Dominion The Serpent's Den | (SO Dominion of Empty Hex)

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective: Unknown

He idly noted the answer, Bastion, capital of the former empire. To have met your master when the empire was collapsing around you... certainly would have been an interesting, and climatic event. It was stories like those that were worth telling, that he should have asked more about, from both Ali and...

And...

It seemed at the pivotal moment of their enterprise, he had grown rather sentimental. Regretful of questions he had not asked, of answers he would never receive.

For though the die had been cast long ago back on Alvaria. Now he thought it could be taken back. To be a betrayer and a traitor, dually, was not a life, lived for long. To rationally realise that though, aided ill in emotionally understanding it.

Especially as his partner's words pricked at his mind and heart both.

"Don't you dare turn this around on me!" Malum growled, marching forth to stand at almost equal height with the Sangnir knight, forcing him to stop his relentless march forward, his avoidance of Malum's concerns, "We both agreed that aligning with the Emperor was the best option for us both, let's not forget you left me to negotiate that sordid agreement while you were being defeated by Ade- by Empyrean's pet Sangnir!" The slip had come out of instinct more than anything else, but somehow that filled him with even more anger.

"This is treason! Even if she is not Empress, do you not feel anything?! We are betraying our Mistress in her moment of greatest weakness! We are throwing aside our duty! Our honour! To save ourselves!" He pushed closer, an accusing finger at Ali's chest, his body beginning to vibrate with the pure unadulterated emotion, mixed together to form something entirely too indescribable, "We've lost this battle... yes, we designed this battle to be lost, yes," Their betrayal was done, and no doubt, the Queen of knowledge would no doubt know that by now, "But it is right and wrong, you know this more than anyone! You are one of the few Sith who so clearly see it! If we do this... we will be committing a wrong, Ali..." He deflated at that, the Galaxy had never cared for rights and wrongs, truths and falsehoods, it was not the way of their life or their world.

Yet, that did not mean they had to feel beholden to fate and destiny both, "Yes, her attempt to eliminate Empyrean and Carnifex both has failed... yet do you truly think either of us are able? We lost on the Malsheem... do you have any certainty we will succeed here today?" For that in itself was a question. He remembered keenly, that day on Fiviune, when he had met his Mistress for the first time, when he had been taken on as her apprentice.

She had utterly destroyed him.

Such was the way when an acolyte faced the claimed Sith'ari.

Yet, it was not simply the fact he had lost which gave him pause.

It was the fact she had never drawn her lightsaber.

He had gotten better since those days, sure.

Yet how could they stand against her, and succeed?

"We might beg forgiveness, we could convince her to escape, the Tsis'Kaar are not a force that can be destroyed. We can make our way into the shadows, and from them emerge, stronger and greater." Behind his mask, his eyes shined in naive hope. In an impossibility.

Yet one, he almost convinced himself was possible.

Darth Strosius Darth Ophidia

 

[Evor]

Objective: Wrath of Storms
Tags: Gerwald Lechner Naedira Darcrath Arkryion Malachar

Time began to slow for Evor, and he was very keyed into that fact. It had been many years since his body had seen combat of any form, and even longer for his mind. He was not as sharp as he once was, his reactions slow and sloppy. These were no paltry thugs guarding a crime boss's spoils, but beasts whose sole intent was to tear him limb from limb and wear him like a puppet.

Reinforcements. Good.

He did not know Srina Talon 's apprentice, by name nor by their actions. But he would take whatever help he could get. He lunged forward just in time as a Terentak’s jaws snapped shut where his arm had been half a second before. Had it not been for the force he would not have known he was even in danger but before he could even turn to fell the beast it collapsed at his feet as Arkryion Malachar unleashed his reckless fury upon it.

A favor he would repay.

Bolstered by his new found companion he pressed forward, trying to find some space for himself but there was none to find. Every step he took was blocked by the jaws and claws off the enemy. He could feel his power slipping away from him, fear and self-hatred creeping into his mind. All his dreams of power and glory being wrenched away from him prematurely.

It was then that he felt it, a great surge of power emanating from somewhere close by. It would either be his death, or a much needed lifeline. He just needed some time. He reached inward, letting the fear consume him as he drew upon what little strength he had left. The hilt of his lightsaber was quickly clipped to his belt as he ducked under another set of claws. Using his momentum he kneeled, driving both of his palms into the muck and mire before him.

