Populate Midnight Mass | DE Populate of Vortex

[Kaleb Sunwalker]

Tags: Sinestra Brutalis Veli'ae Ashai Creuat Sahar Amena Kader Vorm Malva'ikh Dralidok Ibaris Varanin Aphon



Kaleb would sit on the stone floor along with the rest of the Dark Side Elite. Yet again he was once more at the lead of the green-skinned Mirialan with whom he regarded as the most experienced of the Inquisitors within the Dark Side Elite. Kaleb for now felt like the least of the pack, he wasn't regarded with many looks. The looks he did gain was that of mistrust, or if he could more precisely put it as being the runt of the pack. He had been indoctrinated, tortured, showed to embrace the dark side by betraying his order. Yet there were still doubts. His saber still reflected the emerald green of the Jedi. He still had some connection to his light abilities, though he can feel such a connection slowly start to fade with each night the Stygian Codex whispered to him within his own quarters.

He had been given few missions, with so far being regarded as the "least" of the Elite. The Emperor whispered to him, every night did he hear the words. "Adapt or Die." He would either commit to this new path, if he failed then he would be cast aside sooner or later. He was facing a device that had a similar aura to the Holocron. This time this strange dark artifact was telling Kaleb to run. It was stoking his most insecurities and he felt crippling self doubt about his place. His anger was slowly smoldering to life. He told himself that he was one of the Emperor's Dark Side Elite. Perhaps he would become Sith one day under such great knowledge. The doubts screamed that he still clung to the Jedi path. That he was nothing more than someone neither Jedi, nor Sith but an insane lunatic still clinging to what he viewed as good.

His eyes widened the more he stared into the device. It mocked him, compelled him to try and run. The temptation to scurry away was growing, but Kaleb simply forced himself to continue his stare towards the device. He was determined to master his own fear, not to let the darkness consume him, but he would control it. He would prove his worth in the Elite by mastering this strange Phobis device.

​

 

[Romi Jade]

OBJECTIVE 1: CONSECRATION
AKAR TSIS, TEMPLE OF THE SITH
After: Prophecy of the Four: The Singularity Novel

​

The air on Tython was heavy with the weight of history, a palpable tension that echoed through its ancient ruins. Once a bastion of Jedi wisdom, now desecrated by the looming presence of the New Sith Order. Darth Solipsis, the Sith'ari, was seated amidst the shadows of the temple's throne chamber, his dark cloak billowing ominously around him.

Romi Jade, bound and weakened, hovered helplessly in the air, held aloft by energy binders clamped around her wrists and ankles, chaining her to her tormentor's will. Her eyes, once bright with the light of the Force, now dulled by the agony of her captivity, bore witness to preparation of the profane ritual unfolding before her.

Members of the New Sith Order and cultists from the Church of the Dark Side gathered, their voices chanting in unison, an eerie chorus that reverberated through the temple's hallowed halls. The air crackled with dark energy as the Sith'ari guided the logistics of the ritual, channeling the power of the Dark Side to consecrate the temple grounds, marking Tython as a bastion of Sith dominion.

But she knew the history of this cycle...

Whether he could hear her or not:

"You think this temple will stand as a monument to your power, Solipsis?" she spat, her voice filled with a mixture of scorn and defiance. "You may desecrate this place, but you'll always be weak."

"I've failed at so many things in my life...but by far the greatest was allowing you to live; it was my arrogance that birthed all of this...I hate that Ryv 's life was cut short for this..."

For Romi, every moment was a torment, every whispered incantation a dagger to her soul. Bound by chains of shadow and despair, she watched in disgust and silent horror as the legacy of the Jedi Order was defiled...once more before her eyes, a testament to the relentless march of the Dark Side. And amidst the darkness, a flicker of hope remained—a distant echo of her call for aid, a plea for salvation that echoed through the Force, reaching out to those who would stand against the tide of darkness and defy the will of the Sith'ari.

"I-I won't fail again..."

---

Darth Solipsis

 

[Pietro Demici]

Pietro Demici: Cardinal of Ashla

Tags: Darth Solipsis , Darth Vinaze , Derix Tirall , Cornelius Nibocaj , Olorion Fossk , Onrai

Light of Ashla

The Cardinal sat silently in his cell, broken by sorrow and racked with utter grief. The Crusade he had so boldly tried to lead had imploded, fighting amongst itself over their differences. Those loyal to him had all been slain, put to death at the hands of Darth Apophion and his fellow followers of the Bogan. Even some of those Pietro had once called his closest friends had become enemies, his own comrade having plunged a blade into the Cardinal, intending to kill him. It would have been a better end, he would tell himself. But now, he could only imagine the hellish intent behind his capture.

The Cardinal felt completely lost, his mind broken due to the machinations of Maestus and Onrai , leaving him little more than a shell of the great man he once was. So now... here he would remain, awaiting whatever dark fate the Sith could conjure.

His hands were bound, his connection to the Light blocked by dark magics. No matter how hard the Cardinal prayed, the light of his goddess seemed unable to penetrate the darkness of this place. It felt as if his very tie to Ashla had been severed, leaving Pietro without even the smallest semblance of hope...

So there he would sit, in utter silence and utter despair, awaiting the end...

