Tears rain down from the sky [Invite Only]

[Reverance]

Panatha

Vain Hollow

Early Morning

A castle atop the world, the planet spewed burnt hate in futile resistance of the cresting. A lone star viper descended from the clutches of the Immortal, the raggedy ship a mere toy in the throes of the land, as ash fell upon barren land. The map, flashing a blue hue within the cockpit, gave indication of the Iron Mountains and the inclination of [member="Darth Vornskr"] to build his empire north of it, upon volcanic plateau and snow. The Sith Lord in the cockpit shook his head at the magnitude of the display, the defenses, and the gothic themes that crawled up the structures like snakes slivering upon bark. It was something to behold, the viewer inclining towards the location as a small blip hidden behind the veil of ash slowly drew near in effort to show true fortitude and size. As he set the viper down, it's claws extending from the body to dig deep into earth and stone, Gabriel dislodged himself from the vessel and kicked open the ramp.

The taste of soot and wind blasted cinder filled his lungs upon egress, the hot and cold nature was something not lost to him. Pulling up the armorweave robe, the crimson eye bore down upon the land and the scorched earth scars that marred it's surface. Beneath his feet, the ache of the world shifted in burps of volcanic tumbling, the belly tremors of an amassed power that constantly threatened to reveal itself. It wasn't enough to just feel it, he need to reach into it, to culminate his plans into something palpable, something preyed upon. As he leaned down, he pressed the palm into ash and scraped it away, snow plowed to reveal the asphalt below, as igneous rock and volcanic embedded debris revealed itself to his keen eye. What an odd place, he thought to himself, as he stood up to evaluate the rust colored sky that broke in clouded chasms that promised of fire and inferno. The world was hot, the images of the jungle left in the wake of his arrival, for something the more closely resembled the dead and dying.

Turning from the vehicle, he lifted the cowl and secured it to his head. His intentions were to speak to the Voice towards plans of strife and disruption. After all, a man had to have his hobbies. And as it were, it seemed, from the rumors alone, that the Voice and the Hand shared coalescing interests. As he approached the door, he radiated his presence in a symbolic gesture, ringing the door bell with the equivalent of gunshots and explosions.

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The door, a massive monolith of dark iron and steel, slowly creaked open as a pair of Graug pulled it open with groans and grunts. Beyond the door lay the realm of the Sith Lord Vornskr, a massive gothic construction of horrific wonder made from black iron, dark steel, and bloodied stone. High arches lined the ceilings and ran down the walls, and in between them were various assortment of art. Paintings, sculptures, tapestries, and murals of all shapes, sizes, and topics. Most of them, however; were based around the Epicanthix's war culture, and many featured varying forms of violence and death, while others featured just the notion of violence and war. Various servants and guards wandered about the massive foyer, some of them not even paying the new arrival, but from the top of the grand stair case came forth a single Epicanthix dressed in gold and scarlet vestments holding a scepter topped with a circular orb made from some sort of crimson stone.

"The Master has been anticipating your arrival, Lord Reverance, and he has commanded me to bring you before him."

The Epicanthix bowed, his ebony locks falling in front of his chiseled face with the motion, but with his free hand he slowly slicked them back over his ears. He then gestured towards the staircase behind him, and began to ascend it, bidding the Sith Lord to follow him. He would lead Reverance up the stairs, and through a series of winding corridors until they had reached a system of lifts that ran through the center of the massive spire that comprised the majority of Vornskr's mighty citadel. The emissary would step into one of the open lifts, gesturing again for Reverance to come and join him, and with a press of a button they began their trip to the apex of the tower, where Vornskr's throne room resided. The trip to the throne chamber was roughly silent, as the emissary kept to himself and did not speak to the Sith Lord at all, but rather fiddled with his scepter anxiously until they reached their destination.

"Beyond these doors likes my Master's throne, and he has commanded that only you may enter."

