would endure, but the Brotherhood needed a capital in line with its vision.

That was why Gehinnom was en route to Exegol, the lost and forbidden Sith throneworld. Far from the traditional holy worlds of the Stygian Caldera, it was the perfect place for the Brotherhood's new tradition to claim legitimacy by usurping history. It was also eminently defensible; reaching it was near-impossible, for the vast and dangerous Red Honeycomb Zone around it could only be navigated with the aid of a Sith Wayfinder. Exactly how the Dark Voice had acquired one, Tu'teggacha did not know... or care. He cared only that his beloved dungeons would soon be utterly out of the reach of the Brotherhood's foes.

Too many times had the Jedi profaned his halls with their rescue missions. Never again.

Of course, even with the Wayfinder to uncover the route, the Red Honeycomb Zone was full of peril. That was why a vast Athysian warfleet was leading the charge, plunging fearlessly into the twisting depths to test themselves against its monsters, while a Bloodsworn honor guard held position around Gehinnom. It was rumored that, beyond huge asteroids and unpredictable ion storms, the Zone held voidborne creatures of impossible size and ferocity. These were starship-eaters, the kind of beings that might do damage even to something as vast as the Holy City. Such blasphemy could not be permitted, especially by mere brutes.

Of course, the Taskmaster salivated at the very idea of capturing such huge creatures.

That was why Tu'teggacha stood at the central sensor nexus of the worldcraft, rather than in his dungeons. He was waiting with bated breath, scanning the void for life signs. If a great summa-verminoth appeared, challenging their passage, he had every intention of doing to it what he desired to do to all the Brotherhood's foes: force obedience. He had no idea what it would take to subdue such a strange and colossal creature, so he had requested that the Bloodsworn and Athysians prepare a wide variety of armaments, in case some (or most) of them proved ineffective against a titan of the deep void. It was highly likely.

"Transmitting anomaly locations," the Taskmaster said, sending sensor data to Zachariel Steelblood and Fjendar Alcademon . It was a jumbled mess of potential life forms and other anomalies, the best that the worldcraft's sensors could make out amid the strange interference of the Red Honeycomb Zone. "Proceed with caution. There is a strange twilight in this place, a fog that covers scans and visual senses alike. It is certain that the beasts of the Zone use this cover to hunt and ambush. Stay in contact, and do not stray too far from the worldcraft." After all, Gehinnom was no battle station. It needed protection.

Five sensor pings went out to the Bloodsworn and Athysians. Each could mean anything...

 

[Aldo Garrick]

R E B I R T H

Operation: FINAL DAWN
Tags: Marlon Sularen​

The Neo Imperial Sith cultist stood in awe at the grandeur of it all. Sparks danced between enormous columns and autonomous machine, workers scrambled as far as the eye could see along with the brilliant engineers overseeing them. The best and brightest minds of Epoch Engineering and SularenCo were brought here to this sacred place to perform the great work that would define their careers. The renovation and restoration of the ancient shipyards, retrofitting the ancient autonomous machinery with updated equipment in preparation for the construction of a new armada to challenge the great powers of the galaxy.

There was much work to do.

Admiral Garrick cupped his chin in observation from an elevated platform near the long stair downward, his eyes glanced over the finished areas where new Star Destroyers were already under construction. Other than the occasional sight of crimson armored troopers belonging to the Final Dawn, the vast majority of work was being performed by indentured workers belonging to the Final Dawn. Political dissidents, recently acquired slaves, spoils from the Stygian Caldera, and rebel O'Reenians unwilling to take a knee were all gathered here under the watchful eye of the fanatical Final Dawn. It was almost unfortunate that not a single one of the indentured workforce would leave the surface of this planet again..

A robed emissary, a cultist of the Final Dawn approached the admiral as his attention came to once more. A firm nod of acknowledgement followed the whispers from the veiled soothsayer as the individual slipped away as quickly as he had arrived in his presence. Straightening his posture, Aldo awaited the announced arrival of Marlon Sularen as the Crimson Guard secured the area in preparation of the Grand Overseer.