 

[Darth Machinus]

Aerarii Tithe

Business... such a complex thing. There were always those that stuck to the light, keeping their dealings above the table, upholding some intangible moral code in order to mask their desire for profit. But those that truly understood the finer points of profit understood that some things are better left in the shadows, away from the prying eyes of governing bodies. These were the individuals that truly grasped the depths of which the complex nature of commerce could reach, which in turn, brought them to new heights of wealth and power. Tithe was always a man who understood that, as much as Machinus himself did. So when he received the message from the man, Machinus knew there was opportunity to be had.

Under his usual pseudonym of Raj Darr-Ro, he had kept in contact with his connections to the Empire, taking care to cover his tracks every step of the way. There had been many secret dealings, mostly in the form of sending arms to the Imperials from the shadows. But to finally be able to speak with Tithe had potential, and "Raj" was never one to miss such an opportunity.

He entered the room, the cold air of indifference upon his face, his cybernetic eyes glowing with a bright, shimmering blue light.

"Tithe... this meeting has been long overdue."

 

[Darth Bellum]

BELLUM CONTRA OMNES
[ Theme ]

| Location | Akar Tsis, Temple​

| Purpose | Observe​

​

The shadows began to congregate once more, like unfortunate souls drawn into the inescapable pull of a black hole. Few things drew the Lord of War from his sleepless solitude in a realm far beyond the reaches of the Galaxy as it was known, and fewer that piqued anything beyond mere curiosity.​

​

In the shadows of the temple, darkness seemed to shift and morph, licking at the ground like flames in a circle before it rose two meters from the ground. The air seemed to warp and crack like glass in silence, revealing an abyss that began spidering outwards as the gaps in space started to widen. A foot emerged from the anomaly as a dark, hooded figure emerged, grasping a glowing artifact in hand that soon dimmed. The hand that held the artifact retreated into the folds of their robe before both hands clasped behind their back, Bellum tilting his head back slightly as his gaze fell upon the dark throne.​

​

Among those gathered were many faces he was familiar with across the years, having watched them grow from the shadows. He had watched with interest the fall and rise of the Sith since his resurrection all those cycles ago. Bellum had allowed himself to fade into the obscurity of history as he had been focusing his attention to his own personal goals and interests within Otherspace, confident that the wolves among those that tread the path of the Dark Side would accomplish his vision. And now he had returned - though not to kneel and obey, but to aid his vision of a Galaxy engulfed in shadows and flame; a Galaxy that would see the darkness as he had.​

​

The time was nigh, and darkness would consume all once again.​

​

Let the wolves rise, and their hunts be bountiful and bloody so that the galaxy would know true fear and despair once more.​

 

[Onrai]

Darth Solipsis Derix Tirall Olorion Fossk Darth Vinaze Detritus Ren Cornelius Nibocaj Romi Jade Pietro Demici Darth Bellum Jogon

So it was the ever-shifting shade of the creature, so supped and intermingled with the Anti-Force of that profane void she yet called home, could only enjoy the sense of the Force around her, passively imbibing in its energies. The benighted nature she now possessed was yet enough that she could offer something she had once done in an utter stupor, her own memories of the event sharded and fragmented, much as she herself had begun becoming from the numerous flows of information yet being imbibed at once.

"For those of you here and now, the masters of your domains, know that the one who the Immortal Gods of the Sith promised this world as his own would yet be pleased. The reach of the Left-handed God extends even beyond death, and so it is that circumstances have yet aligned to offer insight, the hidden gnosis momentarily unmasked in triumph. Thus, hear the words I speak and know them."

So it was she offered those sibyllous words, speaking as though she were yet one of the malevolent prophets of old through whom divine knowledge was filtered to the populi.

To Cornelius Nibocaj
You seek to understand the darkness.
To master even one of the great sins.
Seek the Girth of Gluttony, the belt of Voracitos.
Let its mysteries ascend you higher, Cardinal.
Much remains hidden and yet unbloated.

To Olorion Fossk
The young scion, ever eager, ever bold,
most desirous to yet rise above his rank.
Gorger calls, the most iniquitous blade,
yet filled with spirits vile and uncommanded.
The weapon waits for you - grasp and be free of doubts!

To Detritus Ren
I see the hatred in your heart, the zeal and fervor.
You are a demon in the body of a mere mortal.
Slaughter will fill rivers with blood and bile.
You will change worlds with the fleshy dams of the dead.
Yet keep your cunning, so blood does not consume you.

To Darth Vinaze
These are yet the words I spoke of to you one day,
the guidance of a world divine, filled with forbidden truth.
Your task will not be an easy one, oh skilled scryer,
but you have the touch of the old gods upon you.
The stone of Osun will be yours, and thus you will gaze.

To Derix Tirall
Devotion to the darkness above all is for you.
From within their tombs, the Old Ones yet praise you.
Instill the true faith within the hearts of the many,
and yet the lies of the Light will break beneath your feet.
You are blessed, dark minister - bask beneath the black.

To the Emperor, Darth Solipsis
You are here at the hands of that which you seek.
You once walked a path of lies, of sweet and supple words,
yet in time, you were weaned away from falsehood.
Truth was your bread and honesty your wine.
You ascended among those who have failed before you,
and thus you stood, Sith'ari unchallenged.

The true measure of a man is not at what he conquers,
but at what he can hold and wield ex perpetuis.
For all that was lost before, you have regained it.
For all that was destroyed, you have rebuilt it.
Now you stand once more upon Typhojem's world,
master of its lands and apex predator of its seas.

Cleave to truth as were it your mother.
Hold close to sincerity as if its bond was dearest.
For there are yet those here who yet lack honesty.
Some who will yet be subverted by pride or envy.
When they fall, let their blood sanctify your empire,
and the galaxy will bow before you, righteous one.