He bowed again, and quickly disappeared into some adjacent corridor, leaving Reverance alone to enter. Beyond those doors was a massive throne room, not as massive as the foyer though, but far more grand and gothic. Rows of columns ran across each side of the walkway leading to the throne, and dark braziers burned with an unnatural fire. The throne itself was made of a ugly black iron, and sat upon a platform ringed by stone stairs. Vornskr himself sat upon the black iron throne, wearing garb similar to the armor he wore in battle, but covered by thick black zeyd-cloth robes that trailed down to his ankles. A crown of onyx metal set by square-cut rubies rested atop his brow, and a pendant bearing the sigil of his house was strung around his neck. The Emperor smiled, and rose to greet his fellow Sith:

"Ahh, Lord Reverance. It is a pleasure to see you greet me in my own home."

[member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

The Sith Lord was led around, as one is often to do, when in a place not of their own. That was fine, it was hard enough navigating here in the star viper, the luxury of just following was one not normally afforded to him. From the view of blood and sanguine eye, he took in the glorious spectacle that resided behind heavy and cumbersome stone. As a mercenary and wandering Sith Lord, he had had the luxury of knowing many Epicanthix, some leaning towards the light and some towards the dark. It was often difficult to distinguish them from humans, though their mental prowess and capabilities to withstand force powers that afflicted the mind was something of note. He, in his years, had adapted a similar resistance, though his was one born entirely of practice and hundreds of years of withstanding his inner being. So when he looked upon these murals and these pieces of art, displaying the historical precedence of the war like notions diffused deep into the very culture of the Epicanthix, he took comfort in the personal knowledge that such things were true and precise.

The first Epicanthix, a man of spectacular garb, greeted him with a respect and scepter in hand. His ovation was met with a casual nod, not something often squandered. But it was well placed, nonetheless. And then, Gabriel was back to following, though the guide had changed, the action was quite similar. Stairs and corridors and gothic spires, oh my! The Citadel was an illusion, if ever there was one, in it's capacity to contain a volume far exceeding the display of it's space from the outside. A stone box, that within, encompassed it's own and independent world. The lift, a single gesture from the Epicanthix, elevated the two high into the crescendo of the tour, journeying into the towers apogee. With a last wavering salute, the solitary and cordial Epicanthix was gone, down some corridor, a stalking butler to await his next command. Gabriel merely raised and eyebrow, hidden within his own mannerisms, as he entered the final room of the citadel, the final point of departure. Departure from what, one might ask. Departure from sanity, departure from mercy, departure from peace. Upon the shores of cruelty and depravity, these two would find themselves on equal and solid footing.

The throne room was perhaps breathtaking. Whether that was an insult or a compliment, it would be left to the imagination. Gabriel wasn't one for the grand and dramatic, a least in respects to places of residence. As for the battlefield, that was a different matter altogether. But as he walked between the gothic columns of blackness and looked upon sconces burning bright, casting shadows against blackened walls of dancing flames, he gazed upon the silhouette of a man sitting upon a throne. The throne was dark and brutal, but it smelled of blood and sinew and bone. No matter what color you painted it, the stench of mineral was hard to pull from the pores. Even more so when ones hands were covered with the crimson tracks, washed away but never truly free of it. And as Gabriel stopped, in greeting of the Voice of the One Sith, he merely placed his hand upon his chest and gave the slightest of bows.

"Emperor Vornskr, the pleasure is mine. I came to congratulate you...rumors have spread of your accomplishments on Manaan." He raised his head, the hood dropping from scalp to reveal the haggard one eyed face of a man in high spirits. Of course, the Sith had much to celebrate from Manaan, but Kaine had also been wounded on that day. Give and take, sacrifices were made, and perhaps the mentioning of it wouldn't go over as well as the topic of laurels and accolades.

