Dominion The Heir of Ruins | (SO Dominion of Alvaria)

[Darth Empyrean]

The Emperor's artificial, cold, metallic stare only narrowed at the Pale Assassin's heir. Dead features contorted, almost cracking as a grimace of anger formed - and with it, the cruel and dangerously low tone of a Sith begrudgingly holding back their infinite fury. It was like a whisper deep in his ear, but he did not move closer to commit his words to memory.​

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"What is yours?", he said through a hiss of yellowed and broken teeth.​

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"All that exists, exists because of my consent. This planet... Yours...", he mocked.​

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"Were it not for the Dark Council, I would wipe it and the last vestiges of the Tsis'kaar from the galaxy forever - and worry no more about the echoes of your independence. They begged me... pleaded with me that I might let this world and its people breath only a few days more. Placated themselves so that I might not end your star here."​

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"... And I allowed them to sway me. Singurarly, you still draw breath because others shamed themselves for your life. You should be honoring me for my generosity, my charity, that I have allowed you to keep what is mine to take."​

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He breathed in silence for a moment, despite the loss of such a need to his corpse form.​

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"I've come to demand your integration. I will even allow you the grace of ruling this world in my stead - but you will not raise your flag in rebellion alongside your Master. You will cease these provocations from the nobility of this world, and you will fall in line. As the old homage goes, Marr..."​

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"Bow or break."​

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He didn't even seem to notice the new arrival - but to assume the Emperor did not notice something near him was a folly many had made in years prior.​

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Darth Malum of House Marr // Darth Nwul​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean | Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Nwul
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Anger.

It didn't belong to her.

She felt it pull through her core like a burning anchor. A tether that caused her blood to boil. Long ivory tresses spilled from the crown of her head like an endless river and moved in an invisible wind. Curling, twisting, and waving past her waist from a sudden call. Her head raised from the Jutrand sunset but she could feel the difference in where she stood. On the precipice of a doorway.

If Srina happened to look down—The darkness would swallow her whole.

But if she remained steadfast? The path forward was crossed with a void so vast that it would be easy to get lost in. Save, the fact that she knew her door. This was a path she had traversed through the cosmos for almost half a decade. From the shadow that Darth Empyrean created in realspace, she found purchase and pulled herself through. First, her hand wrapped around his shoulder from behind. The rest of her materialized as if she were made of liquid onyx, from the absence of light, and her presence spilled out with power so thick that it would be like trying to breathe through liquid. It would be uncomfortable for such "air" to go down—But the Sith in attendance would adjust.

She would not be the first authoritative individual, steeped in the dark, that many of them had met. They were all strong, determined, and quite often super-powered beings. It was fact and nothing new. Srina did not amplify her connection to the Force nor did she leave it on display. The young wife of the Corpse King had simply stopped hiding since his progeny had been safely delivered. What returned to his side, his hand, was akin to a barely contained planetary storm. Morality had abandoned her—And all that remained was purity in the force of her gale.

It was a strange sight.

She was diminutive. Slight of frame. Without blemish, scar, or any other marker that made her anything less than perfect as fresh-fallen snow. Beautiful to the point where it almost hurt to look too long. Like staring into the sun without protective lenses. Her husband was the fuel that nightmares were born of. Mechanical eyes. Pallid skin— decrepit on the surface. They did not belong in the same frame…And yet they did. Long black fabric pulled across the floor while she stepped fully out from behind Empyrean.

Her fingers slid from his shoulder and found his hand at the tail end of his ultimatum.

He was being quite magnanimous. "I felt…That you had need of me, my love…", she murmured possessively through pale primrose lips. Even her voice seemed to have been wrapped in something alluring, regardless, of the glacier tone she employed. Mysterious for what she did not say—For the suddenness of her arrival. Her eyes turned toward familiar and unfamiliar faces with a gaze that rolled over their minds like the ocean moving over a seashell. Filling them up. Emptying them out.

As if she could take everything from them without doing anything at all.

She was certain, however, that Empyrean was being quite reasonable in his demands. Whether or not the other realized it was something entirely different. She had expected resistance to be met with a nod for compliance…A nod that would leave this world little more than ash and stale wind.

That it still stood?

Progress.

 

[Adeline Noctua]

Objective: II
Tag: Darth Strosius

The slower recovery had been a ploy, as he had tightly gripped onto her face she had let out a force scream within the area akin to the ferocity of a banshee. Whether or not Alisteri had managed to crush her elbow, the woman would spring forward off her feet like an enraged bull in an attempt to tackle him down yet again while he was either injured or stunned by the scream.

If this plan was indeed a success and she was indeed back on top of the man, using her enraged strength she would try to punch his mask into face, next trying to stab her metallic claws right under his ribcage to start eating his own blood, the claws functioning as siphon to feed its deranged wearer even in the middle of combat.


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[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Darkness Entombed
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Adeline Noctua

The scream seemed to shoot right through him like a blaster bolt, causing him to stumble back and then fall to the ground both from her tackle and from being caught off-guard while in the middle of trying to break her elbow. The hand that had been gripping her helmet was still intact but it was twitching and spasming from being so close to the source of the scream, making it useless for the few precious moments before he hit the ground with Adeline on top of him.

Before Alisteri could bring his injured hand to bear her fist smashed into his mask and drew forth a cry of both pain and rage from the Sith as he threw his broken wrist against her helmet with enough force to break the rest of that hand in a sickening crack. One eye could still see out of the now cracked visor, the other being invaded by the glass and metal of the mask, but it was enough for him to aim properly.

His uninjured hand shot out to just barely catch the claws as they pierced into his chest plate and prevent them from sinking into his abdomen beneath the armor. The masked man clutched her clawed fingers in a tight grasp and soon a flurry of lightning escaped from around his fingers while his injured hand kept bashing into her helmeted head.

 

[Adeline Noctua]

Objective: II
Tag: Darth Strosius

It felt satisfying to crush his face in, and she was just about to go in for one more finishing slam before her focus was cut short by his broken hand bashing against her own face. Knocking her head back a bit as a bit of her own blood leaked out from her helm, dripping down onto his mask.

Small and strange secretions of an unknown black substance, intertwined with the blood of this woman as if it was indeed just part of her own crimson.

Her fist raises again in a fit of rage, yet once again she was stopped by a counter attack. The surge of lightning dancing through her plate armor as the current jumped between the both of them, with the gel inside her gear protecting Adeline from being fully roasted... In almost every spot but her face. The burning causing his attacker to roll off of him in a hurry, the singing of her face damaging the woman a lot more than just on the surface.

Stumbling back off the ground onto her two feet, one hand tries to feel at her face while the other held... Nothing?

With the chaos going on around the two, and her distance away from him, Keres would start to absorb the nexus. Making him either surrender and let her consume the nexus, or be forced into another attack that she was ready for.