 

[Lord Letifer]

LETIFER | NEW SITH ORDER
Throne Room | Sith Citadel


​

The Sith assassin stood in reverence as the faithful chanted en masse. Sheep to follow the will of the New Sith Order, to serve the needs of the Final Dawn, to fuel the conquests of the Brotherhood of the Maw. It was all too easy, their moment was at hand and soon their rise would bring a great deluge that would spill over the rest of the galaxy.

A new age was upon us.

Letifer stood vigilant with crossed arms near the dreaded disciple of the Dark Lord himself, Maestus . She was the first among the New Sith Order, her power had grown immensely over the past several years with the Dark Side visibly beginning to take a toll. To underestimate her though would be an enemy's undoing, the Dark Side was both boon and curse to those who were blessed with it's dark embrace. To toil in magics unknown for so long was bound to wither away the weak shell their mighty spirits encased in.

"Milady."

The Sith bowed his head, denoting her rank as a Lord of the Sith and respecting her position as a Warlord within the Brotherhood of the Maw.

"Are you sure about Empress Teta?"

 

[The Messenger]

The Dark Worldcraft of Gehinnom sailed through the black sea of starlight and empty space. The cold vacuum was a lonely, maddening sight to behold for those who dwelled so long under the Holy City. The sight of Red Space was a blessing, a brief reprieve from the haunting emptiness that had always been their view up until taking their place over Rhand.

As the massive vessel steered into the red flora and nebulous gas, cheers and chants would echo throughout the vast halls and twisting corridors of the dark station. They neared Exegol, the promised land where they would establish a new dawn, a final dawn. From this planet steeped in the Dark Side would their reign wash over the galaxy like a plague. War was coming, death awaited on the horizon, and rebirth would save all who would embrace her generous gift.

The vanguard fleets soared ahead, scouting the way. All was quiet, all was empty. The powerful shield of Gehinnom swatted away minor debris and flora as it moved onward. Drifting in various areas where it could fit without suffering damage to it’s structural integrity. Darkshears flew by into the expanse covering each flank of the 80km craft. In it’s shadowed wake a long sliver from behind broke up a trail of gas in it’s wake, a tentacle that slithered off into the dense shroud.

A single marauder pilot looked at the trailed gas in horror.

“I think there is something in the nebula.”

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Tags: Darth Solipsis | Maestus | Lord Letifer | Kraujar Sars | Romund Sro | Derix Tirall​

---

Tegan orange eyes burned like endless fires as she looked at the throne the sith had built themselves here on Exegol. Long had it been since Tegan had last stepped foot on this cold dead world, long had been since she even thought of this place. Even in her last romp as a sith she spent more time on the sith worlds of Korriban and Ziost only the last one holding any Value to her as she once a long time ago had Allies their people, she actually respected funny part is it wasn’t even the sith that claimed the world at the time.


A smirk crossed her painted face hidden behind dark robes as she watched this sith order revel in their glory and new seat of power. How foolish they were she thought to herself briefly. Even thought the Sith empire and Sith eternal had crumbled in the grand scheme it meant little she had seen what now six or seven maybe more reinventions of the Sith in her many lifetimes. She had even allied herself with a few just to watch them shatter and scatter. The Sith were doomed to the fate of self-destruction though this New Order was the king of the mountain for the moment the day would come for their implosion.


It was the fact the sith always ended in ruin that was why Tegan the once Psycho Sith’ari Darth Sokar never saw fit to declare herself Dark Lord of such an order despite having had several opportunities. She knew it was inevitable to end in ruin. Tegan was always happy to be the one in the shadows pulling the strings on the puppets that led such things, that way when they turned to dust she could move onto the next cult or fade and no one would be the wiser. This is also why over her exceptionally long life only a few people truly knew who she was and of her exploits.


There she stood in her dark robes staring at this throne looking into the future while they all celebrated there moment on top. The good part of the sith and Maw HQ moving to Exegol it meant she could finally make her moves to have the Sorcerers of Rhand take back Rhand from the unworthy warlord the Maw had installed upon it. Then she could fulfill her commitments to the rest of the Rhandites on the Elder council. Yet today the traitor sith, Exiled witch, fallen of the Krath, Sorceress of Rhand would watch the pawns of this Order celebrate their victory. Tegan listened to Darth Solipsis words and after he made his proclamations from the crowd Tegan played her part.