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Kaine waved the congratulations away, "Enough with the pleasantries. You did not come all this way to my world just to praise my accomplishments." The Emperor began to descend the stairs leading up to his throne with slow meticulous steps, his cloak trailing behind him as he walked. As he neared, the details of his garb became more and more clear. What at a distance seemed like a blank breastplate now displayed the image of a horned, muscular figure with outstretched arms basking in a glorious firestorm. Beyond that there were carvings of various Sith runes all over his armor, most of them with no meaning at all, but a great many of them spoke of the philosophy of the One Sith. One passage, however; was more prominent than all others, and it was engraved directly above the demonic figure.

It read:

"Is tave qorit, Nu vune valia kioska ant tave lavonas iv zo plejada itsu sas nuyak valia."

What this meant exactly was dependent on how well Reverance could discern and translate ancient Sith, and only then would he discover it's meaning and the possible implications behind it. However; Kaine was quick to stand before the Lord of Pain, towering over the one-eyed Sith by a good ten inches or so, and he inclined his head to look down at him. "Your intentions are well hidden from my scrying, so why don't we cut to the chase, and you explain to me why you've come here." Obviously the fact that he had been unable to divine Reverance's intentions prior to their meeting did not bode well with the Epicanthix Sith, whose tone was quick and hungering. However; his thoughts turned to one deep within the bowels of his castle, and he began to piece together a possible link between her and Reverance's mention of Manaan and the rumors of his accomplishments.

Interesting.

[member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

Pleasantries...so closely resembling peasantry. Perhaps that is why kings did not partake. And while Gabriel may have not been a king or emperor as Darth Vornskr, he had stood upon burning worlds, throne of cinder and crackling split wood. If that didn't make him King then, well, perhaps we would never vault into such lofty position. But it was true, the Lord of Pain had about as much interest in the small talk as the Emperor of Panatha, both minds turning towards more pressing desires. However, little would they both know, that their desires found penumbra upon the damaged grandmaster, the shared space between two seemingly overlapping circles.

Gabriel wasn't one for the Sith culture by and large. While he reflected their goals and the progressive movements towards change, his sentiments towards the zealous and dark ways was merely a skin abrasion upon the beast of the One Sith. A scratch against the ice and cool to the touch, his interests lied more in the generalist sort of damage one could cause themselves and the universe around them. That so happened to land him squarely in the place to serve the Dark Lord of the Sith, few other factions capable of withstanding the sort of injury he was intent on inflicting. And truly, that was enough for the Dark Lord and in turn, enough for the man often called Reverance. A burdensome name, adopted for the sentiment it carried, and often veiling the true name that lied beneath. This encounter would serve in the same format, a lord begetting a lord.

"A practiced trait..." He spoke with a smile and heat tilt as the Voice of the Dark Lord stood before him, a shadow cast long and harsh across the floor. Their silhouettes of the lords danced, in tango, to the beats of licking flames upon wall. "I have sought you out in concern for the gap that separates us. We are of a like mind and I would bridge that gap." His words exuded power, one of confidence and thick with arrogance, a thing born of death and decay and the letting of it from within clenched fingers upon neck. His aura, his words, were cold and familiar, as if exchanging with someone whom he had known for quite some time. Which was quite contrary to the situation, two men who knew of only each others actions, absent the keen eye to gaze upon it.

Gabriel had never seen such a pale Epicanthix before, an oddity, and by his size, an additional divergence from the norm. It was a curious thing, to stand before such a man and while Gabriel couldn't stand to the height, the muscles and stature upon his body spoke lengths to the power he wielded. While robed, the slow crawl of black tribal ink, hued in a green sheen, revealed themselves upon his tanned throat, not ascending beyond that. Beneath black robe and armor, a body marred in the symbols and scars intertwined, hinting towards similar marks as bore upon Asanté Vos. He was never keen on the notion of his Kiffar heritage, a thing merely honored upon the surface of his skin in the hue of his mothers clan. Even so, he had never taken part in the practice of qukuuf, as he spent all of his childhood upon Arkania, far removed from the notions of matriarchal inheritance. Something his father would have scoffed at, so long ago.

