B E A C O N
Enemies
Equipment: Twin Sabers, Sith Robes
Allies: [member="Mala Arar"], her pet mutt
Enemies: [member="Darth Mephirium"], [member="Veiere Arenais"], [member="Lord Ajihad"], [member="Alecandria"], [member="Adas James Malgus"], [member="Darth Erebos"], [member="Darth Lykos"], [member="Darth Vulcanus"], [member="Adele Adonai"], [member="Spencer Varanin"], [member="Bethany Kismet"], [member="Rapax"]
Neutral: [member="Reverance"]
Objective: Crush the Pretenders, Kill Graxin Rade, Use the Force
In a galaxy so twisted by conflict, so embroiled with emotions that contradicted each other, that made absolutely no sense to exist with each other, the collective people developed their own systems of beliefs, their own ideologies, and the individuals in these collections created their own personal views on authority or lack thereof, of right and wrong - or the absence of. All of these were created to seek a grounding from the conflict, to separate themselves from the chaos. To make sense out of the irrational was human - organic - instinct, and it was no different for Silara that she were to anchor herself so heavily to a devotion to the dark side without honor or variation. Authority, the necessity of creating a system of laws and rules and the requirement to follow them, was simply an illusion of security to her. Chaos, freedom of choice and thought, was likewise nothing but a futile attempt to rebel against a sometimes necessary fact of life. When a rule, law, or belief assisted her in connecting with the dark side she took it - and the opposite was also true, to choose to break those rules whenever it served the purpose of furthering the growth and strength of the dark side of the force.
But, like every other human and most other organic forms of life, Silara was an irrational human being. Choices driven, sometimes, by emotions that contradict her beliefs. Such was her want - almost a need - to rip the life from Graxin Rade, to snuff out his life in order to fulfill a personal vendetta against him for what she perceived as being what caused her life to spiral apart. And, as with all other beings, it sometimes took a great deal to wake her up from those feelings, to grow a rage inside of her so strong that even those obsessions were consumed by the only thing that was capable of halting the human psyche in its track - and her taboo was swirling all around them. Her master, Darth Mierin, had told her that as long as the Dark Lord lived that she must tolerate the weak Sith that made up the ranks of the One Sith, that she had to allow the pretenders to go about their business, to let their dimwitted goals play out as long as they did not interrupt the grand scheme of spreading the Dark Lord's might across the bloodied stars.
But Darth Mierin was dead - killed in a duel to the death with Silara on the same night she ascended to perceived equality with her former 'betters'. And the Dark Lord? He was dead, murdered by a pretender. For how powerful she'd been told he was, for how he was so supposedly infallible, the Voss Sith Lord had gone down so quickly - his death postponed only by the pathetic and damned weaklings that now grabbed for power on a planet that wasn't even worth the oxygen she breathed. These weaklings that killed themselves through ritual suicide to power a pointless tear in the fabric of realspace and hyperspace, not even understanding how wasteful their combined energies had been spent. The creation of a behemoth that literally bled power like a broken faucet. Sith Lords that tried to combat them with the very emotions that she hungered for, that she devoured wholesale like a lion on the hunt amidst an ocean of antelope. And their reason for this game of charades, of these children masquerading as masters of the dark side? They fought for ridiculous reasons - honor for the sake of honor, power for the sake of power, for dogmatic beliefs that made them no more a Sith than the Jedi they fought against.
And then there was the conscious attempt by these clowns to amplify their negative emotions, to increase their own rage and hate as to fuel their connection with the force - to grow in power without realizing it was only a temporary measure that would burn them out quicker than if they had actually spent the time conspiring with each other against Jedi training instead. Everything they did were mere bastardizations of ancient Sith tradition, and to form this coalition - this order - and call themselves Sith was to spit in the face of their masters, if they even had masters, and to stand against everything that being a Sith meant. They were weak, strong only in numbers and desperation, and yet they saw themselves as grand and powerful as the leader they allowed to die - who, in the end, was just as weak as they were. They did not fight for the dark side of the force, they did not seek a symbiosis with its cold embrace, rather they sought to use it - to try to subjugate it - and wield it as a weapon rather than a companion to feed on and be fed on.
But there was a major flaw in the way they paraded themselves throughout the streets, with how they fought with such desperation. All of it never accounted for an actual Sith Lord, someone actually capable of wielding the dark side in its rawest form who fed on their anger and their hate, who was superior to them in every way - the lion to their sheep. She'd never associated herself with Vornskr before, but today she realized why he was so full of arrogance - or at least part of it. Even a damned child thought he could rival the might of real masters of the force, and these ludicrous imbeciles actually fought to protect him! None of it spoke of survival, none of it spoke of logic and reason, and everything was full of ignorant belief borne out of a weak ideology started by those who knew they would never amount to anything.
To Silara? That was what every last one of these weaklings were, Dark Jedi that called themselves Sith Lords but were nothing of the sort.
And, as her master and master's masters might have done in the past, she realized that they were a threat to the continued existence of Sith everywhere - real Sith, those that followed the Sith code and did not seek to actively undermine that way of thought.