When her words were finished, Onrai turned, looking upon the form of Romi Jade yet bound, a mere observer who yet watched the profane ritual unfolding before her. Were she more like Mnggal-Mnggal the sense of despair that practically gushed from the heart of the Jedi would've pleased her beyond all compare. But for now, she could only look at the woman and speak. "Take heart, Romi. Your role in the galaxy is yet unended - though it may not be what you desire. Perhaps you will be turned. Or perhaps your spirit will yet live again in some new and other way. But this will not be the finale to your story."

That was to be reserved to one broken husk of an Ashlan.

 

[Khamul Kryze]

BLACK MASS

THE UNCHAINED

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

Tags: Darth Solipsis , Darth Vinaze , Onrai , Cornelius Nibocaj , Derix Tirall , Darth Bellum​

Church

Today would mark a new era, not just for the followers of Darth Solipsis, but for the galaxy as a whole. And as the pendulum swayed back into the arms of darkness, so to would Khamul bring his followers into greater glory. Though the Maw had seen its end, Death's Hand had never stopped their mission. Guided by the hand of Khamul's son Caesar Kryze , they patiently prepared for their Mand'alor's return. And return he did, his power heightened and his resolve doubled, ready to lead his people once again into glory.

He never cared for the New Sith Order, but he had remained in their ranks all the same. They had proven to be useful, and as long as that continued, Khamul would play their game. And in this moment, it meant partaking in whatever grim spectacle the Sith'ari had cooked up.

He had entered the room with his usual intimidating composure, but there was a different air about him. Time had taught him to reign in his rage, to let it simmer instead of explode. He was more calculating than before, and perhaps more dangerous than ever. As he walked through the crowd, he calmly wiped the blood from his vibroknife, the remnant of a foolish failure of a Mandalorian that took issue with the Unchained's absence. A mistake that would not be made by the now rotting corpse ever again.

He could feel the dark energy permeating the entire area, no doubt a biproduct of the NSO's growing foothold upon the planet. He would not say anything to those around, save for a simple nod of acknowledgement to his long-time associate Darth Vinaze . For now, however, he would leave the speaking to those that were guiding this meeting, and would relish in whatever violence Solipsis had planned.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

M I D N I G H T_M A S S
Objective 3 : Temple Investigation

TYTHON, DEEP CORE

As Grand Admiral Sularen, Captain Torson and their collective entourage of Red Right Hand Operatives explored the ancient ruins, they would soon come across the aftermath of the minor Jedi incursion that had occurred only days prior. The dismembered corpses of Imperial Stormtroopers slain at the hands of the Jedi could be found throughout the ruins with scorch marks littering the broken walls and floors of the ruins, a clear indication that there had been some sort of fight here. "From what we know, the Jedi used disguises to infiltrate the ruins and disrupt the Imperial operation here. An Officer and Stormtrooper to be precise." Torson began as they made their way through the ruins. "How did the on-site garrison find out they were Jedi?" Sularen pondered. "The officer in charge of the operation caught them with a few artifacts from the vault and we do believe that one of the Jedi, the one disguised as an officer attempted to use a Jedi mind trick against the commanding officer but failed." Torson answered.

After a short walk, the Grand Admiral and the other Imperials would soon arrive at a small chamber lined with broken rusted and aged shelves. The shelves themselves were all empty but Sularen guessed that the Jedi had managed to swipe most of the artifacts that might have been stored here during their little incursion. "This vault used to contain a few Jedi artifacts that were the main target of the Jedi incursion" Torson further explained. "Most of these artifacts were rendered useless due to their advanced stage of deterioration. Unfortunately a majority of the surviving artifacts were taken by the Jedi during their little incursion, leaving us with only a few artifacts."

It didn't surprise Sularen that the artifacts had been their main target. Tython was the supposed birth place of the Jedi and these ruins were most likely part of an old Jedi temple. Hundreds if not thousands of relics and artifacts had been left behind here to be seized by the Imperials and Sith that occupied the planet in the wake of the Dark Empire's conquest of Tython. However what was alarming was the fact that the Jedi were already making small incursions into the Imperial-occupied portions of the Deep Core so soon and the Grand Admiral knew what the ultimate culmination of these incursions would be and how it could affect the Empire's plans for the conquest of the Core Worlds in the long run.

"Do we know who exactly launched the incursion and what vehicles or starship they used as a means of entry and escape?" the Grand Admiral further inquired. "All we know is that one of them, the one disguised as the Imperial officer was wielding a yellow lightsaber, while the other one wielded a green lightsaber." Torson answered. "As for their means of transportation, the duo escaped on this black and red light freighter" the Captain said before taking out a holopuck which displayed a low-resolution image of a black and red light freighter, which the Grand Admiral immediately recognized as a Corellian made VCX-100 Light Freighter. "That seems like a VCX-100 Light Freighter. Corellian-made" Sularen pointed out. "Do you think this is the work of Corellian Jedi sir?" Torson asked, speaking of the Corellia-based Green Jedi Order. "Highly unlikely, the Green Jedi Order mainly operate within the Corellian Sector, this has to be the work of some regular member of the New Jedi Order"

After a few seconds of silence, the Grand Admiral proceeded to ask one final question. "Is there any more vital information that i should know about this incursion?" Sularen asked again. "No sir, this is all we know." Torson answered. The Grand Admiral then began stroking his beard with his cybernetic right hand as he began reflecting on today's findings. The best information they had were in regards to the lightsabers and the ship used by the Jedi intruders and nothing more. While it was some progress, it still wouldn't be enough to identify the culprits or even be able to predict and anticipate future incursions within the Imperial-occupied Deep Core. Plus even if the Grand Admiral managed to find and hunt down those responsible, there were probably more Jedi out there doing the same thing, launching incursions into the Deep Core to recover key assets or sabotage the Imperial occupation.