Fwoom.

A surge of energy echoed forth, sending the vile beasts around him flying. A mere shimmer in the air around him told him that a small barrier was up, but would it be enough? It was a game of seconds, one that he had hopefully timed and read right. Only time would tell if Gerwald Lechner or another of their merry band would be their savior, for it wouldn’t be him.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Wrath of Storms
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Xeykard / ( Alina Tremiru / Quinn Varanin )

​

The masked man let out an angered hiss in response to his opponent's remark as he pulled his weapons back to a more defensive stance, glaring at the other Sith. "We shall see." A small part of him couldn't wait to stain the ground of Fiviune with his foe's blood, but practicality would have to persevere over such a desire. This was but the first wave with many more to come after all.

Alisteri leapt forward suddenly as he sensed his opponent gathering strength in the Force, his blades bared and just as eager for bloodshed as their wielder. Before he could fully close the gap however a wave was sent through the Force and he was thrown back, having to dig his blades into the ground to stop himself as he briefly skidded and rolled onto his back.

He got up quickly but a glance behind himself revealed that the reserve defenders and their positions behind him were not so lucky. Some had been thrown out of their positions entirely, others slammed against the barricades and defenses and now slumped against them, even some of the mounted weaponry had been thrown off or twisted and turned into malformed versions of their former selves.

A growl ripped from his throat as his gaze snapped back to the other Sith as he began another charge, this time not running straight at him however. Instead, in a somewhat surprising show of agility, he was leaping side to side as he moved forward. Almost as though he was attempting to find some flank or other weakness he could exploit simply by approaching from a different angle. Regardless he wound up on his opponent's left side as he leapt forward and brought his sword and lightsaber in a downward slash towards the other's shoulder.

----------------

Objective: Righting the Wrongs
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Ophidia

Alisteri's advance reluctantly halted as Malum stood before him, his mask's visor reflecting the other's as he spoke. "Oh. Oh I'm sorry that I lost that little spat." He pressed a hand to his chest to complete the sarcasm laced into his annoyed tone. "Next time why don't you face down the woman clad in armor that a lightsaber can't pierce and who has the ability to rip durasteel apart with her bare hands, and I'll handle Empyrean instead!"

The hand against his chest slowly clenched into a fist as the tirade continued, his body visibly shaking with a pent up rage. The troopers escorting the cargo glanced at each other in confusion and concern, choosing to continue forward a bit to give the pair of Sith a moment. And to extract themselves in case tempers flared too hot.

Suddenly the fist against his chest lashed out and wrapped around the wrist of Malum's poking hand in a bruising grip as he leaned forward slightly. "Do not ever accuse me of treason and betrayal you blueblooded wretch! I have served the Sith since before you were a twinkle in your parents' eyes and I have never turned my back on nor worked against our cause!" He hissed out between clenched teeth, the grip on Malum's wrist tightening for a moment as if threatening to break it before releasing as he pulled himself back and recomposed himself. Slightly.

"She had the chance to kill Empyrean and Carnifex before this occurred. She was the one sitting right next to them both as Empyrean claimed the title of Sith Emperor, and even backed him on it. She has been the one choosing to bide time and wait as the two of them expand their control and dominion over the Sith Order!" His voice rose and rose until finally he was shouting in the otherwise quiet halls. "She betrayed us! Her inaction and complacency has led us to this moment, trapped like rats awaiting the exterminator!"

He took a breath to steady himself, his whole body quivering with a barely contained anger. An anger that had been festering for decades. An anger present since the Worm Emperor had summoned the Sith to Odavessa so long ago. An anger that he could ignore no longer. "She said herself that the goal of the Tsis'Kaar, that her goal, was to safeguard and ensure the future of the Sith. And what has she done? She let Empyrean and Carnifex live, let them establish and secure themselves in the Sith once more. She has failed in her efforts Malum! Success or death!"

Alisteri gestured widely, outwards towards the forces battling for Fiviune beyond the innermost chambers that they found themselves in. "Darth Ophidia will die today Malum. All we can do is choose if we die with her. She's made this grave and I will not allow Empyrean and his lackeys the pride of putting her into it. Her time is done. But ours may not be." Clearly he had put thought into this, far more than Malum had at any rate. Almost as though he had this in mind for quite awhile.