A slim, pale, fist that was wrapped around the hilt of a lightsaber reached out to the left and gestured for her apprentice to stop as she, too, stopped dead in her tracks.
'Do you dare to mock me, Graxin?' Echoed the shriek of her voice through a telepathic shout that spread across the city of Jar'Kai.
'You are no Sith - your allies are not Sith - and I will not allow this perversion to persist!'
Yes, her anger rose, and her hatred for these amateurs was unrivaled by the petulance that they relied so heavily on. If they were shades in the force, a mere tease of the dark side of the force, Vitium was the abyss that swallowed the light in its endless depths. Adas's amplified anger? Erebos's audacious righteous indignation? Vulcanus's life-ending spite and hatred directed at Spencer? While they felt those feelings of negativity, she fed and grew fat on its power - but she did not sink to their level as she did. The dark side of the force coursed through her veins and it was obvious to anyone who could see her pallid flesh. Veins grew dark, as if her blood was replaced with ink, and her presence in the force only grew as she held back no longer. "You cretins dirty the meaning of being a Sith by professing yourselves as one - dregs and outcasts that belong nowhere but the depths of Chaos." She spat, the air growing heavier as the rebellion raged like a mindless beast without a chain to keep it down. "Heretics even among your so-called brothers, you call yourself Sith but you can't even hold a candle to the weakest of your predecessors - so feeble you seek each other out to combine your strengths to fail to even amount to a single of your betters!" She roared, the sky darkening as she began her slow pace toward the heart of the conflict. She paid the volcanic demon no mind, its torrential whirlwind of fire and ash nothing but an afterthought as her concentration grew and her brow furrowed.
"Watch, apprentice - this is what happens to those who masquerade as us." Silara said haughtily, the dark side visibly beginning to manifest and unfurl from beneath her like an ominous black fog. Orange eyes shut as her concentration grew and an aura of unease settled around her - and fear began to seep from her pores like a disease. Though her steps were slow, methodical, and almost planned, the feelings of fear, despair, and hopelessness rolled off of her as the dark fog began to spread from her. It would be a short while longer, still, before the true purpose of this might be realized, but even without the presence of billowing clouds it was unmistakable of just how wrong the manifestation of the dark side of the force in its visible and palpable form was. As a master of the art of Sith sorcery, one that studied from some of the greatest of the current era and even from the holocrons of the ancient Sith - the likes of Naga Sadow and Darth Andeddu - Vitium was no mere trifle, and such a threat was not one to be taken lightly.
Equipment: Twin Sabers, Sith Robes
Allies: [member="Mala Arar"], her pet mutt
Enemies: [member="Darth Mephirium"], [member="Veiere Arenais"], [member="Lord Ajihad"], [member="Alecandria"], [member="Adas James Malgus"], [member="Darth Erebos"], [member="Darth Lykos"], [member="Darth Vulcanus"], [member="Adele Adonai"], [member="Spencer Varanin"], [member="Bethany Kismet"], [member="Rapax"]
Neutral: [member="Reverance"]
Objective: Crush the Pretenders, Kill Graxin Rade, Use the Force
In a galaxy so twisted by conflict, so embroiled with emotions that contradicted each other, that made absolutely no sense to exist with each other, the collective people developed their own systems of beliefs, their own ideologies, and the individuals in these collections created their own personal views on authority or lack thereof, of right and wrong - or the absence of. All of these were created to seek a grounding from the conflict, to separate themselves from the chaos. To make sense out of the irrational was human - organic - instinct, and it was no different for Silara that she were to anchor herself so heavily to a devotion to the dark side without honor or variation. Authority, the necessity of creating a system of laws and rules and the requirement to follow them, was simply an illusion of security to her. Chaos, freedom of choice and thought, was likewise nothing but a futile attempt to rebel against a sometimes necessary fact of life. When a rule, law, or belief assisted her in connecting with the dark side she took it - and the opposite was also true, to choose to break those rules whenever it served the purpose of furthering the growth and strength of the dark side of the force.
But, like every other human and most other organic forms of life, Silara was an irrational human being. Choices driven, sometimes, by emotions that contradict her beliefs. Such was her want - almost a need - to rip the life from Graxin Rade, to snuff out his life in order to fulfill a personal vendetta against him for what she perceived as being what caused her life to spiral apart. And, as with all other beings, it sometimes took a great deal to wake her up from those feelings, to grow a rage inside of her so strong that even those obsessions were consumed by the only thing that was capable of halting the human psyche in its track - and her taboo was swirling all around them. Her master, Darth Mierin, had told her that as long as the Dark Lord lived that she must tolerate the weak Sith that made up the ranks of the One Sith, that she had to allow the pretenders to go about their business, to let their dimwitted goals play out as long as they did not interrupt the grand scheme of spreading the Dark Lord's might across the bloodied stars.