"But now that I am here, curiosity removes focus...I would take pleasure in looking upon your quarry. I would know what sort of prize would tempt you from withdrawing forces upon Manaan." A thing only heard about, tossed from numerous runners on the grapevine. And it wasn't a command, despite the wording. Merely a request to look upon wildflower, bruised and wilted.

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Indeed?" The Emperor and Voice of the Dark Lord crossed both of his arms in front of him, clasping his hands upon the metal vabraces that armored them. His eyes, one naturally emerald and the only a foreign lilac, stared down at him with a piercing gaze that hungered for the sins of others. In this one, they would beheld much sin, perhaps more than any other he had encountered before. Nay, Kaine thought; for that was a lie. There were only several whose sins dwarfed all others, yet most of them were gone from this world, their ruin scatted in the Force like ashes upon a crossroad. The chiefest and greatest of those was the nefarious Darth Moridin, whom ruled over the Old Empire shortly after it's inception as the first Sith Emperor, and spread chaos and destruction throughout the dominions of the Empire's foes. In that time Kaine was but the learner, and he stood at the right side of the great Moridin as Vizier.

It amused him to no end that he outlived them all, the great lords and ladies of the before time, those who wielded such great powers and held in their treasuries malignant artifacts of long forgotten magic. He, a child born of forbidden love, who began his career as nothing but an agent rose to such prominence, and became one of the most feared lords of the modern age. Yet, his work was not yet done, for he had no intention of passing that mantle to another, yet the secrets of immortality continued to elude his grasp, but he was close. So very close.

"My prize?" Aha! It was as he was beginning to suspect, the Lord of Pain wished to gaze his eyes upon what he coveted the most, but would the Black Iron Tyrant let him be privy to his treasures? Perhaps, but then again, perhaps not. "I'm afraid that you may have come all this way for nothing, Lord Reverance. I am not so keen on giving you an audience with my prize, with my trophy. However..." He spared a glance back towards a darkened corridor to the far left of the wall that bordered his throne, and a coy grin slowly spread across his face as he returned his gaze to the Lord of Pain. "I may have something almost as enticing for you to gaze upon."

[member="Reverance"] | [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Reverance]

May. Afraid. The words were but emphasized more in the mind of a man set upon his purpose, a monster with jaw clasped and unwilling to relent. Unwilling, for the moment, to let loose the idea of laying eye upon the Grandmaster, likely chained and beaten and brutalized in ways that the Lord of Pain could only imagine. Within his grasp, the Emperor of Panatha had in his dungeon an individual that Gabriel decidedly wished to see. It was unfortunate, being in a place of disadvantage, one that the Arkanain Kiffar hybrid was unaccustomed and surely quick to escape, given the opportunity. But for now, he would press at the strings just a bit harder, to see if efforts could yield reward.

"Emperor..." He spoke from the side of his mouth, a tinge of persuasiveness cutting across parted lips. "I look to strike out against a specific planet, to cause strife. If you would afford me the chance to look upon the Grandmaster and speak select words, I would see to it that wound cut across the planets flesh bore the branding of not Reverance, but instead Darth Vornskr." It was an offer, one that given the same situation, Gabriel was not sure he could deny. Nevertheless, if this didn't work, offer of damage done in the name of Darth Vornskr, then Gabriel would have to progress along with his plans as is. But, for a moment, the Hand of the Dark Lord grasped at straws, assuming that the Voice desired the same sort of vociferous impact of the universe as his own. After all, if he truly wanted to stand upon the corpse of the universe, he would need help in doing so. These two weren't the type to lay in the shadows, moving pieces within the veil of darkness. No, they were the bold and nameless, rooks and bishops for the One Sith machine. They deserved to be known, their power and capacity a thing to instill fear in minds of Jedi and the Republic and the rest of the universe that questioned such things. And Gabriel was willing to sacrifice this appetizer of things to come, to in turn owe a favor to the ruler of Panatha and bridge to the Fringe. And who better to have favored owed, than from Reverance, a man with select skills and an over eagerness to practice them.

