Private The Emptiness of Dishonor

[Lord Depravious]

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|| LOCATION: NATHEMA

Nothingness..

A feeling that all beings are acquainted to in life.. and death. The barren surface of this planet chipped away at the husk of a soul still inside of the man.

It has been said that if a force user spent too much time on Nathema it would drive them mad due to the lack of any force presence on the planet at all. Was Shaidin Kamari a mad man? Many have thought so over the course of his life - but that was long before he ever stepped foot on Nathema.

The lifeless silence, the eternal void resonated in the mans heart as he gazed up to the stars contemplating his next moves within the greater galaxy as a whole with no small amount of thought.

This world was a direct representation of something that Shaidin swore he would never do again. In what felt like a lifetime ago or a past life he razed entire worlds for the one that he loved. Murdered brothers and sisters of his order - ready to sit upon a throne of ashes for the simple feeling of revenge.

The nothingness of this world ate at him. On even desolate worlds there always existed a force nexus, something that connected all living things on the planet no matter how few - together. Here the silence gnawed at the inner portions of his mind. The silence of his long dead wife, the silence that he has heard for the past several years inside of his castle, it all rested heavily upon his shoulders. He now found himself alone in the galaxy just as he finds himself alone entirely on this planet.

There was a chilling cold to Nathema - that would cut and gouge down to the very bone, but that cold is all that Lord Depravious felt in his heart. There was once a time where Lord Depravious had felt something inside of him - but that feeling was long gone - as he delved deeper into the bogan through out his life - the darkside had extracted a heavy toll and left him in this numb wasteland which he now found himself.

The silence was also a comfort though, it gave him time to think, time to calculate. Would he take the way of the Sith Order? He had heard rumor of a new Imperial Remnant gaining a spark of life. Or would an entirely separate path present itself before him?

The Darkside was a fickle mistress, and when attempting Future Sight - she tended to elude Shaidin more often than not.

Spasa

 

[Spasa]

Tags: Lord Depravious
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Cylaeria Samshij Kamari, known to the Jedi as Spasa meaning 'The Redeemed One' is an individual whose passions have forever been forged by her relationship to a name long forgotten, for regarding her abilities and her visage, her very soul is far too vain to alter either throughout reincarnations.

Spasa set her sights to touch down upon the spiritually dead world, long before the Force which led her, began to dwindle from her senses. Her own power housed within the fortress of her being, remaining lively and unaltered by the void, trickled outward her being as she moved, her aura a blinding white haze to those sensitive to such perceptions. She understood not why she found herself led to this point on the galactic grid; all she knows is that come she must, and obey she the Force she does. She never knows what is in store through its guidance, but it is always so commanding.

Within sight of a massive fortress, she touched down in a ravine where she could conceal her ship. She sat in the cockpit for a moment, flustered, for she had a gnawing sense that she had seen it before. Prepared mentally that she surely shall be tested by the Force, she eventually grabbed her gear and opened the hatch. The initial sensations she gathered stepping off the ramp, gripped hold of her with intention to bore into her soul.

She began to walk towards the fortress, sensing it the focus of her purpose here. She did not realize the reality that she could stand feet apart from another lifeform and have no inkling of their coincidental presence. It felt so very…infantile to need to rely solely on her human senses. The atmosphere weighed down upon her being, like slipping down into the confines of an ice fort, quiet, peaceful…but isolated. She had this nagging feeling that something from within herself wants to be remembered. The Ashla works in mysterious ways.

​

 

[Lord Depravious]

Tags: Spasa


The planet Nathema swallowed the aura of any Force user like a drop in a black ocean—an endless abyss where connection was not just severed but erased. Shaidin, however, had felt a slight shift in the darkside of the force as a familiar presence had made its way to Nathema. This was surely a rarity as typically all beings avoided it, force sensitive creatures more than others. The Rumors of this planet driving people mad were wide spread. And something all force users light and dark appreciate is their connection to the force – no matter your allegiance.

Shaidin Kamari watched the newcomer approach the palace. The presence struck him like the scent of old incense from a temple long burned—familiar, bittersweet, and utterly unmistakable. He didn't just recognize it. He knew.