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[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Darkness Entombed
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Adeline Noctua

Alisteri barely noticed the strange substance that seemed to be leaking from the armor, far too busy bashing and zapping Adeline as he frantically tried to throw her off. His injured hand was beyond useless, more of a bleeding stump now than anything else, but aside from that and one eye being destroyed for the moment he was good enough. He could still fight and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Thankfully the lightning was enough to force her off after it had traveled up her armor, albeit he could feel his hand and arm stinging from where it had lashed back at him. He scrambled to his feet as she did, one arm ending in a bloody stump and the other singed and smoking even as lighting still crackled in the fingertips of his remaining hand. His eye narrowed when she didn't immediately leap upon him again, his gaze snapping to her outstretched hand that was seemingly doing nothing at all.

Then, he felt it. The nexus noticeably quivered in the Force, as if prodded by something sharp. He could feel it start to weaken ever so slightly and his eye widened at the realization. "Where the feth did you learn how to do that?!" Drawing power from a nexus was one thing but disrupting and draining directly from it? That was new. And very very dangerous the longer that it went on.

The short distance meant that he would be forced to approach and give her the advantage of defending, a reality that Adeline herself was no doubt fully aware of and intending to make usage of. But of course he could hardly just stand by and let her grow in power, especially at the expense of the nexus that he needed for the artifacts and relics. So he had to act quickly and decisively.

Alisteri leapt into the air and drew his lightsaber into his relatively intact hand with a simple flick of the wrist, igniting the red blade as he came down on his opponent from above. He swung down to try and sever the outstretched arm at the elbow but his other arm wasn't idle. The bloodied stump was thrust out before him and a wave in the Force was pushed forward as if trying to slam the other Sangnir back into the ground.

 

[Adeline Noctua]

Objective: II
Tag: Darth Strosius

It was an act that held the same energy as the many greats that once devoured the very force itself, and here she was... A fledgling devourer starting to blossom, Alisteri would get to see it right before his very eye.

One thing that couldn't be seen was her spear of midnight black, Adeline getting an impish grin under her scarred helm as with both hands now she committed to a powerful thrust right as he fell right down to the woman.

Whether or not the man would get impaled by pure energy, Adeline would indeed be disrupted from her feeding for now as the force push knocked her down.

With her hunger getting impatient, and the fires of her rage starting to smolder into embers, it was clear that she was worn down for now.

With a sapped gaze her ruby eyes wander over to where he was, hoping he was either dead by now or too broken to fight anymore.

And with her forces slowly closing in, victory was still firmly in the grasp of the fresh Eternalist commander. Yet, nothing had absolutes, Keres igniting her saber just in case.


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[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Darkness Entombed
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Adeline Noctua

Alisteri could almost taste victory as his lightsaber came within centimeters of Adeline's raised arms, so close to having his chance to end their little duel on his terms. But all that he could taste was his own blood as some unseen force impaled him straight through his stomach without warning. His eye widened and a cough wormed its way out of his crushed lips as he was thrown back away from the other Sangnir in a crumpled heap.

He weakly squirmed on the ground for a moment, blood seeping from a new wound that went straight through his abdomen and nearly had him in half. Shattered breaths escaped him as his eye spotted something up above, sitting high in orbit above the world that he hadn't noticed until being flat on his back now. The Mors Mons, Empyrean was here. Had he been would have let loose a slew of curses as he sat up with a wince, putting pressure on the gaping wound in his stomach with his injured arm.

The masked man took another breath and cast a glare at Adeline, standing triumphant across the way. Then he noticed that the defenses and defenders were finally being overrun. The troopers were being pushed back and were limping as they did so, the Assassins and Lorekeepers that had went to stave the tide of undead now wounded and with far less numbers than when the battle had began. The situation was untenable.

"Feth this." He'd just have to hope that the artifacts and relics were charged enough.

His mostly intact hand moved to the somewhat intact side of his mask to tap on the commlink there and send out a signal across the Tsis'Kaar network. Without warning a Shikkar corvette dove down from its hiding place in orbit, its cannons letting off strafing fire around the crater as it flew dangerously close to the surface. A handful of shuttles shot out of its small hangar bay and rushed down to the crater where the troopers and Sith were quick to retreat to and enter. The relics and artifacts were the first to be pulled into the shuttles and more than one trooper fell trying to give them covering fire until the shuttles carrying them had left the ground.

Alisteri himself struggled to his feet and hacked up a bit of blood into his crushed mask from the effort as he glared at Adeline. "You've won this one, but the Sith haven't lost yet." With a cry of pain he leapt into the air as a shuttle rose, landing on top of the small ship and clutching onto it as it sped back up to land in the corvette. The moment that the shuttles were onboard once more the corvette spun around, still firing off into the undead and their allies, before shooting off into hyperspace right above the ground.

 

[Adeline Noctua]

Objective: II
Tag: Darth Strosius

As they fled from the battle, troops under the Eternalist banner would cut down any who couldn't make it quick enough, with no mercy being given just as ordered by their commander.

Said commander watched as he fled, too worn down to bother getting at the relics. In truth, the relics and even Alisteri himself were not of her concern. She was here for one thing and one thing only, to gorge herself on the dark side energy that had now been amplified by the conflict and death. The air rank with corruption she would take off her helmet to give Alisteri a wide grin, her face suffering from electrical burns in sections.

Cleaning off some dried blood from her lips she would take a holocommunicator offered by one of her troops, the ambitious darth reporting in her status to the higher ups of the Eternalist forces taking part in stomping out this planet.

"This is lady Keres reporting in, majority of hostile forces have been pushed from the ritual site. Keep an eye out for a corvette if you would, it is carrying those who managed to flee along with artifacts."

With her simple report over, Adeline powers down the device, dropping her scarred helmet next to her as she got on her knees. Hungering eyes gazing at the nexus before her as it surged with foulness, as the woman's vampiric body started to heal she would resume devouring this potent nexus... The start of a fledgling conqueror.




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[Darth Nwul]

Nwul slowed to a stop as he stood off to the side, just within earshot but not drawing any closer. The titanic presence before him had once upon a time seeped into his mind and memories, he knew this person even if he'd never met them before. Empyrean, the Dead God, one of the self-proclaimed Sith'ari of this age. Nwul's eyes narrowed. His power alone was enough to make that tile quite irrefutable. His presence was like a great beast hiding beneath a dark sheet of water. The tendrils and fangs were only a breath away.

Nwul's lip twitched when he heard the Emperor of 'true' Sithspace speak. Declaring that all that exists existed with his consent. A bold claim. But one he could back up with power. Such was the way of the Dark Side. As long as no one could refute him, he was infallible. Even so, Nwul's distaste for his words was something he would have to reflect on. His eyes narrowed and he broke into a smile, setting aside his feelings for the old games of the sith, the halmarks of failure, the wanton domination that did not preclude uplifting.