His crimson eye turned towards the counter offer provided by Darth Vornskr and smiled at the idea of something else being available. Surely he would take what he could get, but first he would take a shot and the champ and only relent with second refusal.

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Oh, how mischievous of you, Reverance.

The Emperor mused amusingly in his mind as he mulled over his words, and then a thought truly hit him. Now that the Grandmaster, the thorn in his side, was finally within his clutches, there would be no one with enough strength or conviction left to oppose his schemes across the worlds of his enemies. So what Reverance said did hold much merit in his mind, but Kaine was still unwilling to let him gaze upon his prize. It was a irrational hoarding that clashed against Reverance's wishes and inquiries, but he had something almost as good as the real thing. He also was able to guess what planet that the Lord of Pain had in mind, well, at least give an educated guess with the knowledge he had gleamed from Grayson previously. "You seek to cause strife on Kiffu, don't you? I have learned in my studies that the former Grandmaster of the Jedi Order is of Kiffu nobility, but has shunned and hidden her heritage for years. What a waste, if you asked me."

Kaine frowned, and then momentarily turned away from the Lord of Pain, before whirling back on him with some ferocity. "The prize is mine, Reverance, and I will not share in it's spoils. However! I have been studying her for awhile now, and have been tinkering with her blood. My knowledge of flesh-shaping has come a long way, and I have been testing the creation of Force-Sensitive clones in my laboratory, and I think my newest creation might please you."

[member="Reverance"] [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Spirit of Patience]

C'Sami had been privy to the entirety of the conversation thus far. Though it's context and nuances were beyond her, she listened with a silence and patience foreign to her biological origin. Elements of her chemistry had been manipulated to make her far more favourable and useful to the god-King of Panatha. Elements of domestication that the Grandmaster of her canvas would never have mirrored.

And never would. It was because of this that C'sami's design had been born from the Jedi's resilience and inability to break.

The shadows veiled her physical. Art of the Small, a force technique her mother-origin had mastered, concealed her ethereal. The assassin was nigh undetectable until summoned. Or, until she wished to be known.

For now, the pleasure of the damned waited in the palms of darkness until there was a time that her creator expressed a desire for her presence.

 

[Reverance]

The Emperor had jumped to conclusions...and landed upon proper footing. How odd, Gabriel thought, that Darth Vornskr would estimate the intents of the Hand with such accuracy and precision. One might think that the Epicanthix could read minds, until he spoke of the Grandmasters shared heritage with the Lord of Pain. Truth be told, Gabriel did not realize that [member="Kiskla Grayson"] was of Kiffu, the markings of her clan never shown upon her face in any images he had ever seen of her. Curious, that she would go to such lengths to conceal her identity. If the intent was to dissuade Gabriel from his pursuit, such revelations brought nothing but a burning sort of jealousy to the forefront of Gabriel's mind. One that he masked in his own mental defense and hatred, but one that existed nonetheless. It was true, he had turned mind towards Kiffu, but more for the hatred he bore his mother, and not some hatred he bore for a Jedi of which he knew very little. What once was a curiosity to lay eye upon skin torn and the work of the Vornskr, was now a curiosity for the thing itself. In this dungeon, in this castle, or on the field of battle, he would know this individual, mired in the cruel affections of an Emperor and the obsessive gaze of a Sith Lord who wasn't accustomed to not getting what he wanted.

The Prize is his...for now. To the outburst, he but stood his ground and lifted his hands, palms up. "Your house, your rules..." In his own way, Gabriel swallowed his desires in an expression of taking what he could get. For now, he would accept the machinations of the man upon this plateau, left to his own devices, with the desire to cause damage in all forms of conjured manner. "Show me..." He displayed a leveled curiosity within a smirk, deflected from the Grandmaster for the time being. Towards this work, towards this flesh-shaping, and towards the implementation of cloning technologies to cause grievous wound. The direction of such ill will, beyond the target of the general universal population, had yet to be divined by the Sith Lord. Little did he know, the identity of such experimentation lied in hiding, waiting for the proper provocation for introduction.