Regardless, it was still imperative that the Empire take every pre-caution necessary to secure it's holdings within the Deep Core, even if this meant going on wild goose chases pursuing the smallest of Jedi incursions and insurgent holdouts. At the very least today's findings gave Sularen some insight on how the Jedi operated and what to expect from future raids. In time the boldness of the Jedi would inevitable expose a flaw within their strategy, a flaw that could be exploited to the Empire's advantage. But until then, the Grand Admiral would wait and bide his time, gathering more information and data on the Jedi would overplay their hand and when they would do so, Sularen would show them the true definition of fuck around and find out, the imperial way.

Tags | OPEN​

 

[Darth Immortuos]

Tags: Olorion Fossk Derix Tirall Cornelius Nibocaj Onrai Jogon ​

In the dimly lit chamber, shrouded in shadows and permeated by the foul essence of the dark side, a procession of Sith Lords and acolytes parted like waves before the arrival of Darth Immortuos. His figure, cloaked in tattered robes that whispered strange utterings, seemed to glide rather than walk, defying gravity's grip as he floated toward the heart of power within the Sith assembly. The Sith'ari. The air grew heavy with the putrid stench emanating from Immortuos, a scent of decay and degradation that seemed to seep from the very fabric of his being. As if death itself trailed in his wake, a sickly reminder of mortality twisted into a mockery of life. As he moved through the throngs of dark disciples, his presence sent shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned Sith, an unsettling disturbance in the Force that whispered of unspeakable horrors and forbidden knowledge.

Despite his appearance as a walking corpse, there was a dreadful vitality to Darth Immortuos that defied logic and reason. His form, though withered and decayed, pulsed with an corrupting energy that spoke of ancient secrets and forgotten rituals of old. His sunken, decayed features bore the weight of countless centuries, yet his eyes blazed with an otherworldly fire, twin orbs of crimson that pierced the darkness with an intensity that rivaled flames in the dark of night. A skeletal countenance veiled in shadow. His maw, lined with razor-sharp incisors coated in a thick, black substance, parted in a silent hiss as he surveyed the gathering with a chilling indifference.

"I am ready to spill Jedi Blood in your name my Emperor."

This was one of many utterings that the Lord of Decay had heard and it stirred a sea of thoughts for his psyche. Blind loyalty. It was fitting that the new Sith'ari had managed to surround himself with such a flock as this. Dark Jedi, Sith, Cultists and other religious figures of the dark swamped the temple grounds in mass. Pawns and pieces for future use. In varying different ways Immortuos had respect for the deception of it all, but such feats he had seen many times before. One Sith, The Sith Empire, Warlords of the Sith, Sith Eternal and on and on the wheels of time turned. For he had witnessed, assisted and helped topple many Empires of the past and now another was rising from the ashes. The Dark Empire. It was a game for Darth Immortuos. One in which he enjoyed the competition and the additional players of said game. Apon getting closer and adjacent to the Dark Lord himself, Immortuos couldn't help but smirk outwardly at the pure zealous fervor that oozed out of Darth Vinaze 's word and deeds.

"My Sith'ari, the great challenger, one who returns for vengeance. It is ever the honor to be in your presence. Your victory here will live eternal in the impassioned hearts of the Sith and the horrified minds of the Jedi. My service is yours, utterly. How would you have me work towards our consecration of this great monument?"

And this came from the mouth of a powerful ally. A man that was recently, In Immortuos's perception, conversed with on Malachor V. What a grave yard it was during that per chance meeting. Crimson red eyes darted to the Dark Lord accusingly. " Darth Solipsis , Emperor and Dark Lord of the Sith. The Sith'ari." He hissed lightly. " I find it most impressive how you organize and arrange your hordes. There is no doubt in my mind that your power structure has faith. Indeed, I can see how they find solace in the same secret sith histories, books of lies and subversions. Oh how they surround themselves in it. belief.." He paused and tilted his head some before removing his hood and squinting at the Sith'ari. " What do you surround yourself in, My Lord?"

 

[Shannic Wulf]

CONSECRATION

Adherence. The act of supplication and willing surrender of free-will to a greater ideal or power. One of the greatest tenets of the Dark Side is to endure such a state of being, so that the spirit of a man can be compelled to combat it.

Shannic had lived in this state for most of her life, following the Church since her earliest days on Chandrilla. Her father had been a member of the administration in the earliest days of the New Imperial Order, paving her way to work in various ministries throughout her otherwise stable career. She had not known combat but she had sparred with the battle of the bureaucrats daily, fighting to have bills and codes passed through to ratification by various ruling bodies.

The manifestation of Solipsis had brought a renewed vigour to her faith, a belief that she was seeing a miraculous age, an era of unprecedented growth and purpose for the Imperial family of citizens.

She stood with other members of the Imperial cadre, aside from the Sith adherents. She had known no connection to the Force in her life, other than what was cultivated and encouraged by the priesthood. There was no room for other views, she had accepted long before, her loyalty now to Solipsis, and the form of Emperor that he presented to the galaxy.