So the Dead God was guilty of it too, then?

Just as Nwul was about to ascend the steps a shadow formed at the Emperor's side, a woman clad in shadow slipped out of it, her ethereal form becoming physical. Such power. She turned to look at him and he looked back at her. While her presence was like an ocean crashing into him, he could only drink it in. The force-wound in his abdomen had grown larger and stabilized during his ascent to the name Nwul, it fed him and fed upon the dark side around him. He stood still, watching the interaction with interest but said nothing. A smile coiling on his face. His eyes, golden, and untainted by the red of sith rage, gleamed in the dark.

Yet it was what was behind those eyes that would give some pause, there was a wrongness behind them, as if thousands of twisting threads of madness had coiled themselves together in a scaffold, feigning sanity. A lurking behemoth, a leviathan, an eldritch horror, an all consuming monster lingered behind those eyes, trapped in the body of a man. He wondered for a moment at why the Dark Side had sent him here, curiosity blooming in his mind. He thought about the vision and looked at the young man.

Very well then...

He swept both hands to the sides and offered an inclination at the waist, his unblinking eyes fixed on the royal pair standing above him and looming over the boy. "God of the Dead, Emperor of Sith Space, Lord of all he Sees, Empyrean, I greet you, Dark Lord..." He intoned respectfully, a smile in his voice regardless, his eyes twinkled, "I pay homage to the great one that stands at his side as well," He offered, his memories consumed from others not including the identity of the woman. He brought both hands to his heart. "I am Nwul, Steward of the Dark Side. It's servant and messenger."

He stood up straight and did not give the boy so much of a glance, hoping that he would recognize a reprieve when he was given one. "Forgive my insolence, Dark Majesty, but visions in the dark sent me here to seek out that young man and offer him my blessing as Kissai."

Nwul smiled pleasantly, standing up straight and steepling his fingers in front of his chest as a priest would, not letting an ounce of his force presence-save for the force wound that he could not control-out into the air. Now, what will you say, Emperor? He thought to himself.

Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Empyrean Srina Talon

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective 3: The Heir to the First One

"I shall offer the Dark Council thanks then," Malum spoke freeing his hands, offering both in the air, his palms open, "Would they prefer fruit or flowers?" His fear was rimmed behind his eyes, hidden, but a present reminder of the feelings which the Sith Emperor could draw from all. From the lowliest of serfs who would stare up to the sky and see the giantess Mors Mon, hovering before them... before annihilating them all. To his peers, Darth Carnifex had been exiled to the Old Worlds, while his own mistress, Darth Ophidia, what could this rebellion be, but a last chance, the last opportunity to strangle the proverbial baby in the cradle.

They had evidently failed at that if Darth Empyrean was here now.

It was a risk speaking like this, perhaps not even simply a risk, it was begging for death, and though death might be solace, and life the enemy, Malum could not claim to not be fond of his. He had long since accepted the possibility of death, the certainty of his mortality, such was the implicit acceptance one would always have to accept when they went fully into battle. It was the risk, which made greatness and glory all the more sweet, yet though being cut down by the Emperor himself might be a noble death.

Why die at all?

"But above all, your Imperial Majesty, I give you my thanks for your... generosity..." Malum spoke, bowing his head in the most limited form of submission, speaking the word as if it was foreign as if he himself was clearly doubtful if it could be called as such, "Yet, we Marrs have our pride, I cannot simply accept the generosity of the Imperium, it would not be right of me, nor would it be a sacrifice I would wish for you to bear," theatrical, and over the top, the song and dance of sovereign and subject, all knew it was forgery, all smoke and mirrors, but it was what was expected still.

But he would not complain, not deviate from the course, for after all, he had been trained since birth for this performance, and as he had whispered with Alisteri, in days past of what would come next.

It might just save them both.

"You commanded my presence when I first took my apprenticeship with my Mistress, and then later on I came to you as well," Malum's head came up, his red eyes on the level with that of the mechanical ones opposite him, "You wished for me to turn upon her, to have my true loyalties with you, and it is thus, that I offer."

It had been a decision that had been as pregnant as it had been divisive. Malum had not forgotten the threat to his family, and Alisteri had his own reasons to despise the Corpse King. Yet, for their own reasons, they had reached this point, to draw Empyrean here, far from the eyes of their Mistress, to make a deal, and to create the tool that would prove their use.

"None could deny that you could strike me down here and now, destroy the Guard behind me, hunt down Alisteri and choke the life out of him as well. Yet that would only be partial victories, would they not?" He stepped forward, placing his arms out forth as the orators of old, "You do not know where my Mistress is, even if you should find out, our deaths here will convince her to bask in her shadows and disappear. A foe as formidable as she is secretive, an enemy whom not even the Tsis'Kaar know where she is at a given moment, an adversary who will have learned by now, that the inroads of conventional warfare, is not her path of course." His eye flicked to the figure still in the exterior of their meeting place, who simply continued to watch in curiosity, he had not yet designated himself a threat, as he simply listened, "There are Tsis'Kaar elements across the Imperium, my Emperor, I know this, Alisteri knows this, you might break their fleets, destroy their armies, it shall not break them, I fear, nothing will. They as the water spilt across the soil, shall not simply disappear, they shall burrow themselves deep into the earth, and from their survival grow in strength, thorns that will through a thousand cuts, never give this Imperium peace."

The silence spoke volumes, as his booming voice broke across the clearing, he had his chance to speak, and so all that he had prepared, but more, all that seemed right to say, spilt out from him.

"I say none of this out of threat, none of this out of pride or confidence, I say this only out of what you wished of me," His gaze returned fully to that of Darth Empyrean, "We, Alisteri and I, know where our mistress is, we know where each and every Tsis'Kaar resource is held, across every system, across every planet. We..." Malum stopped, a moment of doubt, of hesitation, loyalty peering through the veil, "We... even know how to kill our Mistress, as the Sith of old demanded, for the apprentices to overtake their master."

Another silence across the clearing, the Guard behind him stood still, as loyal and as disciplined as they were made to be, yet their unease could be felt by anyone.

"The Tsis'Kaar will never bend, they will never be broken, yet without the head of the snake, they will look to her heirs." It was the key to his proposal, survival was not simply enough for those of pride and ambition, those who still cared for loyalty and creed, but for survival and advancement. It might just be enough.

The thanks were sincere, without Empyrean's willingness to speak, it would have all been for nought, and as before his very eyes, the Empress herself seemed to flicker into existence, whispering words into the Emperor's ear, he felt he knew where his thanks should truly lie.