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | C'sami Ssozi

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Satisfied, the tyrant turned once again to look at the shadows that concealed his latest creation, and with a simple snap of his fingers he beckoned her to come forth from the darkness and reveal herself to the Lord of Pain. Kaine turned back to face Reverance, and began to elaborate: "My experiments have finally begun to bear fruit, you see. For a long time I have meddled and tinkered with the building blocks of life, crafting into existence many things that the Jedi would blindly call an affront to the Force, but it is through the very Force itself that I shape things to my desire. I have created many failures, and some successes, but this thing, this creature that I have called [member="C'sami Ssozi"], a near-perfect copy of the Grandmaster, is my crowning achievement. She possess the skills, the power, the ferocity of the original combined with the will, and cunning of a Sith."

He neglected to mention that she also had the obedience of a well-trained servant, which he did because he did not want to mention the defects in the clone that manifested itself as brazen moments of wild independence, a possible leftover from the original's DNA that Kaine has so far been unable to stamp out completely. "She is to be my assassin, her skills will allow her to slip unseen by most, and kill efficiently. She will become an excellent agent in our war."

[member="Reverance"]

 

[Spirit of Patience]

C’sami had been working through rigorous routines to make sure her capabilities would meet the expectations of her creator. From the first moments of blinking in the lighting of the laboratory, she had been growing into her legs and limbs like a fawn. A fawn that was immediately trained to be mercilessly effective. Her muscles were imbued with a similar prodigal Force Strength as her biological mistress, tainted and poisoned heavily by Vornskr’s machinations.

Because the room was fairly empty was easy for her to hone her focus — although her senses were supernaturally sharp, they were mostly unused in situations beyond the combat ring hosted on Panatha. There was validity to Vornskr’s words, for she would not allow her god-king to speak falsehoods about her performance abilities. They had been proven, shortly after her creation, in the gladiatorial arena of Panatha. This was for both entertainment and training purposes — for the Epicanthix demon held many prisoners in his keep for his disposal. And she efficiently murdered all those in opposition, of course stopping after each one to look for approval. Which she was awarded.

The snap of the hand indicated a desire for her appearance. A quick shift of weight started her forward momentum and C'sami moved from the eclipse she’d been shielded by and down the hallway. The soft echo of her heels would be the first followup to her introduction, and the dramatic unveiling of the lighting would do the rest. When Vornskr announced that she was to be an assassin, she stepped just off to the side of [member="Darth Vornskr"] and [member="Reverance"] would behold a physical replica of the Grandmaster he wished to see. The only differences were the lack of tattoos on her flesh, pristine white hair, and crimson eyes. The rest, however, was a perfect reflection; which was mostly exhibited in form-fitting apparel that Grayson would not usually sport. We’ll chalk it up to an agility benefactor.

 

[Reverance]

The Sith Lord listened intently to the madness boil over, the work of a man upon pedestal crafted, and left to his own devices. The amount of trouble one could get into, when prone to such hostile sort of interests, was exponentially amplified when given proper resources and space to work. And, in just the small amount of time that Gabriel had spent in this location, he realized that @Darth Vornksr had both in spades and the angry envisioned motivation to pursue his goal with unequaled fervor. A spider, when given the time and space, builds a magnanimous web indeed.

With ,ind and focus planted upon the words coming forth from the Emperor of Panatha, the crimson eye drifted upon the image of the Grandmaster approaching him in form fitting wear. He had only seen Kiskla a minuscule few times, but gifted with a sort of photographic memory and reception, hers was one easily branded across the mind. Not only for the elegance of her features, but also the uniqueness of her traits. And of course, this one was merely the image of the one he had known from afar, gifted with the battlements of the original but a tenacity that far exceeded her, if the words of Darth Vornskr were held to truth. There weren't a lot of individuals that could sneak up on Gabriel, a specific attunement to the proximal atmosphere around the body, the notion that he didn't see her before she was there, well it worried him for the briefest moment. Perhaps, had he been expecting a specter in the shadows, he would have known to look for something. He reassured himself, doubt flung to the back of his mind for the time being.