"The way of shadows and of biding time has failed us. Our master has failed us. These days of slinking around have brought us nothing! It has brought the Sith nothing!" His words were firm and impassioned, as stalwart and fanatic as his title would imply. "I am tired of waiting and hiding! I am going to march into her chambers, slay our master, and the moment I have the chance to do the same to Empyrean and Carnifex I will not hesitate to cut them down where they stand!" He stared intently at Malum, the mask almost seeming to do nothing to mask the bright hatred in his yellow and crimson eyes. "Now are you going to work to save the Sith, or are you going to let our master's fate be your own?"

 

[Lucia Naberrie]

Location: Ritual Grounds - Fiviune
Dialogue Legend: <<Technopathy Link>> │ “Verbal”
Objective: The Wrath of Storms
Tags: Evor Gerwald Lechner Alina Tremiru Xeykard Adrienne Keres Darth Strosius Srina Talon Darth Empyrean

The gynoid’s advance was unbroken. The Sith Assassins of the Tsis’Kaar and their henchmen set themselves upon her with an aggression that spoke to their desperation. And yet, their efforts were quickly frustrated, then turned back against them as Lucia struck where they least expected, before fading back into invisibility like a deadly apparition.

In that manner, Lucia ambushed a fireteam of four Inquisitorial Troopers with a surgical salvo of four 14mm slugs, each delivered with machine precision to punch through her targets’ duraplast helmets before obliterating the vulnerable flesh, bone, and brain matter encased within. In turn, a pair of hidden Sith Assassins who had been accompanying the soldiers dropped their camouflage and moved to strike at the gynoid with their lightsabers. However, Lucia was ready for them. Firing twice more as they closed the distance, the large slugs struck their raised lightsabers and briefly stunned the assassins. Then, the gynoid slipped out of realspace to disappear in an instant, only to reappear directly adjacent to her targets almost a second later. Immediately, the closest one was cut in twain from the shoulder to the opposite hip by a searing, supersonic lash of hot magenta fire that tore through air, armor, flesh, and bone with a sharp crack. The other assassin managed to duck just beneath the whip, only to find a vibroblade buried inside the back of his neck, at which point he let out a wet, choked gasp before collapsing to the ground.

Moments later, the woman-shaped technological terror blinked into existence at the site of the closest ongoing ritual. Without warning, her slugthrower pistols gave a sequence of three cracks as she snapped her aim from one target to another, blowing open the skulls of three ritualists with ruthless efficiency. The two remaining sorcerers—a male Zabrak and a female Ophidiae— immediately shifted their attention towards the synthetic assassin in their midst, with both unleashing a coordinated surge of Force Lighting that was intercepted and absorbed by the gynoid’s energy shield. However, the force of the blast sent Lucia reeling back, the cascading electricity briefly disrupting a number of her non-critical systems as some of the energy bled through her shield.

Gritting her teeth, Lucia tapped into her reserves of energy as the electricity continued to assail her systems. All the while the two sorcerers advanced upon her as their Lightning taxed and drained her shield’s capacitor, weakening the barrier with every second that it was subjected to the galvanic assault. A few seconds later, the shield dropped, drawing a smirk from the tattooed features of the Zabrak as the serpentine Ophidiae gave a sharp, arrogant hiss.

That was when the gynoid struck.

Without warning, whips of fiery magenta plasma ignited from both of Lucia’s palms and swung out in a circular arc around her. Suddenly, the electrical onslaught ceased its fury, leaving behind little more than sparks that fizzled out and died. In turn, the maimed, bisected pieces of the two sorcerers’ bodies fell to the ground, leaving Lucia standing alone in the middle of the now-fading ritual rune circle. Over the next few milliseconds, the gynoid processed the scene to assess for any remaining enemies. Finding none, she deactivated her lightwhips and took out her OmniLink, intending to report the news of her success.

“The ritual has been silenced.”

Final Post.​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective: Doubting Paths Taken

Oh, he was so sorely tempted to simply smash through that mask, and see the face of that man, so filled with principles and philosophy, yet equally so filled with anger and rage. Yet he held his nerve, even if he himself was so filled with emotion, with the frustrations, with the stress, and even indeed the anger drawn out from this utterly fucked situation, losing his one ally in this mess. The one he had gone to Korriban of all places to recover.

Still, Ali did not make it easy.