She intoned gently, humming the various rituals and calls to prayer, daring not speak the words as so often was the case; she was not a Force user and thus forbidden to speak the utterances of such.

She watched, in awe, her faith made manifest in reality.

 

[Lord Letifer]

Objective One: Consecration
Spindle

​

In the depths of the newly erected sanctum, Lord Letifer, a relic from the Second Great Hyperspace War and a Lord of the Sith among the New Sith Order, arrived amidst the gathering of dark acolytes after his escape from GA cryogenic stasis. His presence was a palpable force, his visor emotionless, his cloak billowing around him as he strode through the obsidian halls of Akar Tsis, the new temple rising from the ashes of the old. To his flank he entered with his long time apprentice and savior from captivity, even if it was to her own benefit in the end.

He'd expect nothing else, from a Sith.

As Letifer's gaze swept over the assembled throng, his eyes narrowed behind the veiled visor of his mask. He had heard the whispers, the rumors of the Sith'ari's return, but to witness it firsthand sent a shiver of disbelief down his spine. The Dark Lord, seated upon his throne of shadow, exuded an aura of commanding presence that seemed to suffuse the very air with palpable tension. Letifer's mind raced with memories of the Battle of Tython, decades ago, when the sky itself had torn asunder and the New Sith Order had suffered its greatest defeat. The memory of that fateful day still haunted him, the echo of defeat reverberating through the annals of Sith history.

And yet, here they stood, gathered once more in the heart of the galaxy, ready to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. The sight of the Sith'ari, returned from the depths of oblivion, filled Letifer with a sense of trepidation, but also caution.

Turning to his apprentice, Spindle, Letifer's voice was a low rumble, barely audible above the thrum of dark energy that permeated the chamber. "An order renewed," he murmured, his words heavy with significance. "Be wary, my apprentice. Do not let your guard down, even here," Letifer said plainly, his fist clenching softly.

The sight of the captive Jedi Master, Romi Jade , puzzled him. A welcoming surprise to be sure, but nonetheless he pondered on why she was alive or here for that matter. Was she the sacrifice intended to christen this temple? Or was there more to the story. What did she know that kept her alive from Solipsis's wrath, what did she hold over him?

And how could he find out.. to use for his own ends?

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Location: Akar Tsis.

Tags: Darth Solipsis Darth Vinaze Onrai Cornelius Nibocaj Derix Tirall Darth Bellum Khamul Kryze Shannic Wulf Darth Immortuos Pietro Demici Romi Jade

Atmosphere

The water that flowed down the walls of Akar Tsis slipped quietly through its unseen fissures; in the great hall, as the Lords and acolytes, dark warriors and shadowy priests of the New Sith Order organized before the Sith'ari, the shadows grew thicker. After a time, whispers slipped through the yawn of the void, beyond recognition to one's ears at first – only those well-attuned to the Dark Side could sense the sinister disturbance bubbling up from beyond. It grew, until a barely palpable sense of unease crept over the scene. From silence and darkness, the Shadow Hand emerged.

Cloaked in worn, black rags, the Sith Lord seemed to have always been there among them, enigmatically observing those that came to portray their allegiance, hiding in plain sight – dressed in the very shadows they themselves cast upon the cold, hard floor. The Blasphemer, the right hand of Darth Solipsis leeched upon their collective hatred – lingering on the edge of their peripheries, listening for secrets, and feeding knowledge, whatever form it may take, to the unmaker of the Great Error.

From inside a nameless group of lesser acolytes wriggling under the heavy presence of Solipsis, the masked Ptolemis birthed himself, finally revealing his presence by pushing aside the pale faces of those around him. The snippets of light trickling through the corrupted waterfalls of Akar Tsis light the maroon mask of the Blasphemer as he stands by the Sith'ari's side; motionless, his gaze wanders across the crowd. Forever watching. Forever listening.
​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | GALACTIC EMPEROR
TEMPLE OF THE SITH - AKAR TSIS

​

As the throng of darksiders gathered before the throne, the Emperor raised a hand in silent command. His voice was deep, a soothing cadence that resonated through the chamber like a breeze, an audible velvet whisper. Emotionless. His movements deliberate and precise, every gesture laden with a subtle menace that was bound to send shivers down the spine of the feeble.

"We have an honored guest."

His eyes, twin pools of burning ember, met the gaze of Jedi Master Romi Jade , bound in a levitating form of stasis. His prisoner and means of unlocking the Prophecy of the Four to his own ends. The Dark Lord had her brought her here, to bade witness to what their 'victory' had achieved decades ago.

"Welcome."

The Jedi Master greeted him with open hostility and regret.

"You presume your actions would have had any consequence." he intoned, his voice carrying the full weight of the present. "In the end, you would only delay the inevitable."

His palm lifted from the armrest of his throne, his eyes following suit as his hand closed into a tight fist.

"Rebirth."

A single word, one so powerful it carried dual meaning, on one hand signifying his resurrection, on the other the resumption of his unholy goal - a great galactic rebirth - the GRAND PLAN of a reality molded by Sith design.

His eyes darted immediately away with the approach of another, the spectral Sith Lord once again given flesh. The scryer of the Sith'ari, the one who led the way - Darth Vinaze . As he bowed, Solipsis acknowledged him with a nod of his head, and a hand risen in gesture, betraying no hint of emotion. "Rise, my friend," He murmured, "You bow before no one."