“Galez jena'tes derrinos tave Zibetis.” (May Darkness Devour The Stars) The sith language rolled of her tongue fluently, as it was the tongue she had learned first and could be considered her native language. Despite the fact she was Dathomiri or half by blood it was not t he world she had first been born into. Though his speaking of the core had intrigued her and caused her to wonder what Dyans Keto once Empress of Empress Teta was up to as Tegan had invited her to these festivities.

 

[Fjendar Alcademon]

Participants: Avatar of Death Zachariel Steelblood

"We have a prey" Fjendar Alcademon says in loud, roaring voice. "Signal the Blood Spear. Draw them out!"
The Red Horse halts her engines. The vast fleet of the League now forming several layers of ships, lined up in blockade formations, as the colossal Worldcraft sails behind them. Defensive as they may be considered, this attitude was soon to change...

Onboard the Blood Spear, Irratar Hemstagon makes a clearly annoyed grimache, as his eyes follow the path of the tentacle.
"Send in the first two packs. If they can bite, bleed it" he says, as he points the upper region of cosmic fog the tentacle came from, in his mind shaping the eldritch creature that hid in the void's embrace. Calculating, he was drawing the physical shape and size of the beast, while the first six Hunter Dog destroyers quickly accelerated ahead of the blockading fleet, sailing in continuously increasing speed, while their trident-like forecastle guns charge with energy... They sail spread out, clearly aiming to locate the beast and, if possible, release a single barrage before withdrawing towards the fleet. Harrassing it, knowing they could hardly lay a wound on it, such tactic seemed a prey-and-ambush game of patience.... And so, Irratar played along...

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Gehinnom, Maintenance Tunnels
Tags: Open

In the lowest depths of the Holy City, beneath even the darkened, gore-splattered dungeons where so many had met horrific ends - or equally horrific new beginnings as servants of the Maw - lay the maintenance tunnels. The business of moving so vast a starship as a Worldcraft was no simple matter. The thrust required was immense, and so was the power. Down here, the rumble of titanic engines and the hum of massive reactors formed an endless and deafening cacophony. The deck plating shook, and the bulkheads buzzed with static, making hair stand on end and skin prickle with proximity.

Low-level radiation suffused the whole area, lending the hallways an eerie glow - and a stomach-churning sensation that only grew the longer one remained here. Maintenance slaves had to be rotated frequently, for they grew weak and sickly after just a few days in these toxic depths. Droids were the only permanent inhabitants, rusted old hulks that stomped or trundled through the darkness on preprogrammed paths like a hive of massive insects. In time even they wore out, and no one bothered to drag them away for months, or even years. Their worn-out, corroded skeletons littered the catwalks.

The Mongrel did not fear such a place, for he knew no fear while he served the Avatars, but it was not the kind of place he had any desire to venture. Maintenance work was for slaves and drones, a rank he had risen above through faith, valor, and strength of arms, and there was usually no other reason to enter the lowest levels. But today, with the Holy City on the move through a mysterious and forbidden region, a second reason had materialized. There was something down here, something that should not be, and it fell to The Mongrel and his warriors to correct that before it harmed Gehinnom.

It had first come to the overseers' attention as tales from the maintenance slaves, but these had been granted little credence. The slaves on these decks were often brain-sick and addled, inventing entire religions around the vast workings of the worldcraft. If they spoke of shadows that devoured and bright lights that ripped them apart, it usually meant broken catwalks and leaking conduits, simple technological accidents they had tried to give greater meaning. The subsequent reports by maintenance droids had also been easy to dismiss, given their aged and corroded sensor arrays.

But the scans and damage reports could not be denied.

That was why The Mongrel had been sent to uncover the truth of what lurked on the lowest decks. Whatever it was, it seemed to have emerged within the Holy City as a result of its passage through the nebula, and it was causing disruption among the power and engine systems... disruptions that, if not addressed, could prove hazardous to the entire operation of relocating the worldcraft. That could not be permitted to happen. And so, while the great Zachariel Steelblood led the Bloodsworn raiding fleet to hunt the beasts without, The Mongrel and his Scar Hounds hunted beasts within.