The darkside of the force was a jealous mistress, it fed off of Lord Depravious's pain it felt like more than others. Forced him to relive losing the things he cared about over and over – and here stood yet another reincarnation of the one he loved, this time cloaked in the ashla.

A booming laugh thundered from his throat, echoing across the dead valley like a thousand war-trumpets blaring from ancient graves.

He had to admit, the force rivalled even himself when it came to Torture. This was a scenario that he had been through many times before – and in fact had just been threatened with on Korriban by a temptress seeking to consume his soul.

He began to journey towards the presence, each step that he took on this husk of a planet he could feel the force being drained from him – like a cup that simply couldn't be filled but always yearning for more.

"Let's see what cruel theater the Force stages for me this time," he muttered, stepping forward into the yawning dark.

 

[Spasa]

Tags: Lord Depravious
​

The gods had played a cruel joke on Spasa, that today she exists as a fractured soul. The Fanged God and the Ashla fought over her within the Netherworld, and ripped her in half, each running along their way with the portion they coveted. Now the Nether and the Empyrean each exist outside of Time's constraints, so that even while she walks the physical realm, she ever exists in her afterlife as well. It was Jax Thio who broke Spasa out of the Empyrean, and Darth Carnifex who raised the spirit of Pom Stych Tivé back to life. Forever she awaits within the Nether and the Empyrean to be brought back out into the physical realm again.

She realized the presence of another when she heard his ringing laughter, and focusing on the path ahead of her, she saw his shadow turn to meet her on her approach. She wondered if she might read anything about him if she could only touch him. She would have to settle for what she could read within his eyes. Everything else felt barren of life; could this man be the reason why she came? She wouldn't know.

As she got close, her eyes narrowed to focus upon the dark figure. He could have been nothing more than a phantom, but for the laughter still curled upon his lips…just maybe there is something else.

​

 

[Lord Depravious]

Tags: Spasa
In her gaze, she found no solace—only the searing fire of yellow and crimson eyes, burning with hatred. Behind them raged a storm, fierce and relentless, like molten lava churning in the heart of a volcano.

His laughter faded, and a quiet realization settled over him: the dark side was, as ever, a jealous mistress. It offered nothing but pain and suffering. Yet, he understood now—this pain was his prayer, his offering to the darkness.

As he stepped toward her, the dark side bled from him like blood from an open wound, saturating the air. The planet's desiccated nexus consumed it hungrily, draining power from both parties as if the very corpse of the world sought to erase the Force itself.

"So it would seem the Force has once again conspired to reunite us... only to watch us be torn apart."
His voice was deep and velvety, laced with a sultry bitterness. His eyes, like tempered daggers forged in contempt, held a pain hidden beneath their steel. She would see it only if she looked long enough—buried beneath a mask of resolve.

"Come, then," he said, his tone even, calm.

He unfastened the curved hilt from his belt, the crimson blade erupting with a violent hum to his side. Then, with practiced grace, he flourished the saber in front of him, his eyes closing as he inhaled deeply—centering himself for what was to come.

When his eyes opened again, they were locked, focused, and predatory. Not like a beast, nor a madman, but like a force of nature—cold, calculating, inevitable.

"Let us dance, then... a dance older than time itself."

 

[Spasa]

Tags: Lord Depravious​

She did not remember him based off her physical perceptions, but something inside of her core told her an ancient history was at play here. Her teacher, Jax Thio , taught her how to break out the power of the Force from within, and she to be its harbinger. But she knows death very intimately, and it really doesn't matter either way the outcome. She will just walk away from her afterlife, and cross back into the physical world at the same point in which she arrived.

Her mind latched onto his words, and his declared familiarity with her. She could not recall a name to his face for the life of her, but she believes she knows him. He was dramatic, emotional with his delivery, and set the stage for what would follow next.

'He wants to fight?'

She stood still for a moment just drinking in this unfolding development. She felt there must be something more. She couldn't have just been led here to fight a Sith…any Sith. "I really don't think that's it…" 'He KNOWS something!'