His attention shifted to the spectral form of Onrai as they delved in prophetic dialogue with those gathered. The Emperor bade welcome to the dark spirit, motioning with gesture. "Inspirational words. But Fate has no meaning for those who truly break their chains. We are river breakers, the currents shifted by our will. What progress do you bring me?"

But as the cultists led by Minister Janus Vipsanius ushered in Pietro Demici , the Ashlan Jedi Master and Keeper of the Faith - bound and beaten, the Dark Lord's gaze hardened ever so slightly. "Ashlans," he observed, his voice tinged with a hint of disgust.

Turning his attention back to the gathered throng, the Sith'ari spoke but a few words, each one pregnant with meaning. His voice boomed, "The path to power is paved with sacrifice," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of inevitability. "But in the end, only the strongest will prevail."

Only the Strong. The unofficial motto of the New Sith Order in the aftermath of the Sith Schism. And so, as the cultists brought forth their captive, the Emperor remained seated upon his throne, his gaze fixed upon the distant horizon as Darth Immortuos approached.

Unfazed, his voice beckoned in response to the Sith Lord with one word - as his Shadow Hand Darth Ptolemis appeared from the depths to his throne's right hand.

"Victory."

​

 

[Darth Vinaze]

THE PROPHET

Darksiders: Darth Solipsis Derix Tirall | Jogon | Onrai | Detritus Ren | Darth Ptolemis | Darth Immortuos | Khamul Kryze | Olorion Fossk | Darth Bellum | Shannic Wulf
Honored Guests: Romi Jade Pietro Demici

​

Vinaze rose from his deference to proceed back into the crowd, the throngs of people swelling to include some of the biggest names in the New Sith Order, and many a face he was heartened to see. A Sith claiming friendship was nothing but a declaration of an exposed back to stab, but among the gathered were those whom Vinaze had worked along side for years, and their presence brought him back to a chief memory. Standing above a crowd not dissimilar, though much larger, on Exegol as he had crowned Solipsis as the Sith'ari, flanked by Khamul Kryze and Kyrel Ren . To see the Dark Mandalore once again, and to see Detritus Ren carrying the legacy of his father made Vinaze certain of the righteousness of the event. The Sith could never be held down. If only the ones who had slain the late Lord of Ren were bonded in chains before them, but alas the Sith vendetta against the Noble family was yet to be paid.

As the procession of supplicants placed themselves at the Sith'ari's feet, Vinaze took a place next to Darth Ptolemis and observed as the guests of honor were paraded. He could not scoff at the importance of who they had brought to consecrate the new temple. A legendary master Jedi, and the right hand of the Ashlan Crusade. This was as sweet a vengeance as one could ask. If only Cedric Grayson could have witnessed these deaths. Though the cardinal was locked away still, the firebrand Jade was already before them, and her quickness to challenge Solipsis was admirable, but futile, Vinaze knew. He wondered how she would die, what kind of death would be fitting for a Jedi of her standing, her influence? He could only wait and see...

 

[Spindle]

Objective One: Consecration
Lord Letifer​

The Nagai's presence was a pop of color among a sea of dark, as paradoxical as that sounded. Uncloaked and in robes of deep maroon the tall figure was a dutiful if not demented presence at her master's side. While her master remained shrouded in cloak and mask, Spindle's countenance wore expression like a glove. Beady eyes flickered with an eager fascination as they drifted from one Sith to another, meeting the gazes of lords with the same reverence (or lack thereof) as acolytes. Even the throne she looked to with unwavering curiosity, before eventually sliding to Letifer's back.

It'd be a delightful twist in the threads of her own story to plunge shears between his shoulders and offer up the Lord as a sacrifice in addition to whatever was already prepared. A part of her wished she'd used the journey to Akar Tsis to offer him tea - something herbal, to disguise a paralytic. That would've been a way to make a name for herself right then and there. But it was neither the time nor place. For the moment, Spindle remained a loyal agent.

It was Letifer's words that roused her from her vacant plans. The weight of the Force in the room wore heavy on her arms, muggy despite the everpresent winds of Vortex. Despite this, a dark brow rose in response to her master. Was he unsettled? Afraid, even? The possibility of such pulled a long thin-lipped smile to her pallor cheeks. A loose thread to pick at.

"But of course, Master," the words could've come from the world's winds themselves, dripping with malaligned compliance. "I must say, though, what a fascinating setup."

 

[Raz Azule]

---

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Objective III: The Hunt

Raz decided to forgo the party, despite his Mand’alor ( Khamul Kryze ) being there. He’d rather hunt the Flesh Raiders who still roamed the planet. Aboard The Hunter the cavalier got in one pf bubble guns and rained down great streams of continuous green on a herd of those horned warriors, the peridot energy tore through them and it was.. not satisfying. The Zealot exited the bubble by pulling the hatch, his blond bangs flowing in the wind as he in blood red armor prepared to leap into main deck of the gunship. His jetpack with pointed warhead gavs him burst fo counter the wind jet, and he wntered in. Going to a rack, he took a Besckad with crimson paracord wrapped around the handle and placed it in sheath that was fasten to his back. He then grabbed his helm and sealed it upon his head, the T shaped visor reflecting the world with its blue skies. He then leapt out of the ship, and as he descended into the woods he used his thrusters to jump from tree tops, till he saw some Horned Game not to far off, they were dragging a slab of stone towards circle of standing ones.