Hair of platinum white, crimson eyes with a vibrancy to match his own, and free of qukuuf. Of course, Kiskla had appeared in most parts to be free of it, so that didn't count for much. But the Sith Lord expected that the skin remained untainted from ink, a lack of needing it spurred it's own absence. Departing from the gaze of Darth Vornskr, Gabriel moved to circle @C'sami Ssozi, as if an arms dealer inspect a nuclear warhead for dings and defects. If she had any sort of meekness about her, his visual dissection of her form would be unsettling at best. And the act was dual purposed, for if she was going to be used for the sort of work that Darth Vornksr had described, she would need to grow accustomed to gazes upon her, staring through her, as if she didn't even exist. That is what it was to be the shadows, to be the nothingness that lied in the corner, waiting and watching.

And yet, he realized that in his own way, the Emperor had pulled on the strings of the very plan that Gabriel had intended to set forth. While he still desired to meet the Grandmaster, he suddenly realized that a goal could be achieved with a face that so perfectly mirrored that of Kiskla. As he completed his slow circle, he crossed his arms partially and lifted a free hand to cover his mouth, caressing the worn skin with a calloused palm. Behind hand, a smile hid, that was reflected in the raising of his eyebrows. He gestured towards C'sami with lifted hand as he looked to [member="Darth Vornskr"]. "Very impressive, Emperor...very impressive indeed. Tell me of her skills, specifically..." His eye turned towards the clone. "Better yet, why don't you tell me of your skills...C'sami?" He had a natural tendency to treat her as a clone baby. But by the looks of things, that would be a habit he would quickly break.

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Spirit of Patience]

Ruby irises flicked to her creator for a moment, as if seeking permission. There was no verbal response, nor a physical inclination from [member="Darth Vornskr"]. But something within her, perhaps it was that independent streak, had told her she'd earned the right to self-gloating from time to time.

She would have liked her abilities to precede her. But she supposed that would come in time. She was just over a week or two old, after all. C'sami reckoned she'd have to continue shadowing and overpowering Vornskr's armies and centurions before they knew her name. The world knew her face, but under a revolting context. They now needed to know her unyielded power--- under the contexts she created and her master willed.

Finally after a few moments of silence, the kiffar accent manifested itself above the crackle of the fire lanterns in answer to [member="Reverance"].
"I wouldn't be standing here if I were useless, lord." Her face was listless as she spoke, remaining rigid. "You wish I hear of my defining skills that make me a nightmare for the selected targets.

Art of the Small is a technique I was created with, my origin being a master of manipulating microscopic organisms. Psychometric tracking abilities also stem from my origin.

My combat is unparalleled in speed and agility. Those slain by my blade in the Master's arena are testimony."

A small, eerie smile crept along the lips that were as sizeable as Kiskla's. "Should that arsenal not be enough, I'm an incredibly fast learner."

 

[Reverance]

"No, I imagine you wouldn't be..." He commented on her notion of uselessness. She had a swathe of uses, he could see that now, even beyond her capacity to sneak up on others. "And I see that the cloning process did nothing to stave off your heritage..." He couldn't see the marks upon her skin, though he was still hesitant to accept that they weren't there, but he could hear the kiffar tones in her voice. He had adopted such mannerisms as a child, while spending time with his mother, but quickly lost them to the whims of his Arkanian father and the blood spilled from hands. But these words and capacities to cause harm were merely that: Words. C'sami had listed off her prowess as if reading dribble across parchment, the force and it's inclinations something injected into her, without so much as the training and understanding that came along with it. She was likely a thing of instinct, which in and of itself was a powerful notion. With understanding and true knowledge, pain the instructor, she could be far more formidable than her Jedi counterpart.