It was when the intruder to this meeting, an unplanned addition, to what was already an unplanned audience, spoke that Malum broke out of his stupor, his speech of grand movements, and even grander words, failure was always an unbidden fear, but as he spoke he had led the fear to the back of his mind. Yet now still, even as he was given a reprieve from speaking, the very real chance, that this would all be for nothing, clawed back to the fore. What would he do if Darth Empyrean simply threw the offer aside? As many a tyrant, so easily assured of their own strength? But no... he had already offered mercy, in a sense, he was safe... safe but not secure.

His eyes noted both husband and wife, it was clear what would happen if he tried to end them both, yet there was always a chance. A chance in which he could break the Empire at the fore, for his Mistress, a chance for him to maintain loyalty to the woman that had given him so much strength... that he had sworn his loyalty to.

Yet had he not sworn his loyalty to this Emperor as well? Had he not lived his life believing one day he would serve Darth Carnifex? Loyalty... loyalty.

A word indeed.

The plan tasted of ash and blood, he would lose.

Had he not already lost, so many times?

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the words of the stranger, it was the last of the words that indeed brought him back into focus.

Kissai.

Could it be?

"Your Imperial Majesty, might this be one of the Sepruchal?" A prize dangled in front of him, a prize for which there perhaps was no equal, "We had discussed long ago, for I to ascend, Champion of the Lord of Duty. You offer me now for I to bow or break, and though my forefather once said he would never again kneel, I have already knelt once before. I am willing again. Will this, be my time to ascend?"

Ascend in stature, beyond all others, the Heir of Marr in blood and power.

The amulet burned deeply on his chest, as excited as he was.

Darth Empyrean Srina Talon Darth Nwul

 

[Darth Empyrean]

As guessed, the impudence of the Tyrant had only grown as his enemies fell - planet by planet, voice by voice. Not only a year prior Empyrean had ordered the death of every Sith in the galaxy not under his command, and his will was done. Thousand died, their cache of knowledge and artifacts pulled back into the Order once more - and all those who survived his great cleansing now hid, without power, without strength, and without the spines to face him any longer.​

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He was assured in his decision to find and kill Darth Ophidia himself - that with her death by his hand, all would be finalized in his grand work to domineer the Sith in its totality, to truly and finally ascend with no equals in any realm. His face sneered and twisted at the thought, that such blood shed could create the security he demanded by strength alone.​

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But Malum was also right in his summary of the situation. Without a direct and tactical strike at the core of the issue, the Tsis'kaar would prove to be a devastatingly rebellious entity for decades to come. Worse, they may even strike where he was vulnerable - if the Pale Assassin had gleamed the information. His better council, the Dark Council in part, but mostly Srina Talon had guided his fury and strength to a more surgical precision.​

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To not let the trappings of power force him into a position where upon he would need to exert it for years to come, stifling his expansion and efforts into the Core. Their guidance kept Malum and Alisteri alive, their guidance had stayed his hand where upon he would have already ripped and tore at the life strands that kept these beings within the galaxy. The Emperor wanted blood, but the Empress kept him placated, for now.​

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"I've killed for less hubris, Heir of Marr.", Empyrean said with a slow and dangerous drawl. Despite the threat, Malum still stood - Empyrean had killed for less, more often than not, but not now. His gaze briefly rested upon Darth Nwul as he approached, then back to Srina Talon before he looked upon Malum once more.​

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"I've offered you no boons, and I've asked for no priests. The Corpse Church awaits on the Mors Mon... Whoever this is, I can not say.", he said with a frown.​

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"I need assurances - that you don't simply hide away in a rat hole with your soon to executed Mother.", he said, obviously referencing Ophidia instead of his actual family, though the double entrende of its implications was another threat.​

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"While I can demand your ascent from the Sepulchral, what is stopping you from simply betraying the Empire? Am I to simply trust you?"​

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Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean | Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Nwul
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It was not the inherent nature of a fanatic that she first noted about the Sith that referred to himself as Darth Nwul before dancing titillating titles before their eyes. Steward of the Darkside, indeed. Srina never bothered with introductions unless directly asked or decorum demanded. Her name, rank, title, and likely what she ate for breakfast that morning (rumored to be small children, or worse) was often a topic of discussion on Jutrand. There were times when the gossip became so inventive that she merely leaned back in her chair, sardonically curious, to see what she had done in a particular tall tale.

It amused her…But she had very few expectations of privacy. The Sepulcher had oft ensured that.

Paying homage, groveling, scraping…Srina did not know what to make of this Kissai and thusly a spiritual leader. She knew a great deal about the Sith priests of old but she felt neither moved nor blessed to have one in her presence. Quiet eyes observed. Waiting, to see what form of lie would eventually break through the blissful exterior of a loyal servant. That was what the Kissai were, at heart, were they not?

Servants.

Whom did this one serve? It was said that they were loyal, capable, and adaptable but this one was obviously different. He was not the first she had crossed with a force-wound to feed. She could feel it in the same way one might see something briefly in their peripheral vision. His name…Even his name was heretical. Nwul. Peace. It was either ironic or a less-than-clever bit of derisive opportunism.

Light fingers curled around that of her beloved while she continued to evaluate this so-called priest with a stare that pierced coldly to bone. Srina, was not cruel. She was practical.

Pomp and circumstance was…wholly unnecessary.

"Well met, Steward. If you've come to speak with Lord Malum or the Emperor...", she trailed off softly, lighter than air, though he would have no trouble hearing her. "You will need to wait your turn."

Wrangling in the Sith Order often left her feeling like she'd become a warden for thousands of mischievous younglings. Ever eager, headstrong, and without any sense of self-preservation whatsoever. Malum of House Marr was the reason Darth Empyrean had left her for so long. Whether or not he wanted it to be, his life, the lives of his people, all tilted in the balance for his mere association with his serpent mother. That was the consequence for making weak, blind bargains.

The Sith Empress thought less of Malum when he bowed.

It was the intelligent response, were it not fabricated, and part of the show. Srina was often ill-equipped to emotionally connect with others but there were certain markers that always let her read others in a way that was almost a science. She could be especially accurate when someone was being disingenuous. This…This was a play on ego. To press for understanding, to make himself seem non-threatening, a giving soul, full of promise. Potential. He was…Echoing the training of his master which was…

A mistake.

Srina could see and feel the tactics of Ophidia slipping through his exterior. Not directly, no. There were no shadows to hide his secrets. Just…Pretty words. The white-haired woman looked up at her husband and reached toward his weathered face to guide his metallic gaze back toward her. Her touch was deliberate. Almost, kind. Unafraid of the cruelty behind the curtain, seemingly, immune to any thoughts that the Corpse King could kill anyone in the room with a breath. "Empyrean, meldanya, I believe that Malum is a lost soul with a master that has filled his head with nonsense…"

"…And then disappeared. She has abandoned him. Abandoned them all."