Raz decided to drop in and when he landed, he bent a knee as one of his gauntlet hands held by his heavy blaster pistol and his left hand reached for the beskcad. The Raiders let out a shriek, the beasties then charged with arms, he drew the Mando Ore and let it sing as he placed the edge across the breast, and then kicked the Raider aside and dug the tip into another in the lower abdomen, with a twist he spun the body around as a shield, and fired from his blaster, dropping three instantly. The rush of this close combat was like a drug. Raz relished meeting the next wave, his besckad wet with blood that sprayed as he carved the boar like beings who in their heavy forms moved as clumsy as fat Gammoreans.

The bodies began to drop aeoynd him as if pedals of roses, he stepped on one of their heads and dug the machete blade into its skull. The Horde was skinned, ready for a good smokin, and so pointing his wrist he let out a stream of flame to cool those pigs. Perhaps they would make a good feast for his hounds.

Once the bodies were toasted and the air filed with burnt flesh incense, he turned and saw a giant of a Raider with a cudgel. Ot snorting with golden ring in its nostrils. Raz reached for his blaster pistol, and as he drew it, the behemoth of a Boar charged, he got off three shots which did nothing to deter its advance as it collided with him and sent Raz airborne. Using his jetpack he suspended himself in thd air and said,

“Finally.. a challenge.”

Dropoing down, The Zealot took off his pack and laid it beside a trunk. He then removed his belt and holster. The Gigan Raider snorted as it brandished its cudgel. Removing his Mando helm, the Death Hand fixed his cyan eyes on the foe and took his beskcad and stepped forth. The Great Raider beat its chest with its free hand, and then ran sweeping its great cudgel which was more of a log. Raz met the Big Raidee, and felt that great wood fly over his blond locks, he thrusted his blade in several quick stabs at the underbelly, which barely punctured holes large enough to be considered anything other than paper cuts. The Mando moved around the sweeps of the log, and a occasional fist, the Behemoth Raider was tough but sluggish, but if the blows made purchase he knew consciousness would be lost. With each parry he left another tiny cut, adding them as if marks on a fleshen leaf. The effect was that the Massive Creature became agitated, like being stung by a insect over and over. This was Raz’s plan, to stroke it’s ire which led to it thrashing the cudgel at him and using his flamethrower he lit the trunk ablaze. Stepping away he gestured with a free hand as The Beast looked at its great torch.

“Use it you ugly pig face! Turn it into my pyre!”

Raz was mad, he wanted to instigate, to make any challenge harder, to test his worth as a Mandalorian. He did not enjoy easy victories, they had to cost something. Like the scar on his face from a Jetiise, a noble Sorceror who with kyber fueled blade that matched his eyes had nearly killed him. He had enjoyed that duel, the closeness to death gave him a euphoric feeling. This was not bad, if the Gigan Raider would get on with it…

 

[Sinestra]

MASTER OF DREAD
Open to the Dark Side Elite
Creuat Veli'ae Ashai Brutalis Kaleb Sunwalker​

The oppressive aura of fear coiled around Sinestra like a constrictor, squeezing her lungs with its icy grip. The Phobis device lay at the center of the room, its triangular edges seemingly cutting into the fabric of reality, casting eerie shadows on the cobblestone walls. Each breath the seer took felt like inhaling shards of glass, the cold creeping into her bones, turning her muscles rigid. Her heart raced, hammering against her chest as if it could burst through her ribcage at any moment. Sweat poured down her temples, slicking her hair damp, as her body instinctively recoiled from the source of her terror.

It was like standing at the edge of a bottomless chasm, the pull of the void dragging her in. Her legs trembled, her hands clenched, and her stomach churned with nauseating unease. The whispers of countless fears echoed in her mind, each one magnifying the others, a cacophony of dread threatening to drown her consciousness. The Dark Jedi gritted her teeth, pushing back against the encroaching darkness, primal anger rising to meet the challenge. The visions swirled and morphed—memories, phantoms, and nightmares—but the seer refused to yield.

Sinestra called upon the Dark Side, letting its unnatural power flow through her, a counterforce to the overwhelming dread. Lips curled into a snarl as she gathered her strength, preparing for the next surge of fear. The Elite knew that if she faltered, if she let her guard down for even an instant, it would consume her.

But she was an Emperor's Chosen and she would not be broken.

Not by this.

Not by anything.

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OOC// rules:

• 5 rounds of posts rolling a d20
• whoever's tally is closest to 100 by the end, masters and receives the Phobis device.
• if you're just joining in, feel free to catch up with dice rolls

dice tally:
round 1: 7
round 2: 11

 

[Nute Griimda]

​

Meii-Nu took a momentary glance at the holographic projections of Imperial Project K1-2284, realizing that a thorough discussion with the Grand Admiral and the Imperial Ruling Council would be more appropriate for its approval, rather than attempting to hastily approve it on her own without the guidance of military-minded individuals within the Dark Empire's ranks who would point out the flaws in the design much better than she ever could.

Departing from the sophisticated Imperial Research Facility, she made her way towards her Sheathipede Class Transport Shuttle that was parked nearby. Without delay, she activated a button on the control panel, causing a holo-transmission to appear on the expansive display screen. Curious about the urgency of the message, she pondered why it couldn't have been delivered at a more suitable time. Such a question was unlikely to be answered, as none other than Rulonom Laborr - Viceroy of the Galactic Trade Federation materialized before her.