"Maybe if I could have trusted you to handle Empyrean I would have!" He shouted back, it was no secret to either of them that both the Emperor and the assassin absolutely hated one another, it had been a miracle that Malum had been able to negotiate his inclusion into the agreement at all. After all, if the Emperor had refused to include clemency for the elder apprentice, Malum knew, he might have attempted to charge forth, logic and sense be damned, in a blaze of glory, for even the chance to slay the Corpse King, to win their clemency by force.

He had a feeling Alisteri would have even approved of such reckless abandon, which is why Malum had elected to take on that particular assignment, "Instead you lose to Adeline and then get captured by the Kainites, and now you stand here, so utterly confident that we could slay, the strongest woman, nay, the strongest being this galaxy has ever seen!" His eyes were in their righteous fury, every doubt, every regret, he felt since all of this had started, pouring out of him as if he were some volcano, erupting. Well, Mt. Malum can finally burst.

He pointed to the soldiers rapidly scurrying away from the two feuding Sith, "And your little toy," He almost spat, with a sneer, "Will not change that."

It was as his other hand was grabbed from its accusatory stance against Ali's chest, that he saw red.

He felt the amulet around his neck become molten hot within a second, almost hissing at him in warning that the threat was in front of him. That it would utterly annihilate it, and save him if it pushed any further. While with his free still hand, pointed away to the peons running away, he summoned the Force within his fingers. If the Sangnir wanted a fight, he would give him a bloody one.

"Then tell me what that cause is that you're so confident of!" Malum hissed back at him, the two sons of the snake seeming to circle around each other, once united in their desire to strike down their superior, now drawn into the bowels of infighting, a fitting metaphor for the Sith Order, right up till the end, "You bowed your head to Prazutis and the Shaper as the rightful Emperors, and yet you abandoned them when the Empire fell!" Malum's wrist caught in Alisteri's handed maw, pushed against him, "You sought passion, but rejected Carnifex! You sought strength, but rejected the Worm! You sought power, but rejected Empyrean!"

His breathing was draconic, for every breath he expelled from his nostrils had the promise of flames billowing forth, as Ali seemed to push down on his wrist, almost as if he was threatening to break it.

It only gave Malum a reason to go further in the attack.

"Now you seek victory, but reject our mistress! You would kill them all, all claimed Sithari's, but tell me, are your chains broken? Are you set free?" As his hand left his wrist, it gave him a moment of pause, only a moment, but it was enough for him to deflate, the amulet at his chest growing cooler aided in much of that, "I cannot claim to know the mind of our mistress, I cannot claim to understand why she threw these attacks upon Carnifex and Empyrean when it was clear they would fail. We were not privy to her plans, we were not privy to her secrets, and now the entire Order shall suffer for it. They have suffered for it." Around them, far off in the distance, the battle raged, those men of the Tsis'Kaar, those who had entrenched themselves upon the planet, and would give their lives for their dream, were being massacred by those with equal conviction, for a different cause. Far above them, the Mors Vistra fought a losing battle along with a fleet that was being battered.

In the end.

Maybe that was all it took. The rest of Ali's words slid down his form, as he looked to the side, towards the destiny which they would face, his hand grasping around the amulet burning around his neck, and feeling that ever familiar, tranquil calm take over.

"We have doomed the defence of the world by orchestrating this betrayal. We have doomed our Mistress by following through upon our... sordid agreement, as you call it. You are right in the end, I suppose, the Empire shall not survive, and the Sith shall not survive with this infighting. Yet..." His masked face, looked into the cold metal of the man next to him, "Neither will it survive your unending desire to rid it of all those you believe impure, Empyrean is Emperor whether you like it or not, do you truly believe in the end, we shall grow stronger by wiping out the greatest Sith that live?" Malum had the strangest inclination, that his elder peer, did believe so.

So without waiting for an answer, he marched off to face fate.

Yet not before some final words echoed in the hallways, "You have one last chance to learn why she betrayed you, as you so claim... will it be after you learn that reason, that you will finally see this for what it has always been... a betrayal?"

A master to have the power, and an apprentice to lust for it.

Success or death indeed, for the cycle still spun.

Darth Strosius Darth Ophidia

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Strosius​

Brothers in arms, apprentices under the Pale Assassin, stewards of the Tsis'kaar and its betrayers. Alisteri and Malum's words echoed through the Cradle of Contempt, bouncing off its stone surfaces and cutting against the angular architecture. To those who could see clearly, the fortress itself grew darker as their argument progressed, as if the very stone was responding to their animosity, building upon it, stretching taller and deeper while standing very much still.