"You were correct, Darth Vornskr, in your assumption that I held plans for Kiffu...a son striking vengeance against a mothers abandonment. A cliche if I had ever heard one, but the truth nonetheless." No point in hiding his intentions now, not when Vornskr had so willingly shown the fruits of his labor. Fruits that Gabriel would endeavor to put to good use, as he approached Kiskla to an almost uncomfortable degree, not paying mind to first ask Vornskr's permission in his next line of question. Afterall, he assumed that the Voice had unveiled her for reason. "Tell me, C'sami Ssozi..." The Sith Lord drew out the syllables as he inspected her cheek structure and the perfections that laid within, a spitting image of the Grandmaster. "How do you feel about putting Kiffu to the torch and putting those skills of yours to use...outside the Master's arena?" If it sounded like he was mocking her accomplishments, then the sounds were ringing true. He put very little significance into the concept of fighting in a controlled environment. Nevertheless, he was enthusiastic about her potential.

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Spirit of Patience]

Now this time the crimson gaze rested longer on [member="Darth Vornskr"], deflecting the query about Kiffu to him. C’sami was in the home of her creator, and would not shame him in front of his guests.

Kiffu held no meaning to her. She knew little of her generated heritage, and the value of the planet was absent in her mind. If it was deemed worthy of torching, and brought pleasure to the god-King — then very well. At this time though, it held no weight.

“A sword can only be sharpened.” C’sami offered placidly, looking back toward [member="Reverance"] while she anticipated the approval or … something of Vornskr. If he objected, then she would of course withdraw. But to stretch her prowess and exercise her abilities? That was not an opportunity she'd deny. She'd likely have to be careful, though. The unveiling and charade of her representing her counterpart would need to be delicate. She was created to deceive and kill the Jedi -- letting that bubble pop too soon would make her, indeed, useless.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Kaine remained silent while they conversed back and forth, letting his creation's words and mannerisms speak for themselves, but he knew when his word was needed. "My thoughts have occasionally drifted to Kiffu, I will admit. Although, many planets have caught my eye, and all of them held by our enemies. Iridonia, Ansion, even Zeltros, and all of them failures because of one Jedi. Now, with that Jedi removed from the equation, and with a superior being crafted from her blood, there will not be many left to oppose me. Your desires for striking out at Kiffu may differ from mine, but I believe that our end goal will be most likely the same." He placed a single hand on [member="C'sami Ssozi"]'s shoulder, his fingers lightly digging into the fabric that covered them, "Together, we will burn Kiffu, and she will be our instrument of annihilation."

His mouth curled into a hungering smirk, his eyes twinkled with malice, and his entire body reverberated with a violent anticipation. "And we will test her mettle on the Kiffar. Their warriors will provide an adequate obstacle."

[member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

"A plan it is then..." He spoke with a slight smile as he watched the pale Epicanthix fingers cling into the shoulders of the Kiffar clone. Gabriel, in truth, didn't see the other planets as a failure towards their own intention, especially in the placing of blame at the feet of a single Jedi. But then again, he didn't dwell within the mind of the Emperor. But even with the lack of understanding, he could appreciate the growing anticipating and enthusiasm towards their mission. With time, things would change, he assured himself, as his crimson focus turned to gaze upon the newly minted warrior.

"A sword can be sharpened...and a sword can be wielded. We will endeavor to marry the two notions..." Words of the future and his own intentions. A blade sharpened, a blade wielded, a blade tested. All things would come in due time. And with that, the plans were made towards the fiery intent that so well defined the One Sith and the cogs that moved the machinations within.

[member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="C'sami Ssozi"]

 

[Spirit of Patience]

C'sami listened silently as the two Lords confirmed their diabolical plots. There were plans for her, plans for her to act on. An excited ripple coursed through her body and she straightened, folding her hands behind her. There didn't seem much to say, simply acquiescence from her creator. And he seemed to give it. Together. She could work with [member="Darth Vornskr"] and this equally damned Sith, [member="Reverance"].

"Whatever you need done, Lords -- you can count on it being accomplished."