And so many other Tsis'Kaar in favor of power, secrets, or simply playing a game so long that her apprentices would be extinct before anything came to fruition. It was the Sith way, perhaps, but it did nothing to help her progeny in the interim. Malum could not help his forked tongue. His wavering loyalty. Whether or not the rest of her followers proved to be an issue was of little consequence to the Sith Empress. She was of Eshan. A daughter of the moon, and therefore, loved combat.

She thrived in it. On war—And conquered without question.

What most failed to calculate was that at the end of the day, they were never simply rebelling against Empyrean or his rule. She would always be at his side. A dyad, true, and burning bright. It was their combined strength that would surprise them. Even Darth Carnifex respected her ability to move mountains and wage wars to the likes that none in this Order had ever seen. She would go to war if provoked.

Moreover, she would win.

"Malum of House Marr…", she continued on, slowly, pulling away from her husband. In the blink of an eye, she stood before the young man in question. A full head shorter. Close enough, that she could reach out with two delicate fingers and tilt his chin up. High. "Sith, especially, those with designs on elevation to the Sepulcher are proud. You claim to have that pride. Show it. Know that we are not here to be sold a beautiful lie of peace but to bring about progress versus inevitable decline. Speak, plainly. You needn't add sugar to poison wine."

"It's still poison—no matter how sweet."

The more he relied on theatrics to placate through stroking egos the closer he would find himself to the grave. Even if mercy had temporarily been achieved. "Loyalty…I find is earned. Not commanded nor manufactured. I can have your obedience through fear if I wish it in an instant…But your loyalty?"

"That is another matter entirely."

The seemingly young woman released him and let her hand fall back to her side while examining his features. Golden orbs, flecked with silver, seemed to be gauging all that he was behind what he was willing to present. Pinning him where he stood by the marrow of his bones. "Loyalty isn't grey. It's black and white. You're either completely loyal—Or not at all. Anything you say now is either a lie or a conflict of interest…The only true test is an expression of absolute fidelity in the face of ruin and despair."

Had Malum of Marr reached that point yet? No. Not at all. Still scheming one way or the other.

"You cannot trust him now, beloved. I propose that we allow him the chance to prove himself. To serve you and the Empire rather than his own ambition. If he succeeds…Grant his wish. Bless him with governing an additional sector and show him that true loyalty can be as forgiving as it can be rewarding."

Srina raised her head and ensured that Malum could see the severity of her expression. While her every movement was delicate, as if she were made of glass, there was a sharpness that would cut deeper than any knife. The Echani warrior was not unkind nor without the presence of mind to understand his value. She simply didn't see the need to play this game any longer. He couldn't serve two masters.

Period.

"Should he fail…I will take his heart myself."

______________________________________________________

______________________________________________________​

 

[Darth Nwul]

The Steward cocked his head to the right, like a bird examining prey, before slumping into something similar to a pout. First the young man, then the Tyrant. He was being ignored. Dismissed so off-handedly when he'd made sure to give a proper and polite greeting! He let out a breath that could have almost been misinterpereted as a sigh before regaining his amused smile. He crossed his arms behind his back and stood nearby, staring flatly at those gathered. Only when one of them, Srina Talon , acknowledged him, her eyes trying to pierce through his nature.

He returned her stare with a smile, locking eyes with her. Behind his gaze, a vast, eldritch wrongness, an ethereal madness coiled together like threads by a being that did not belong in this world. As if an old god had cobbled together bricks of insanity into a structure that passed itself off as sane. Something utterly wrong and unnatural and filled with... joy? He broke into a toothy smile, inclining his head but never breaking his eye contact, watching her every move.

"Then I will be patient," He conceded.

Nwul seemed to show little interest in Empyreans tyrannical words, his language inspiring little in the way of loyalty or respect. Domination was a tool, not a way of life, and the way that the Dark Lord had composed himself left a sour taste in Nwul's mouth. Even so, he was far too weak to let his opinions be known. The dark side had chosen him as a messenger and speaker, not as it's warrior or agent. Nwul had no delusions of becoming a sith'ari, but...

Whispers played through Nwul's mind. The force wound in his abdomen aching again. The air around him rippled for a moment, like a heat haze, as the temperature rose. He did his best to keep his expression steady, that easy smile unfazed, as the pain wracked him.

Then the woman spoke, his eyes turned towards her. Far more reasonable words came from her, most importantly was the statement that Loyalty was earned. Nwul felt the pain in his abdomen subside as he watched her from afar, only stopping to turn his gaze on the others. He did not draw any closer, but instead pulled back a bit further to stand plainly at the foot of the stairs. From the sounds of it, the Tyrant and his Queen were intending to test the young man.

Curiosity bloomed, what lengths would Malum go to? He had to know. But he had to be careful, this was not a place where he could play his games without consequence. He would have to pick and choose his targets carefully. For now, he would stand and pray for Malum, waiting for what came next.

Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Empyrean Srina Talon

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective 3: The Heir to the First One

Well, this could have gone better.

Though admittedly it could have gone so much worse as well.

Those were the panicked, and rapid thoughts going through Malum's mind as he stared into the eyes of perhaps one of the most beautiful women he had ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. Golden orbs, flecked with silver, paired well with the platinum locks which framed her face, while the distance between them had narrowed so far that he was certain the audible gulp, that he let out was more than audible for her ears. The drying of his mouth and lips did not help matters, was he nervous? Certainly. Who would not be nervous when a woman either was so extremely fast, that it seemed she teleported in front of you... or indeed had actually teleported in front of you, and was extremely disconcerting.

There were witnesses, his Guard behind him, he could simply feel the anxiety of Custos and Venerandus behind him, while there was still the other visitor, the Kissai, who to Malum's momentary disappointment was revealed to be not the one who would enable his accession.

Then, of course, the most worrisome figure, the one which was enough for him to break his gaze with Empress Srina, to look to her husband, the Emperor who looked on cooly.

Of course, despite his very failing attempts to calm down with this faux characterisation of events, it was not the simple presence of the Empress near his person which had so galvanised him into panic.

No.

It was the fact that said Empress currently had her hand gripped firmly around his chin, with such speed, with such precision, and accuracy, that he had not even had a moment to respond.

Yet, what response really was there? He had considered attacking them both, the Empress and Emperor, even the priest, if he had chosen to become more involved than his current spectator status, but as soon as the thought had come, it had disappeared. Folly, pure folly it would have been.

However, it would have been nice to know that he at least would have had the speed to bring forth his lightsabers.