Maybe she can coax him into revealing the meaning behind his words, while she keeps him busy otherwise. The Jedi knew this engagement would be challenging indeed, as she felt the void begin to confound her senses. She lit the Lightside of Force from deep within her core, and it radiated through her being.

"But ok," she sighed, brandishing her Lightsaber in hand. She saw something familiar behind his eyes, into his soul.
​

 

[Lord Depravious]

Tag: Spasa

The woman's voice echoed through the chambers of his mind like a phantom wind stirring the ashes of forgotten lifetimes. Cold. Familiar. Wounding. It pierced through him—not in the way a blade would pierce flesh, but as a memory long buried claws its way to the surface, unbidden and unrelenting.

He had heard her voice before. Across centuries. Across lives. And each time, it had left a scar deeper than the last.

Yet, he knew she would not recognize him. Not truly. How could she? The cycle had turned too many times.

A flicker of resolution crossed his features as he took a single step forward, the crimson glow of his saber painting harsh lines across the shadows that danced on his armor.

"This will not be the first time I've had to strike you down," he said, his voice low and steady, carved from ancient stone and bound in sorrow. There was no rage behind the words—only the void. A hollow silence at his core that mirrored the desolate world around them.

"Perhaps not you…"

His form shifted, weight centered, movements precise. For any trained in the disciplines of the Jedi or Sith, his stance was unmistakable—Djem So, executed with the sharp discipline of a seasoned duelist, honed through lifetimes of repetition. The saber arced above his head, poised like a storm held in check by a single breath.

"But one who shared your soul," he finished, eyes narrowing slightly as the Force stirred like a wind behind him. "We are drawn together, again and again. The threads of fate tangled, tightened, and reforged in every age. And once more, it calls us here."

The hum of the crimson blade intensified as he surged forward with explosive power, the strike a masterwork of muscle, form, and fury barely leashed. A predator loosed—not upon an enemy, but upon a destiny he had long ceased trying to outrun.

 

[Spasa]

Tags: Lord Depravious
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She twirled upon ginger feet to avoid his aggressive strike, crouching low and extending her blade out horizontally in a complete turn. As she did so, she said to him, "Nu zinot nenx tapti' kia kamuoti tu'iea vele, mielis," she spoke in perfect dialect of their ancient tongue.

'I did not come to torture your soul.'​

He was wrong. Her spirit had been whole up until the past decade and a half; so whoever he believes her Darksided twin soul to have committed against him, Spasa's influence had also been present. The difference in their engagement this time, is that she doesn't believe herself to be merely possessed by she who is his phantom. Snippets of her past life were evaluated during her time in the Empyrean, and because of her eternal ties therein, she began to recall memories of the past they had shared.

It was passionate. It was full. It died and was again reborn. It was fed. It had also at one time faded. It survived in the end, unadulterated by lies…of which most cannot proclaim. Scenes tugged at her heart and she teared up.

As she continued to engage him, her mind did not much regard his actions, but she addressed his assault with precision. The real fight was inside their heads; at lease that is what the Ashla told her to be true.

"I gave up my eternal rest to join you…numerous times. Is your lust for power so strong that you cannot look upon me as I approach you?"

As she moved, her Moonstone amulet, bound by the magic of the goddess Ashla, to ever hang about her neck, glowed through the looming darkness. Her eyes flashed outward a blinding flicker of light, and for a brief moment, her irises were no longer visible, as a vision came to her mind. "Kaestyl is out there somewhere."
​

 

[Lord Depravious]

Tags: Spasa

Even as she spoke in their native and ancient tongue, she remained adrift - like a wayward soul stumbling through the darkest forest. The shadows crept in around her, clawing at the very fabric of her being, seeking to unravel her from within.

She needed distance. She needed time - to regroup, to wage the mental war she craved. But what she failed to grasp, what Shaidin Kamari understood all too well, was that this moment had played out before. Not once. Not twice. Time and time again, he had stood here—facing that same face, wearing a different name, a different mask.

And though she may not have sensed it, he had. The moment her other half made a decision - subtle, almost imperceptible - Shaidin felt the shift in the Force like a stone dropped in still water.