There were many things she never told them, things they had to discover or grasp on their own. She needed them to grow, to claim and usurp, to hate and curse those things that were outside of their control.

She needed them to crave.

The Cradle of Contempt - Where hatred was nurtured.

Across the room from where the two apprentices argued were a set of double doors, embossed with the image of sith and jedi at war hammered out of black iron. In retrospect, it could be just as easily interpreted as an image of sith fighting sith in the battle for ascension, climbing over one another to reach for the black star at its zenith.

A slow and heavy creek cut the air as the doors opened as though by a will of their own. Red light welled out through the crack and traced an alluring path on the tiled floor. Behind it followed faint trails of mist as cold air pressed all heat out of the chambers. What light was present before cowered and dimmed.

She stood with her back to them.

No words escaped her, yet a command echoed:

Come.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Righting the Wrongs
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Ophidia

The simmering anger swirling in his form threated to blaze into another bout of shouting again at Malum's dismissive remark before he began walking forward once more. His hands clenched into fists as he glared daggers into the back of the heir of Marr for a few moments before he let out a hissed breath. "Tau aras nenx z'kaina kia buti visitija Tsis." Was he the only one that knew that anymore? How could he be when it seemed so obvious from where he stood?

Alisteri shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath as he marched after the younger Sith, gesturing for the troopers and their precious cargo to follow as he passed them. He did feel a measure of sorrow for his soldiers, so unused to being in the presence of other Sith aside from himself and their first impression was an argument between allies. Admittedly somewhat of a mistake on his part but they did have more important matters to attend to at the moment, his soldiers could be spoken to and heard later.

As he fixed his gaze forward once more though he finally noticed how the path before them had seemingly grown darker and the air colder to match it. The cold seeped through his robes and armor and chilled his skin to the bone, a familiar sensation of the Dark Side's heavy presence. Soon enough the source was made apparent as the grand and ornately decorated doors at the end of the hall creaked open and revealed the hooded form of their master.

His troopers stopped in shock and awe at her presence and Alisteri's own march faltered for a moment as well. But only for one moment. His stride resumed, and indeed seem renewed, at her silent beckoning. His hands twitched at his side, his fingers itching to curl around the hilt of his sword or summon his lightsaber from its place on his belt, but he didn't arm himself yet. Neither did he order for the artifact to be armed. Yet.

"Master." He called across the silent corridor, like a child speaking out of turn.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective: Doubting Paths Taken

Malum's newfound confidence, and certainty, passed with every new step taken into the inner sanctum. The path grew darker, the air colder, as if the room itself drew out from its surroundings... all the good that was born from this world, not that there was much of it, pulled out from the very reality of which they sat, to be consumed by... what this was.

He felt his elder peer, stare daggers at the back of his head, and felt the smallest pang of regret. He had ripped him a new one and then walked off before even allowing him the opportunity to respond. Malum would not say that he was wrong in what he said, indeed, he had believed it wholeheartedly.

But after such a raw shouting match, it was the height of cowardice for him to simply walk off, not allow a rebuttal, not allow a counterargument. After all, it was out of fear had not it? He was scared what Ali would say in the heat of their anger, that what he would say, would not only be an abject pain upon his soul.

But would be... the truth.

He resolved they would talk again, once they succeeded here.

If they succeeded here.

Success or death, after all.

He did at least catch the last words that came out of Ali's lips.

Tau aras nenx z'kaina kia buti visitija Tsis.

His amulet glowed in the darkness.

They Are Not Worthy To Be Called Sith.

How Ali could so confidently say such words, about the strongest Sith that had lived... was something he could not still grasp his mind around.

Still, he banished those thoughts, as a singular command played over his brain.

"Come"

As he looked forward and gazed upon the back of the target of their query. The strongest Sith to ever live. The one they would have to slay, in order to survive.

A tall order, all things considered, yet one that bound them ever still to the course that had long ago been decided upon Alvaria.

Though, had they not been thinking of this treason, this betrayal, this deceit for far longer? Did not the apprentice always seek the master's greatness?

Stepping forth into the room, he found himself within the centre. Sensing Ali waiting behind, standing. Malum knew, even as he called her master, if there was anything to say, it would again, come out of his lips.