Of course, this tidal wave of nerves could only get worse, as the Empress opened her mouth, streaming forth words that filled him with both unease and surprisingly... anger. She made judgements, judgements without righteousness or clarity, though he said so in the anger that filled him, blinding him to the fact that truth did flow from her lips. Yet, who was she to break the game they played? Empyrean demanded performance, while Srina, sincerity. The Emperor demanded a veil, the Empress, clarity. They both demanded loyalty.

A moment of pause.

They worked well together, he supposed.

One goal, two directions.

It only made his job far more difficult though. An idle thought, wandered by his brow, he wondered how Alisteri was doing, no doubt he was having an easier time than this.

Malum breathed out softly, hoping that the nervous airs would not reach the Empress, yet stilling his body, as he quickly worked out what needed to be done.

"You ask of me for plain words, I shall deliver, yet know I do so only with your permission, and without intention to cause offence," Malum spoke softly, his eyes flicking towards the figure to the rear, a final attempt to make clear to Darth Empyrean, that the honour owed to him, was not being impugned, before turning back to Srina, "You say of loyalty that it be something that is, or is not. Yet, that is not the case at all. Loyalty is different, loyalty is within degrees, perhaps not grey as you would call it, but of the different colours of the whole spectrum. I am loyal to my family, loyal to my friends, loyal to my men, loyal to the Empire, though you might doubt that, that loyalty is different because it cannot be simply white, or simply black, or indeed, grey."

He smiled a smile filled with the pride and arrogance that he was known for, a smile which did not quite reach his eyes, "And how can one accept loyalty in such a way? For a ruler who holds the loyalty of so many, those who believe him Sith'ari, those who proclaim him Emperor, those who simply hear the words Darth Empyrean and serve... those who call him husband," A risk, a very dangerous risk, one which he could be punished dearly for, yet with his chin still held firmly by her hand, for some reason... now, he decided to make his rebellion known, "So different, for their own reasons, beliefs, and ideologies, an action made from the very top, echoing down the hierarchy, and changing their calculus, in that way, it would be so simple to wish for allegiance to be held to those simply loyal or disloyal. Especially, when our Emperor is so complex himself, how many faces of power exist within just himself," The closest he would even consider referencing the Worm Emperor, "It would be simple, but it would not be right. You wish for devotion then, belief beyond question, well... I am afraid to say that even if I could offer you that, you would not accept it," A twinkle emerged from his eye, finally drawing forth the confidence that had for a time wilted away, "For one as high as you, cannot accept devotion truly, for one cannot even accept devotion from themselves, you cannot be fully trusting of even those close to you," His smile widened, yet, the look in his eye seemed to waver, saddened, "For who could bring upon your greatest downfall, other than one you allowed within your walls?"

"You wish for me to prove my loyalty, and it is a request which is reasonable. So, I shall say it plainly among those gathered here today." He looked to both Empyrean and the Kissai, before turning back to stare squarely at his momentary captor, eyes blazing with emotion, "I shall leave myself with no recourse, no other option but service to the Empire."

"I shall slay the Tsis'Kaar Sith'ari."

Darth Empyrean Srina Talon Darth Nwul

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean was silent for a moment when Malum was done speaking, his face placid and dead - fitting for the Corpse Lord. Only at the small shift of his metal eyes in their bony beds did his expression shift. His face contorted, sneered, and his essence fled from him in waves. The massive wound on his side began to fall black miasma, a fog that sucked life from its very core and left nothing but the void in its wake.​

​

It did not form an arm as it usually did, being the Dark Side manifest to visible sight, but rather rolled over the entire floor - chilling their skin like ice even through skin. Srina, solely among them, might find the cold comforting - but for the rest, it was death's talons piercing boot leather to reach their forms. His voice rasped like venom;​

​

"The Empress, your Empress, demanded plain words - and you go on a rant explaining why she is wrong?", he said, yelling the last word just short of a volume that would constitute force enhanced, though there was a clear inclination all his words were backed by the Force, given his current state.​

​

"You insult me, you bandy with words, you even dare to hint she may betray me?", the last point wasn't entirely true, but what was a Sith if not a little overzealous in their interpretations. His physical hand tightened, like a belt garroting a neck it strained at the bindings of his skin.​

​

"Is this your attempt at being a Lord, Heir of Marr? Is this all the intelligence you've built in our academies? Shall I burn them down when I'm finished killing you - so that they might be rebuilt and not create another failure like this?", he spat, his form nearing the young man.​

​

The only mistake Malum likely made in this moment, was forgetting Empyrean's first words - he came here to fight, came here to kill. The Emperor had demanded blood, and every breath he now drew was from another's good grace - likely the Empress next to him. For all the negotations, the plays on words, the joy of fencing in negotations; it seemed the Emperor cared for a very different manner of dueling.​

​

"If killing the Snake was so easy, I'd of already done it. You know where she is, congratulations - but I will not waste our only chance at her death on a snivelling welp seeking favor in the court of opinion. Pedantic ambition. Malum of House Marr, I will strip your flesh from your bones if you don't give me exactly where she lays her head down.", he said, rotting teeth clenched tight.​

​

"And if you ever attempt to play me like one of those Lordlings again, I will remove that tongue you like to exercise. When my wife says you speak plain, you better speak without so much flavor next."​

​

Darth Malum of House Marr // Darth Nwul // Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Nwul | Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Empyrean
______________________________________________________​

The pale woman felt a modicum of sorrow for the Steward who had stumbled so unfortunately into a political nightmare. Darth Nwul agreed to be patient and the young Lord was rewarded with an approving nod as her swan-like neck inclined. He would have to forgive the manners of both her husband and their quarry…The moment was too tense, too important, for pleasantries.

Srina noted, silently, what the priest Nwul wished her to see.

Eyes were windows to the soul, rather, windows to the truth. Her own were laced with Echani awareness which caused her to pick up on things that others might miss. In him…She missed very little. The piques of insanity twined with malefic bright and baleful dark, anchored, by a wound that would never stop being hungry. Never stop intruding with his position, with his life, and apparently bringing him some measure of agony.

The Empress…Was intimately familiar with his condition and thus found it within her to dredge up some measure of pity for the Kissai. Where she would…His force wound would not. It never, would.

Her focus had to shift from Darth Nwul to Darth Malum of House Marr . Between the two…One of them was far more likely to die in the next hour than the other. The dark-haired man seemed startled by her sudden presence but she remained steadfast, quiet, and unassuming. His security team seemed nervous but Srina paid them little mind. Had she wanted their liege dead—He would be.

His anger was palpable.

Anyone would be…bothered…by her emotionless dissection. It was simply her way. To be blunt and truthful when others needed to hear it, even, when they thought otherwise. There was nothing to be gained in a lie but ill-gotten returns. Things, that usually, wound up costing far more than they were worth. Even if she incensed him in the moment, time, would provide perspective as a balm to a wounded ego. It was better that she hurt his feelings than it was for her beloved to break his neck.