As she extended her blade outward, he remained rooted in the ironclad stance of Djem So. Their sabers clashed with a resonant screech of plasma on plasma. With deliberate intent, Shaidin brought their weapons into a tight "T" formation, drawing himself closer - so close their faces were mere inches apart.

His voice was a whisper, almost mournful. "No… I can't."
A flicker of sadness traced across his features - there and gone in an instant—before he pressed forward, power surging through his arms. Their blades inched closer toward her face. Here, strength alone would dictate the outcome - and now, he brought the full weight of his might to bear.

Then, her eyes ignited—blinding white light searing into his vision. He pulled back instinctively, severing the saber lock to recover. His senses were honed enough to fight without sight, but sight was always preferable.

His voice came sharp, cutting through the humming clash like a blade through silk.
"No. They are all dead."

There was no mask left now - no veil of nobility to cover the disgust curling at the edges of his tone.

"You may be lost in this… but I am not. I can feel your other half - feel the shift in the Force. You, and the others like you, have always been my weakness. And now even other Sith dare to use you as a weapon against me."

He took a breath, grounding his fury in resolve.

"But I will cut down every weakness the Dark Side presents, even if each time I do… it leaves me with a wound that will never heal."

His words became motion. A sudden shift - a flicker of Form IV, Ataru. The grounded strength of Djem So gave way to an acrobatic blur as he surged into the air, rage and precision guiding his form. He twisted midair, body inverted, blade a crimson cyclone.

Then -
A sudden flourish down toward her right shoulder. A strike meant to maim, not kill. A wound to remind.

He landed behind her, both feet solid against the ground, his breath controlled, his presence looming like a storm on the verge of breaking.

 

[Spasa]

Tags: Lord Depravious ​

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Spasa felt their joint memories flood into her mind, fresh and profound, as if they all just occurred. She does not understand the purpose for this meeting, especially if what he told her is true. She can however, feel him shielding his true feelings. Just like a man, that there is no time nor circumstance that warrants him to admit the truth, to himself, or anyone who might deserve it. Lies are repeated enough, so that he might believe in them, encouraging all around him to likewise spew the same, and thus be excused from experiencing honest emotion altogether. Welcome to probably EVERY woman's world.

"Shaidin…" she said as he drew close. The smell of his scorched armor brought back even more ancient memories of the wars they fought side by side. 'Did their history mean NOTHING?!' Her lips pursed under a furrowed brow for just a moment at the thought.

"I AM NOT ANY SITH's PAWN!" She doubled down on her defenses and her motions to evade him grew faster, with ease and she quickened her pace to draw him to react.

Kaestyl is out there somewhere, reborn into a new life, content and complete. What is it about Shaidin that keeps her coming back? The unbelievability regarding what little respect he has for her, and her desire for closure? Is it codependency, or her being a glutton for punishment, personal insecurities? Something seriously kriff'n wrong with her head?

He doesn't want the connection in any form; like something possessed him to suddenly turn on her like he is a rabid dog. Maybe his ire is due to his lust for an old flame, or hussy, someone he couldn't let go of even over the decades? She became his angel, when she was never even near, and Spasa became the ugly chihuahua in his mind? Maybe any of that to a degree? If Spasa cannot have what she desires…fine. Then she can just choose to die, because that is what her loss feels like anyhow; and she will begin again a new life that she makes for herself. As so many memories flood her mind today, there is hope still that little by little she will forget him over the passage of time.

"Nok ti'vorn, vella.” 'I forgive you, darling.'

She disengaged her lightsaber and drawing her hands up under her chin, she froze. The Lightside of the Force welling up inside of her, preparing her…
​

 

[Lord Depravious]

Tag Spasa

The strike found its mark—his lightsaber searing into her shoulder in a flash of heat and light—as Lord Depravious landed behind her. He touched down in silence, his stance resolute, the cords of his body coiled and tensed, a living weapon at rest.

The blow had not taken a limb, nor claimed her life—but it had weakened her. A mistake. One he recognized the instant the hum of his saber faded into the wind. He should have struck true. He should have ended it.

But he hadn't.

He had hesitated.

And he knew why.