Such it was, that at the beginning no words were exchanged. Instead, as he raised the finger which bore upon its features, the Eliadian Ring of Fire, instead, around them, suddenly erupted out from the cold air, an intense heat, a scorching flame, so hot to be made bright blue.

And with that performance, he was upon his knees, his gaze narrowed upon the floor in front of him, in the respectful stance, which one always made in recognition of their mistress.

"My Mistress, the Mors Vistra and the rest of the Tsis'Kaar fleet will soon be defeated, crushed under the weight of the Mors Mon, and all the other Eternalist machines of war. While we are slowly, but steadily losing the ground to the invaders. The day is lost, we must retreat." He spoke with all the seriousness, the sincerity, and the fealty of a true loyalist.

A true loyalist, he had not been for quite some time.

Darth Ophidia Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Strosius​

She did not turn to face them as they entered, but seemed to stand admiring the architecture of the room; its sith brutalist stylings, refined with significant details pointing to its Tsis'kaar foundations had inspirations from the One Sith who ruled the core when she was a young girl. The times had changed so much since then, yet some principles remained true.

Even with her back turned, the apprentices could likely feel her awareness of their placements.

Perhaps, by now, they had come to expect it.

Even the flash of heat did not make her turn to see them. More than before, her position appeared to be a conscious choice. Bait perhaps? How much did she know of their plans? How much did she know about the nature of the battle fought?

"Loss is a matter of perspective, apprentice."

Her voice cut clearly through the air now.

"Anyone who sincerely thought the Imperial forces could be repelled from Fiviune is a fool."

Only now did she turn. The silks twisted as she turned a shoulder to the two of them, her smouldering eyes tracing a line between the two young men that faced her, that called her master. Meaning, hidden beneath the words she spoke, tickled their consciousness as the molten irises passed over the two.

But you knew this, did you not?​

Her eyes narrowed, then closed.

There was a concealed path off Fiviune, one they would be privy to when they became knights. When the Sith Order first cut off Jutrand and the surrounding systems, she stole hyperspace beacons and created a concealed path that circumvented the domains of her rivals. It was instrumental to the early success of her order. Based on the vector of the Mors Mon's attack, she believed it to still be concealed.

"Yet, I sense you come with great purpose, my apprentice."

The very floor shook beneath them as she addressed them. Her voice, while not growing in volume, resonated with the very air like the thrum of a world-breaker charging up.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Righting the Wrongs
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Ophidia

After a moment, mainly after the flames that Malum conjured had fully gone out and vanished in the otherwise dark room, Alisteri strode to briefly stand beside the other masked apprentice before dropping to a kneel as well. For all that had occurred and transpired, and all that would transpire here in this very room soon enough, she was still his master. Still worthy of his respect and the bow of his head.

Even if he were to lose it to her within the next few minutes.

When Darth Ophidia spoke after Malum's plea for retreat, Alisteri felt something in his core sink and twist. Not guilt as his fellow apprentice felt, but instead a dreadful sense of apprehension. One that only magnified at her response before she turned to face them. As always there was something lurking within her words and presence. Something that he could not identify nor trace and yet something that was unmistakably important and urgent. His hands, now clutched against his knees, twitched to reach for his weapons once more just so that he would be prepared.

"Are our purposes not always great, my master?" His voice was so small and insignificant compared to her powerful address, one that shook the very ground beneath them and yet had barely risen above her usual quiet tone. Despite this his masked gaze rose from the floor to dare look upon her form without a hint of hesitation aside from a noticeable tension in his shoulders. Like a spring coiled and awaiting the chance to release.

"We strive to bring about your will, thus there is no purpose of ours that lacks in greatness." Was it a lie? Perhaps it depended on one's perspective. Malum would certainly think it was given his guilt and genuine concern, but Alisteri held no such illusions. Since he had first sworn to serve her he had never strayed from Darth Ophidia's orders, never sought to undermine or ignore her commands. Even now he was simply carrying forward her most integral lesson that she had implanted into his and Malum's minds over the course of their tutelage.

Success or Death. "Fiviune will fall within the coming hours my master, it is only a matter of time." He noted as though it was some simple and unchangeable fact. Given their circumstances it probably was. "We must ensure that the fall comes to benefit us rather than our foes. The Tsis'Kaar may lose this day, but we cannot lose the Tsis'Kaar."

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective: Doubting Paths Taken

He allowed Ali to speak his words, his words with double meanings, metaphors, and vague sensibilities. All the tools which were to fill this conversation no doubt, this conversation of those who served, and those who held service. Commander and soldiers. Master and slaves.