"Chief Logistical Minister Suu, I have been expecting your briefing of the Dark Empire's operations for quite some time now." Laborr exclaimed through the hissing mechanisms of the pressurized suit, offering a disappointed gaze behind the armored googles. "I comprehend the vexation, Viceroy. However, it was wiser at that particular moment to exercise patience until the Dark Empire's surveillance on the transmission traffic had diminished. This brings to mind..." The Gossam Businesswoman extended her hand towards the control panel, deftly adjusting the transmission number by a single digit. This subtle manipulation ensured that any communication officer monitoring the broadcast would perceive the numbers corresponding to the Interstellar Stock Exchange, rather than capturing the actual conversation.

"A wise choice, considering the swift escalation of hostilities between the Galactic Alliance and the Dark Empire. In due time, both factions will be too preoccupied to notice that the Trade Federation is benefiting from their conflict simultaneously. With every new incursion and victory from either faction, we will be able to swiftly penetrate new markets as the existing ones crumble." The Viceroy provided a comprehensive explanation, emphasizing the importance of instigating further conflict between the Alliance and the Empire. By doing so, the Viceroy aimed to create a situation where both sides would deplete their resources, enabling the Federation to intervene and offer loans and resources to sustain the ongoing battle. This strategy made it significantly easier to weaken factions when they were indebted to the Federation.

"I agree, Viceroy. The establishment of the Commission for Logistics, Industry and Transportation has greatly increased the likelihood of implementing this plan. This influential government agency will grant us the ability to oversee the immense industrial power of the Dark Empire, not for their advantage, but for our own. As we incorporate each new alliance planet, they will seamlessly transform into fully-fledged Federation Planets, smoothly transitioning from Alliance Federation Control to Imperial Federation Control without the Ruling Council's knowledge." The Gossam responded to the Skakoan's plan by preparing meticulously within the confines of the Dark Empire in order to secure the Federation's survival in the Great Galactic game, ensuring minimal impact on their assets.

 

[Isar]

Aboard the Duchess…

Feet up on the gunnery dash display, Isar leaned back in his chair as far as it would go. Whisps of ixetal cilona curled from the end of a death stick as he took a drag.

“Just remember, I get at least one goody from your artifact trust fund.”

Smoke filtered out of his nose.

Corsairs like them thrived in this new regime - as much as anyone could. Carte Blanche to raid shit. Nobody cared about the amount of drugs they did or how much alcohol they pounded back. That was how the two met - in a cantina that Isar couldn’t remember on their umpteenth drink. The two got along - after Isar drunkenly threatened to shoot Ahren and leave him in an alley.

Just the way things went. Now look at them, raiding a stash of ancient Sith relics. Who would have thought?

 

[Olorion Fossk]

| NEW SITH ORDER | CONCECRATION |
Darth Vinaze | Detritus Ren | Darth Bellum | Onrai | Khamul Kryze | Darth Immortuos | Shannic Wulf | Lord Letifer | Darth Ptolemis | Spindle | Cornelius Nibocaj | Romi Jade | Pietro Demici
​

Before all of us, the church members were gathering the supplies of the sacrifice. Yet as that took place, many members of the Orders underneath the banner of the Dark Empire, came and swore fealty to my father. Their Emperor, their Sith'ari. This kind of power, to have others swear such words to one individual was almost intoxicating for one such as myself, yet also such demanding of ones mind. This kind of power is something all Sith aspired to have. To control more pieces on a board, than that of anyone else. Yet, these people's lives were also in his hand. Their failures, their mistakes were also his own. There was a give and take to any kind of power that could have been bequeathed to one such.

Breaking this sacrament, was the voice of the captured Jedi. She had been revered for her prowess in battle. Her ability to fight against the Sith whole heartedly. Romi Jade. Her reputation preceded her. I knew of her, yet had never seen her in the flesh. And now, today, it was my duty, to present her before my father, and bring an end to her life, for the sacrifice of our temple.

It must have been such a dreaded feeling. To be able to fight for so long, yet the end be determined by a simple pain. I felt only pity for the woman. I respected strong individuals. She was strong, but used that power in the wrong way, for the wrong people, and ideals. The jagged dagger was ready. I could feel the force flowing through the Sithly artifact. It yearned for blood. For hers, and the Ashlan Crusader Pietro. Their values of life were misguided. And for it, they will be paying the ultimate sacrifice.

Her frozen frame was moved to that upon the dais in which her blood would run from. All for the sake of our sacrament.

Yet before the command to do so was given, the figure of fortune it seemed. Passed out words of wisdom. One in which would be headed. Something yearned for my hand? Something named Gorger. As much though I wished to seek this Gorger, I would not do so in the moment. Instead, simply continue my task of what was given to me. To be the hand of my father.

Even as the others continued to almost pine for my fathers attention, like children seeking their mother's embrace, I continued preparations. Making sure the tome I would read from was on the correct page, the rite of words that I would speak at their death, and how we would all use their vessels for the coming age of Sith, and the Dark Empire. Once it was done, I closed the distance between myself and the man who everyone looked up to. No bow, no reverence at the moment. Only to provide information.

"The First Sacrifice is ready, Should we prepare the second one as well for you my lord."

All of this was almost sickening to me. I cared not for having all of these others here to take part of such a delicate process. For spectacle I could understand. Yet, so many of them here, using this as a moment to beseech such a man only made my blood want to boil. To have them move to the side and wait with their pleasantries for after the ceremony was done.

Yet I could not do anything as much as I will do what I must.