No one could say for certain what they were hunting. Perhaps some voidborne parasites, like a flock of mynocks or similar pests, had wormed their way into Gehinnom's lower systems. Perhaps it was one of the strange ghost-like life forms of deep space, a Starweird or similar haunt. But The Mongrel suspected it was something else entirely. It was said that the veil between the galaxy and the Netherworld was thin within the bounds of the Red Honeycomb Zone, and with all that was going on in the galaxy surrounding the return of the Droid God, it was even thinner than usual in such places.

The veteran marauder suspected a supernatural threat.

Time would tell whether he was correct, though he hoped not; he was ill-equipped to directly battle a creature of spirit. That was why he had brought a pair of dark-robed Heathen Priests along with him, to better detect and combat any such threats. But The Mongrel also hoped that other champions of the Maw would join in his search, investigating these haunted underlevels. So many of the Dark Voice's followers were already on Exegol, preparing that world to become the Brotherhood's new capital... but perhaps a few remained on Gehinnom, to oversee the city's safe passage and aid in protecting it.

The Mongrel was likely to need their magics soon.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Exegol:
Objective: The Throne
Nearby: Darth Solipsis Maestus Tegan Starfall Romund Sro


Exegol, a place that was steeped in darkness and mystery. It was yet another place on the path. Having finished the campaigns against the Sith on Thule and Felucia. The Sith had been crushed, with the shadow of the Maw rising to take they’re place in the galaxy. It had seemed like most of the obstacles along his path were gone. At least so he himself had once thought. Unfortunately the search for answers had seemed to answer differently. In the end it had brought him here. To what he could even argue was a place that he had long sought after.

Instead of the Night Vulture, Kyrel emerged through the depths of the red nebula in a craft he championed since his days in the First Order. The TIE Silencer roared with its twin ion engines, modified to travel easier through the harshness of the Unknown Regions. Within the glass of the cockpit the dark world that occasionally flashed with lightning came into view. In this world the whisper of the voices inside his head echoed the name of this world. For he had taken such things as a clue of sorts.

Thrusting the fighter’s engines as it made its way towards the surface. Nothing more than a desolate wasteland. Even some twisted metal and ruins of a battle so long ago, now fades away into memory itself. The voice all but silent as the First Imperial fighter, while old and obsolete led to a towering citadel. The citadel itself threw a foreboding sense of destiny, of a certain calling. Now with the fighter landing. It seemed what he felt was the only path to go was forward.

Emerging from the craft, his saber ignited in a cautious way. He walked in a stride towards the citadel, unknown that his steps echoed upon Master of Ren Kylo centuries ago. Now it had all seemed that the echoes of history would unknowingly surface this time to Kyrel and beyond.


His steps growing heavier, attempting to quicken his pace as the rumble of thunder, and flash of lightning came from above. The entrance coming into view. It wasn’t before long before Kyrel disappeared into the darkness. Unaware of what would come next, or where it would all lead.

 

[Romund Sro]

Tags: Kyrel Ren Tegan Starfall Maestus Darth Solipsis

​

Why was Romund really here? He wasn't really loyal to the Sith, never quite was. He only actually care about he last bits in the Sith code. All that passion nonsense wasn't really his style, and if it was he probably wouldn't even be here right now. He was a bit of an opportunist. Something passed down by his ancestors. The Sro's were opportunists and that's how they gained power. They saw recognized their gift in the Force and used that to their advantage and a very might makes right kind of manner. Yet there was very little passion in the history of his family. Perhaps the existential dread of witnessing your race and civilization slowly dying put a damper on things.

So Romund was hardly much of a Sith, having made his way into the throne room with many others he felt out of place. They seem to speak in an alien language to him, the Sith language. What Romund wanted out of being here was to make sure this "New Sith Order" wouldn't have it out for him. In these larger than life factions playing wargames across the galaxy Romund felt the need to maintain a rather neutral aura to himself and his work if he were to truly join this Brotherhood. He understood the dangers of playing such a game with these people. When you're neutral you have no enemies, or friends, so you're stuck with a lot of potential enemies that you should look out for.