Yet even the most mistreated slaves, could rise in servile insurrection.

The most committed soldiers, rise in mutiny.

Those who served, wanted to be served.

"Our purpose can be carried out soon, for now, I simply have a question," It was a strange port of call, they had but hours to flee, if to flee was at all the objective which they gave themselves, to waste that time, in either taking flight, or barricading these walls, to form a last line of defence, if they were to go out in some blaze of glory, with a question.

Well, it was most irregular.

Yet, the contents of that question might, in the end, be worth the glory, worth their lives.

He gave a sideline look towards Ali, as he spoke the question plaguing him since their meeting with the Shaper, "Why did you make this attack now, to strike at Empyrean and Carnifex with our assassins, without informing Ali-steri," He recovered quickly from the mistake, turning back to fully face their Mistress, "or I? If it was a coup, if we had known... we would have brought you victory, we would have brought you the Empire."

Instead, they bound themselves to Empyrean's.

"Did you mistrust us so? Did you feel us unready?"

He let the questions hang in the cold, dark, air.

"The Tsis'Kaar will fall unless the battlefield changes... what would you have us do?" Her words plagued his mind, she knew, he was almost utterly confident that she knew. She knew what death sentence they had signed for her, what bondage they had made for themselves. How long had she known? She had known, and done nothing?

Why?

The questions would not leave them.

And in full honesty, he felt the answers would not free him either.

"Give us the word, some instruction, some order, please." It was their last chance, to preserve their honour, preserve their fidelity, their fealty. For if not.

All they would achieve, all that would come.

Would be tainted by their dishonour here, upon this day.

Darth Ophidia Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Strosius Darth Malum of House Marr
​

Words, words, words, they scratched at the surface but did not dare to take the plunge.

Fiviune had fallen the moment one of her apprentices had revealed where she was. This fortress was never meant to hold the power of the Order at bay, and the time they had been able to buy was more a grim testament to the shortcomings of the Order's military might than an honest battle. If she survived, then she would have words about the efficacy of their operations.

But this fight was not one that could be won on a battlefield; this was a war fought for the very core of what it meant to be Sith. Indeed, the Tsis'kaar had to survive, one way or another.

One form or another.

"I never gave such an order." Her eyes set on Malum, then snapped sharply to Alisteri. "I would have succeeded."

She had such plans in place, and while there were many opportunities up to this point, she had to bide her time for a moment when the Order was ready to shake off the yoke of the self-proclaimed gods and return to the correct path.

The darkness seemed to coalesce, as if it shaped itself into daggers by the command of her voice. The Force thrummed and the serpent-heads above seemed to lean closer, gaping higher, fangs bared to strike, eyes shining with malice.

"You ask for an order? A word? A command from your master?"

Crimson light burst into being behind Ophidia as a mighty pull tugged on the two of them.

"Fight."

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Righting the Wrongs
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Ophidia

Alisteri's gaze snapped over to the other kneeling apprentice at his mention of a question. What could he possibly want to know in such a dire hour? Now was the time for action, not quizzes and queries. They had perhaps a few more hours at most before Fiviune was undeniably in the hands of the invading Sith Order forces, they could hardly afford such idle wonders.

But then Malum briefly met his gaze before asking his question, one that caused the elder apprentice to tense as his fingers dug into the ground beneath him. Of course, Malum just had to ask that question. He almost sighed and shook his head but instead his eyes snapped back to observe his master. She had an answer to that question of course, it was simply a matter of if she knew who the real culprit was. Knowing her he had little doubt that she did, which was why his hands began slowly sliding back to his belt where his weapons were stored.

Malum's continuing questions and pleas faded as Alisteri felt the blood and adrenaline rushing in his body and briefly clouding his senses as he focused on only two things for a moment. The beating of his heart, and the movements of his master. His fingers slowly wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber and sword respectively as he let out a breath that he had been holding for far too long.

Then Darth Ophidia's gaze snapped to him and her remark cut through the brief haze that he had found himself in, his teeth grinding together and his fangs stabbing into his gums as he tensed and readied himself for her strike. He knew it was coming, it just had to. "You had yet to succeed in that regard, my master." His voice almost trembled in anticipation as he spoke, perhaps attempting to explain his actions. "Therefore I decided to take matters into my own hands." Perhaps that was the most honest thing he had said this day.