From the moment he began speaking anew…She knew, it would not go over well. Malum though quite handsome was an exceedingly slow learner. But, perhaps he could do so before it was too late.

The one thing she was pleased by, overall, was the glimpse of the man who had finally stopped simpering beneath the hide of a mouse. A smile that had at least some of the pride she had asked for. The arrogance that was befitting a Sith Lord. Not—A whipping boy. Her hand remained on his chin whilst he declared his intent and something that might have been a smile touched the kiss of her mouth. It was pale…haunting…but it was there. It wasn't until she felt the shadows growing at her back that she gently released Malum…Turning to face the wrath of her husband.

Her body remained between them, though, largely symbolic. Empyrean and Malum could see each other clearly over her head. Srina should have felt the absolute sub-zero chill the Emperor of the Sith emitted in the deepest parts of her being. Having witnessed his rebirth, his capability for destruction, and everything that entailed…She should have pulled away. Instead—She acknowledged who he had become, twined with who he had been, and found his immediate ferocity to be the most…alluring metaphysical embrace.

His anger was, after all, what had called her to his side the first place.

Even his shout rang like a bell within. Perfect and clear.

"I'm sure that isn't what Malum of House Marr meant to do. He is young, meldanya."

Her words to Darth Empyrean were softer than the destructive, life-stealing, miasma his wrath produced. There was no disrespect in her tone. Nothing, that might insinuate that the Empress was countering the Emperor. They worked together, even now, as they always had in the past. She left Heir Marr much more slowly than she had approached. Wading through wave after wave of what should have been agony. Mildly, she wondered how Darth Nwul dealt with it.

If his wound enjoyed the meal they made. Ironic.

"We cannot eat our young and he cannot tell you if he cannot breathe to speak."

Srina met Empyrean and let her right hand close around his true hand, the one he held clenched so tight, while her left came to his shoulder with a pulse of misting power. It was not painful to Darth Empyrean . It was a silent request from his wife that he loosen his grip on Marr and look at her instead. See her, through his rage. Through the absolute vitriol, she could feel burning behind mechanical eyes. "His ill use of language is ignorance, not, treason. Words are the only measure he has…His only shield."

"And…", she paused, another delicate pulse passing from her, pressing into deadened flesh. "I did ask."

"Some forms of loyalty can spring and evolve from different sources…But this is not one of those instances, Heir Marr. Would it be inconceivable for you to understand that if my husband chose to kill me slowly at your feet…that I would belong to him still? I would embrace all that he is until I could no longer… and I ask for nothing in return but the ability to protect what we have made. Not favors, not lands, or power. I will be at his side, evermore. That will never change. Devotion. Loyalty. It is not for you to decide what we will give or accept.", she spoke, loud enough to be heard, not only for Malum, but for Darth Empyrean . To remind him who stood so close to the unforgiving wound in his side. "My point to you while you may or may not be running out of air is that…This is not a philosophical or ethical dilemma available for debate. We are not comparing the love of your family and a loyalty to your people. This is the loyalty that declares whether you thrive or become stale ash and wind. You cannot serve two, Malum. You cannot serve the snake and the dead."

Certainly, he would be sick of being told what he could and couldn't do…But that was the point. If Malum couldn't see that she was providing him a path forward where he might not lose his head…He couldn't be saved. Even offering to serve the "Empire" was a play. If he thought that killing Empyrean served the Empire—Would that not be keeping to his word?

No.

Threatening to kill his absentee mother was not enough. His only option was to let the information Empyrean desired spill from his lips like water from the sky. Her head tilted to rest against Empyrean's gaunt shoulder…Quelling the fire that could set this whole providence aflame.

"You must choose."

______________________________________________________

​

 

[Darth Nwul]

The Steward of the Dark Side returned the Empress' gentle nod with one of his own, he took a step back and maintained eye contact, feeling her investigate him, search him, probe him. He didn't block her, his emotions in the force laid bare. And they were ... intense ... it was as if the full spectrum of human emotions was bottled up inside of him and let loose to whirl about like a hurricane. He burned with the purest romantic love while at the same time a conflagration of hatred roared like a beast alongside the groan of cosmic despair. The advantage, of course, that his emotions could never be read clearly. His wound in the force, trickling that pure shadowed darkness into him, seemed to twist at her scrutiny.

Just as her head turned, his smile seemed to widen a little more.

His golden eyes turned towards Malum as the young man spoke. Nwul's eyebrows rising a little in surprise. The Mind-Eater listened intently. The boy spoke of loyalty, spoke of the demands of the loyal, the circumstances that impregnated loyalty into those that followed and those that had yet to bend the knee. Nwul understood such a position, he had stood before Carnifex and only bent his waist. There was only one thing that he would press his head to the earth for, the Dark Side itself.

Malum spoke with pride and dignity, the trappings of a proper lord, of someone who had embraced the Dark Side. He reigned his emotions in, not showing them, but rather, using them to fuel his words. Such potential. If only he didn't- ah, Nwul, there you go getting greedy again. He resisted the urge to chuckle. His smile growing wider and wider as the young man made his declaration, how he would prove himself to the Emperor. Such passion! Ah! Such fire! But would it be enough? HIs toothy smile looked almost deformed, mad, and hungry.

That was when the billowing waves of miasma crashed into him. The dark clouds washing over his body like a current around a stone. He took a deep breath of the tainted air and tasted the Dead God's power. It was delicious. He allowed his wound to open in his spirit like a maw as he parted his jaws, darkness pouring down his throat and into his skin, absorbing the strength and the icy chill, turning it into a molten steam that burned through his veins. He could barely contain himself. What wonderful power! His face flushed a little with delight, his golden eyes having turned towards Empyrean, golden veins forming beneath the skin of his neck before quickly vanishing. Ah, if only he could feast on that mind.

But it was not to be, he reigned himself in and eased his smile before anyone glanced his way, only that thin, playful smirk on his face as he watched the proceedings. His body devoured the miasma eagerly until the Emperor relented. The mighty beings words coming down in a caustic fugue that only his wife, Srina Talon , managed to redirect. She saw the potential in Darth Malum of House Marr that Darth Empyrean was ready to destroy. She was trying to save him as best she could within her role, but Nwul knew all too well the look in those eyes.

Last chance.

What a drama, Nwul thought to himself. I should have brought popcorn~ Oh what fun~

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Sing, O Bogan, of the fear of Malum, son of Alexandros, which brought upon the imminent demise of this so great enterprise.

His mind rewrote the words of that oh so great poem, that he had long since forgotten the name of. Its words were an apt description of the coldness that took hold of him, a fear that begged him to take a step back, then another, then one after that, to put every man, woman, and child in front of him, and Empyrean's rage. The irony of that, and of that old poem, was not lost on him, instead, it was that knowledge that kept his feet still. Shame, shame was not a motivator one would wish to proclaim as the reason they stood their ground, one might have said courage, or bravery, or even more ironically enough, loyalty. Instead for him, it was shame or at least the potential for shame, he could not run, not now.