Through the Force, he could feel her thoughts unraveling before him—disbelief, sorrow, and that aching, gnawing confusion about the bond that still clung to life between them. She didn't understand. Not fully. She couldn't. How could she?

Of course Shaidin still felt the bond.

Of course he remembered.

There was a time when the fire they shared might have scorched the stars themselves—when their connection could have bent the galaxy. But that same bond, that same love, had become his undoing. His mortality. She was the part of him that still felt pain. Still dreamed. Still hoped.

She was the last fracture in an otherwise unbreakable design.

And in a galaxy he now intended to devour—world by world, soul by soul—he could no longer afford to be mortal.

It had to end.

"Kaestyl is gone... Vyr Lionheart... gone. Osamu. Byria. All of them—ashes on the wind." His voice was steady, yet it carried the sorrow of a thousand years, old as the stars and twice as heavy. "Most by my own hand."

He hadn't wanted this—not truly. If he could have found a way to spare her, to keep her from becoming another scar on the ruin of his past, he would have. But sentiment was a dagger turned inward. And he would bleed no longer.

The Kamari legacy would endure—but not through softness. Not through love.

Through power.

With a breath, he shifted. The flourishing arcs of Form IV, the grace of Ataru, melted from his body like water. In its place came Djem So—grounded, brutal, inevitable. His footing changed, anchoring him in the dust-choked earth beneath their feet.

"Forgive me."

The words hung in the air for only a breath.

Then motion.

The Force surged through him, a conduit of pure speed and strength. Every muscle and tendon strained to the edge of their limit as he launched forward, his saber cleaving through the space between them in a single, decisive stroke—aimed for the back of her neck, swift and clean.

An end, at last.

To her.
To the bond.
To the man he once had been.

 

[Spasa]

Tags: Lord Depravious ~.o
​

He seemed so preoccupied with the end goal as he lowered his lightsaber to strike her down. His own focus and the nexus shall likely stop him from sensing her reaction to the searing pain caused by the strike he had rendered her just a moment before he monologued.

The Ashla covets her chosen, her prize possession.

The Light of the Force moved like the onset of a sudden storm. It flowed towards Spasa from all angles, towards her and into her. It built upward upon itself through and above her form, until it reached high into the sky like a volatile mushroom cloud, building and compounding, expanding and strengthening. Untouched by the nexus…greater in authority than the nexus.

The Light of the Force built-up in a manner of just seconds, before high above her head the Empyrean parted the very firmament of the physical realm. The energy roiled above like an electricity storm, until it suddenly shot down all at once into Spasa, who let it loose through her connection to the Force. She opened her mouth and expelled it suddenly like a shrieking banshee. Surrounding structures of the physical realm rocked on their foundation. The movement of the Force screamed like a passing freight train.

Everything within the immediate area ignited and burned with the purest raw Force Light. She emanated oneness with the Light, a phenomenal feat taught to her by her Jedi Master Jax Thio . Fortified beyond describable magnitude, Spasa's body emanated the Light. She reached out towards Shaidin and focussed upon him every once of the power she controlled.

There would be no place to run to within the immediate grounds. The Light of the Force overcame the surrounding planet, like a palpable field.
​

 

[Lord Depravious]

Tags: Spasa

As Lord Depravious brought his saber down in a brutal Djem So arc, a rupture tore open above them—a jagged wound in reality—and through it, the light side of the Force cascaded downward, not in rays, but in a torrent. It fell upon her, singular and absolute, like a divine avalanche focused entirely on her frame.

The light side itself scorched Depravious. Not metaphorically—literally. It struck him like holy water on cursed flesh. With a snarl, he pulled back, aborting his strike mid-swing as pain surged through him. His skin blistered. His armor sizzled. But worse than the physical pain was the searing purity of it. It burned not just his body—but his soul.

He moved without thinking, instinct and mastery fusing into a single act. One moment he stood before her; the next, he was gone—vanishing into the ruins at Force-speed, his retreat not cowardice, but survival.

The Ashla had shown its wrath.