But Darth Mierin was dead - killed in a duel to the death with Silara on the same night she ascended to perceived equality with her former 'betters'. And the Dark Lord? He was dead, murdered by a pretender. For how powerful she'd been told he was, for how he was so supposedly infallible, the Voss Sith Lord had gone down so quickly - his death postponed only by the pathetic and damned weaklings that now grabbed for power on a planet that wasn't even worth the oxygen she breathed. These weaklings that killed themselves through ritual suicide to power a pointless tear in the fabric of realspace and hyperspace, not even understanding how wasteful their combined energies had been spent. The creation of a behemoth that literally bled power like a broken faucet. Sith Lords that tried to combat them with the very emotions that she hungered for, that she devoured wholesale like a lion on the hunt amidst an ocean of antelope. And their reason for this game of charades, of these children masquerading as masters of the dark side? They fought for ridiculous reasons - honor for the sake of honor, power for the sake of power, for dogmatic beliefs that made them no more a Sith than the Jedi they fought against.
And then there was the conscious attempt by these clowns to amplify their negative emotions, to increase their own rage and hate as to fuel their connection with the force - to grow in power without realizing it was only a temporary measure that would burn them out quicker than if they had actually spent the time conspiring with each other against Jedi training instead. Everything they did were mere bastardizations of ancient Sith tradition, and to form this coalition - this order - and call themselves Sith was to spit in the face of their masters, if they even had masters, and to stand against everything that being a Sith meant. They were weak, strong only in numbers and desperation, and yet they saw themselves as grand and powerful as the leader they allowed to die - who, in the end, was just as weak as they were. They did not fight for the dark side of the force, they did not seek a symbiosis with its cold embrace, rather they sought to use it - to try to subjugate it - and wield it as a weapon rather than a companion to feed on and be fed on.
But there was a major flaw in the way they paraded themselves throughout the streets, with how they fought with such desperation. All of it never accounted for an actual Sith Lord, someone actually capable of wielding the dark side in its rawest form who fed on their anger and their hate, who was superior to them in every way - the lion to their sheep. She'd never associated herself with Vornskr before, but today she realized why he was so full of arrogance - or at least part of it. Even a damned child thought he could rival the might of real masters of the force, and these ludicrous imbeciles actually fought to protect him! None of it spoke of survival, none of it spoke of logic and reason, and everything was full of ignorant belief borne out of a weak ideology started by those who knew they would never amount to anything.
To Silara? That was what every last one of these weaklings were, Dark Jedi that called themselves Sith Lords but were nothing of the sort.
And, as her master and master's masters might have done in the past, she realized that they were a threat to the continued existence of Sith everywhere - real Sith, those that followed the Sith code and did not seek to actively undermine that way of thought.
A slim, pale, fist that was wrapped around the hilt of a lightsaber reached out to the left and gestured for her apprentice to stop as she, too, stopped dead in her tracks.
'Do you dare to mock me, Graxin?' Echoed the shriek of her voice through a telepathic shout that spread across the city of Jar'Kai.
'You are no Sith - your allies are not Sith - and I will not allow this perversion to persist!'
Yes, her anger rose, and her hatred for these amateurs was unrivaled by the petulance that they relied so heavily on. If they were shades in the force, a mere tease of the dark side of the force, Vitium was the abyss that swallowed the light in its endless depths. Adas's amplified anger? Erebos's audacious righteous indignation? Vulcanus's life-ending spite and hatred directed at Spencer? While they felt those feelings of negativity, she fed and grew fat on its power - but she did not sink to their level as she did. The dark side of the force coursed through her veins and it was obvious to anyone who could see her pallid flesh. Veins grew dark, as if her blood was replaced with ink, and her presence in the force only grew as she held back no longer. "You cretins dirty the meaning of being a Sith by professing yourselves as one - dregs and outcasts that belong nowhere but the depths of Chaos." She spat, the air growing heavier as the rebellion raged like a mindless beast without a chain to keep it down. "Heretics even among your so-called brothers, you call yourself Sith but you can't even hold a candle to the weakest of your predecessors - so feeble you seek each other out to combine your strengths to fail to even amount to a single of your betters!" She roared, the sky darkening as she began her slow pace toward the heart of the conflict. She paid the volcanic demon no mind, its torrential whirlwind of fire and ash nothing but an afterthought as her concentration grew and her brow furrowed.
"Watch, apprentice - this is what happens to those who masquerade as us." Silara said haughtily, the dark side visibly beginning to manifest and unfurl from beneath her like an ominous black fog. Orange eyes shut as her concentration grew and an aura of unease settled around her - and fear began to seep from her pores like a disease. Though her steps were slow, methodical, and almost planned, the feelings of fear, despair, and hopelessness rolled off of her as the dark fog began to spread from her. It would be a short while longer, still, before the true purpose of this might be realized, but even without the presence of billowing clouds it was unmistakable of just how wrong the manifestation of the dark side of the force in its visible and palpable form was. As a master of the art of Sith sorcery, one that studied from some of the greatest of the current era and even from the holocrons of the ancient Sith - the likes of Naga Sadow and Darth Andeddu - Vitium was no mere trifle, and such a threat was not one to be taken lightly.