Not when all he needed, what they all needed, was just beyond this chasm that had erupted between him and the other side. This ravine whom loomed so ominously beneath his feet, which called to him, called to him, seeking his failure and death.

How could he possibly make it across that gap without falling?

He could not.

Not unless he changed tactics... yet again.

He could feel the metaphorical cards he held in his hands weakening with each adjustment.

Oh why so, had the Empyress shown herself? Empyrean was right where he wanted him, intrigued with the knowledge he had, willing to make concessions for fealty.

An angered, dismissive Empyrean he knew how to deal with, he had survived two encounters with him after all. One had to simply follow where his words went, agree where required, and weasel where it was not. Appeasement, appeasement was the key here, and it had worked, both times.

It would have worked again for the third, if she had not made her presence known.

Catching him off-guard, a woman he had seen from a distance, but never, never held an interaction with him. Demanding he act in the way, which he knew, he knew, would enrage the temprous corpse, all for plain speak? All for arrogance, and pride? All to prove something which was as worthless as it was infuriating. Oh she had played him, played him for a fool... acting now as his defender, as it was she who had blown the holes in his walls

He was visibly shaking.

Where fear and shame once held providence, anger and rage took hold.

Why had he not simply said what they desired to hear? Words were wind, and they had to know, they did know, beyond what lies of absolute loyalty they tied themselves over with, that bringing both apprentices of Darth Ophidia into the fold, would never reach absolute mutual trust. So why had he not simply said the words he had needed to say then? Do as he was just about to do with Empyrean.

Because she had asked him to break the theatrics.

To speak plainly.

And for some reason... no, it was not for some reason, he knew the exact reason.

He had thought for just a moment, that perhaps, just perhaps, this Imperium might be different from those of old.

For once the fool had thought, that maybe, this Emperor might have been different. Willing, to hear from his subjects.

Well the cold rage that shook him, provided him with that answer.

The amulet burned upon his chest, his skin long since unfeeling, a wandering thought that it had been lucky that the Empress had moved away when she did, combined with her firm grip on his chin, and the Emperor's fury... well, the Amulet was not controlled by he, it was controlled by something beyond them all really. The Great Marr, it had felt him threatened before, and so far from its own mortality, it had defended him the only way it could.

An explosion of force that was designed to annihilate the threat, while sending him flying away.

It would have been rather unfortunate if these talks broke down over that certain misunderstanding.

Instead he closed his eyes, his hand moving upwards, to grasp the amulet at his chest. He ignored how hotly it burned, how much rage, and anger was contained in some long dead, holy, ashes.

He opened his eyes, and they were blazing a fiery red built upon all those emotions that filtered through his body, radiating out of his form, a burning hot rage, pushing out against Empyrean's cold fury.

He gazed down at his lightsaber.

Why bother with this farce?

He was an assassin, trained and honed by the greatest assassin that had lived.

And what more did Emperor's fear, than a knife in their back, by an assassin?

He might lose.

He would lose.

Yet, they would never gain the satisfaction of victory.

He breathed out warm air, and breathed in cool, and then within an instant, all that rage, that anger, that fury, disappeared in an instant. The amulet did as it was required, and cooled down, as all that he felt, fell away to a calm serenity.

His hand dropped from the jewelery, his eyes gazing upwards to the figures in front of him, his mouth opening, as words flowed out.

"Fiviune, Darth Ophidia is at Fiviune, surrounded by an impregnable fortress, defended by an undefeated fleet," and so the die was cast, his betrayal set in motion. Yet his place in it, not quite settled, he turned specifically to face Srina, his face cool, his eyes calculating, a rather sudden shift from the acts he had performed, "You ask me to choose between the snake and the dead, well..." His hand went down to his lightsaber, slowly, a show that even armed, he was disarmed. It hissed as it activated, as he pressed it into the earth, "I choose the dead."

He resisted the urge to smile.

He resisted the urge to laugh with crying insanity.

Even in her betrayal, his Mistress had proven the superior of them all.

I choose the dead?

The dead, inherently eternal, inherently stagnant.

It was just as she had warned against, in her lessons so long ago.

"Yet, where words are wind, felt, and soon forgotten, I wish to provide proof of my... loyalty... Darth Strosius and I have access to Fiviune, with loyalists bound to us, with a plan on how to kill Darth Ophidia. Allow me to implement it, and whether I succeed or not, I will have nowhere else to go, I shall be... bound, in my... devotion." Presumptious? Maybe. Yet the amulet could not fully take the Malum out of Malum.

That did at least elicit from him a smile, both small, and coy, even as still, he shivered as the coldness of Empyrean's presence rained over him.

Darth Empyrean Srina Talon Darth Nwul

 

[Darth Empyrean]

His anger dissapated as Srina Talon spoke him down - letting his rage fall away into the nothing that it actually was. Empyrean was not the brute he put off - he came to kill Malum of House Marr, but he couldn't abandon an oppurtunity when he saw one. Though his very sensations, Srina had known to step between them - defend Malum from Empyrean's tyranny. She knew it as well as he what the sudden shifts between their demeanors would do. So close were their thoughts on the matter, he wasn't entirely sure who had decided it.​

​

Were it any case, Malum lived because Srina arrived.​

​

The black cloud of strength drifted from the floor in reverse, unnaturally retreating in time and place as it fell back into the roiling turmoil of the Bogan that had become Empyrean's Organs and Heart. Empyrean had watched with his ever noticing eyes Malum contain his artifact - a sensation within Empyrean was used to. In his spirit, he had fought the Marr Saint a thousand times over - him and all his cadre of sith from his era.​

​

He did not, however, react to it. The artifact was grand, may even work against a greater Lord under the right circumstances - but Saint Marr would not overpower them both. In spite of his preperation for it to reactively fire back at them - but was caught off guard in a rather odd sense to watch the rising Marr heir contain the artifact himself. It was a good sign he was growing in power.​

​

On the Dead God's face remained only a snarl despite his inner thoughts - of how this had played out as he had hoped. He would continue to hold that snarl as he spoke in a low and dangerous tone;​

​

"The first words you've said that haven't brought you a breath closer to death.", he spat.​

​

"If you are so desperate to prove your worth, fine - be in the first wave. You will wear a force locator - so that in the event you perish, it will be me she sees in her last moments. Ensure the masked fiend that is Darth Strosius remains loyal - it would be a shame to kill you both after the final hurdle of this empire was settled."​

​

Srina Talon // Darth Malum of House Marr // Darth Nwul​