But Nathema—the dead world beneath their feet—offered him mercy. Not by shielding him from the light, but by slowing it. This planet had long been a wound in the Force, a sterile husk that rejected both light and dark. Here, no divine glow could burn for long. No corruption could thrive unchecked. It was a graveyard for absolutes—and on graveyards, even gods tread carefully.

He ducked behind the broken remains of a wall—once a building, now nothing but a memory. Breathing heavy, he stared at his arm, flesh blackened and peeling where light had touched him. His armor had been eaten away, melted from his frame like wax in flame.

The pain was immense—but pain was a forge. And Depravious was long-accustomed to the anvil.

He closed his eyes. He could never love someone so devout, so entrenched in the dogma of the Ashla. That hope, foolish as it had been, was now dead. And in its place, something new began to form.

Harder.

Like molten iron cooling into blade-steel, his heart calcified—cold, sharp, unyielding.

Time to fight fire with fire.

He reached inward, channeling pain, loss, betrayal—each offered like incense to the Bogan. The dark side did not reject him. It welcomed him with open arms, wrapping around him like a cloak, whispering power, vengeance, precision.

And in his hands, that power began to take shape.

A spear of midnight black.

As dark as Shaidins heart, imperceptible to the naked eye, yet thrumming with malevolence. Not just a weapon—but a curse made manifest. It coalesced in silence, invisible, intangible to all but the most attuned. A weapon of concentrated hatred, honed over years of meditative practice—a perfected assassination strike known to Depravious.

She sought to drown the battlefield in light—to leave no place for him to hide, no shadow in which his wounded heart might linger.

But light spread wide.

Hatred pierces deep.

When he stepped from cover, the spear was already in hand—though no one could see it. Smoke curled from his burned arm, but he walked with purpose, his steps slow, deliberate.

Had this been any other planet, he might already be dead—or worse, reduced to a shattered husk like the tragic relic that was Darth Vader.

But this was Nathema. And here, the Force held its breath.

"Thank you," he said, voice low and hoarse, worn down by years of loss. "For hardening my heart... at last."

Then he moved—not with rage, but with clarity.

A practiced lunge. A throw perfected over decades. His muscles remembered the motion, even as pain wracked them. The invisible spear launched from his hand with terrifying precision, cutting not through air, but through destiny itself.

The Ashla was mighty. But even the brightest star casts shadows.

And in that shadow, Lord Depravious struck.

 

[Spasa]

Tags: Lord Depravious ​

​

Oneness is more than a state of existence in the Force. It is a metamorphosis.

Oneness is…

Comprehension Expansion…​

Explicit Insight…​

Unshakeable Faith…​

Spasa turned towards the man she once knew in a past life, and saw that her current allegiance ate away at his blackened soul. The realization of his disapproval was beyond emotionally satisfying. "Oh is he going to HATE this," she whispered to her present League of spirits hidden in the Light, with a broad and flourishing smile.

One thing he probably could not fathom is that she had existed, and still exists as an entity alive and one with the Ashla… and likewise she also exists within the Netherworld. It is by choice, that she chooses to remain faithful to the worship of Ashla, her Mother…her profoundly Faithful Mother.

Darkness present within the light cannot go unfelt. Darkness also does not fare well to exist long. His dark laden weapon of magick was quite worthy of his ability, and well above that of most. No offense to Shaidin's ingenuity, but the Spear of Midnight Black's expanse was not equal to a direct stream of Light emanating down from Heaven itself. Spasa did sense it, even as swiftly as it had been unleashed and sent in her direction. The lingering weight and palpability of the Light of the Force is nothing to snicker at; it dulled the magnitude of what he attempted to do.

She turned once more to face him, thought of him as having a tantrum on her behalf, and she understood far more of their relationship than moments ago. Spasa allowed her form to be fully engulfed and reclaimed into the Light from which she is woven, and her physical form thus dissipated from this realm within which Shaidin is slave to remain.

In short, unamused by his intent to play games with her emotions, she willingly left him entirely, so that he may brood or whatever he should decide to do apart from her presence. She chose to ignore his antics and refuse to be affected by his hatred and anger. But is this not the way the Sith enjoy to spend their time in Life?

Another day perhaps, or maybe not. It matters not to her at all.
​