From his limited understanding the lack of that sort of caution is what has gotten people like him killed. Studying the cases in which a practitioner of the dark side has worked with Sith only to be discarded as soon as their usefulness vanished. No, for Romund his current goal was to form some sort of mutual relationship with these New Sith. To be the kind of guy they didn't know they needed, and thus can't just dispose of willy-nilly once said relationship stops being purely advantageous for them. He just needed to find the right person to talk to here...

 

[Maestus]

​

She stood near the Throne of the Sith, but far enough away to be respectful. God forbid Darth Solipsis take offense to her too close presence. Maestus had no delusions that he would not hesitate to strike her down at the slightest hint of arrogance. Towards him, at least. Arrogance and confidence when dealing and plotting against the others was tolerated, expected even.

Unless it endangered the goals of the Maw or the NSO. Or, she thought briefly, her own goals and machinations. Of which she had many irons in the fire. She had set her sights on Ryloth. Deep in Confederacy space, but it was ripe for the picking. A little political manipulation and she would have the viceroy seat for herself. All under the guise of improving life conditions. Campaigning on her "home town girl done good" persona. She had to stifle a laugh at that thought. She highly doubted, the people of Ryloth would be too happy with her plans for increasing the chief export of Ryloth. Slaves.

THe thought of slavery swept over her. It was something she herself avoided. But not her parents. Not Via's parents. They had lived a life of servitude. Slavery all they knew. When Solipsis found them, they were too old and frail to make any credits off of in sale. Not to mention, they had died to Maestus years and years ago. When she destroyed them with lightning, it was a symbolic murder. The last vestige of Via had been slain. And only Maestus remained.

Lord Letifer and his words drew her from her thoughts. She gave the apprentice a cool, appraising gaze. She had heard little of this one. She knew virtually nothing about him. Yet here he stood, among the New Sith Order and the other Sith celebrating such a momentous occasion. That spoke in his favor. When he mentions Empress Teta, she frowned slightly.

It is going well. Our reach is exnteded now into the core worlds. Soon, no planet will be safe, and the galaxy shall be cleansed. With fire, preferably, but that's a personal preference. It would seem the cultists there are doing a fine job of destroying and sowing chaos and discord. There is apparently a Senator trying to rally the public into some sense of roder, according to my latest reports. But I suspect he will have little success.

She smirked darkly as she clasped her hands in front of her black robes, with the ever present red stitching. She turned her attention back to Darth Solipsis but continued speaking to Letifer.

You are unknown to me, apprentice. I have heard very little about you.

She turned sharply on the balls of her feet to face him. Eyes burning a deep black with red fiery outer edges.

Who are you?

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Get a new ride
Weapons: Sword | Axe
Tags: The Messenger | Fjendar Alcademon | Tu'teggacha​

Two separate parties confirmed similar readings, while Zachariel's own men confirmed it a third time. There were at least five creatures out in the void before them, perhaps even moving to surround them. Whatever they were, no doubt they were big and some threat. While somewhat concerning, it simply provided more variety and opportunity. It would also help with preventing infighting, as each group would want their own target at least, perhaps more.

Still, such warnings were taken and used to good use, and Tu'teggacha soon received a message of thanks and alertness from the crews of the Bloodsworn. No message was sent to Fjendar or his forces, as it was clear they had their own agenda here, one that would still aid the Brotherhood, but their own nonetheless. Not only that, but their quick and hasty forward movement would provide an excellent field to see the capabilities of the foe.

As such, of Zachariel's fleet, only his own ship advanced somewhat, and even then it remained in the invisible envelope of the fleet. His ship was positioned in such a manner to directly interact with two of the pings, the first being the one targeted by Fjendar's forces, the other yet to appear. All eyes were peeled, all sensors active, they searched as one for these massive beasts. Zachariel himself used his armor and natural eyes to search, even as his Force senses lightly probed outward searching. While loath to rely on the Force, he wasn't against using it either. And once he had a 'ping', he spoke to his command crew.

"Bring us to heading 150 and up half a click. We shall see this foe at eye level."

And then it became a waiting game, one of baited breath and readied weaponry. Whatever came for them would learn the folly of such actions, Zachariel would make sure of it.