The grip on his weapons tightened as he felt the Force itself seem to tense in return, his master seemingly just as ready to strike. Like a coiled serpent right before it leapt forward with fangs bared. The next thing that he knew a mighty tug pulled him of his feet and towards the Pale Assassin, his reaction quick and decisive as he drew his sword and ignited the blade of his lightsaber. Alisteri stabbed then into the ground to stop the forward momentum and save himself from the pull but he knew that he couldn't hold on to them forever.

He had waited, dreamed, planned, and schemed all for this moment for almost twenty years now. And he would not let it pass him by. :"Activate the Relic!": He shouted the order into the commlink in his mask, the group of his troopers that had been left far behind at the entrance to the innermost chamber perking up at the order. Without hesitation they unclipped the cargo container and cast it aside, revealing an obelisk of dark stone. The four faces were lined with inscriptions of ancient Sith words and runes, all culminating in a pyramidal tip where the stone had been carved to look reminiscent of a Sith holocron.

Four of the troopers dutifully removed their gloves and drew their daggers, ritual dagger imbued with the wonders of Sith alchemy, and cut into their now ungloved palms. All at once the bleeding palms were pressed against the four faces of the obelisk and the runes across its surface lit up with a deep red glow in response. After a moment it let out a pulse through the Force...

------------------------

Confusion erupted across Fiviune as the Cradle of Contempt, the fortress where Darth Ophidia was making her last stand, suddenly went quiet. What had once been her undeniable and easily sensed presence in the Force had vanished and left a void in its place. A sickening gap in the Force that all across the world and even those in orbit would be able to sense.

Still the fighting continued, even seeming to redouble their efforts in regards to the Tsis'Kaar forces. However in orbit above the world the skirmishing took a different turn. The battered Tsis'Kaar fleet, seemingly willing to die where they stood to keep the world out of the hands of the wider Sith Order, suddenly began splitting off. The Inquisition portions of the fleet, the Mors Vistra, and many other vessels began disengaging and pulling back away from the fighting. Their allies expressed their confusion and frustration but their attempts to hail the fleeing ships were met only by silence as the battle raged on and more ships began to fall back.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective: Doubting Paths Taken

She never gave such an order.

His breath grew heavy, his mind grew heady, his arms felt unwieldy, almost wishing to snap off from his poisoned, deceitful, soon-to-be corpse.

Their rebellion, their plan, their betrayal, all built upon a lie.

He felt his hands begin to shake, his brain begin to vibrate within his skull, and his breath was shallow, rough, and difficult. They had thrown aside their honour for their survival, thrown away their duty, thrown away their loyalty.

All for their own survival, when they were cornered rats, abandoned by their mistress when they thought it was their only option, the only solution, their only path to absolution. When they thought, they... had been betrayed. They had justification! Once the bonds of faith were broken, they had no need to maintain them. Once they were betrayed, despite his protests... betrayal was the only option left to them. Blame would be thrown down upon the betrayer, the scourge, the traitor, the one who broke the peace for their own advantage, rather than maintaining their honour, their duty, their virtue.

Yet, if they had not been betrayed.

If they had proceeded into Empyrean's arms due to a misunderstanding.

It had been them who had stained their honour, them who had broken from their duty, them who failed in virtue.

Penance, penance was their only option. Yet, before he could even voice the words, beg, do anything to correct this madness.

The grinding voice of his fellow knight spoke through the darkness, and Malum's eyes were quick to round on him. Unable to resist, his jaw opened beyond his control, as the shock took control of him. There was no excuse to have not known, if it was not their Mistress, and Malum knew it was not himself.

There was only one other person who could command the Tsis'Kaar to mobilise and strike as they did.

He saw red.

His hands went to his lightsaber.

He would dispatch this traitor himself.

And the Tsis'Kaar would fall to the shadows, forever a thorn to the Corpse King's Order, until finally, they would have their vengeance.

Or such was the plan that flowed through his mind in all the rage and tempo of the moment. Yet even as blood rushed to his ear, he felt the thunk, thunk, thunk, of the war drums, demanding he make his move.

Unfortunately, it would be their Mistress that made certain that such conflict between forged battlebrothers would not take place. Her lips moved, muffled words reaching his ears, of a make and meaning which he was neither in the mood nor position to understand. Yet, what he could not hear, he could see, he could feel. The darkness visibly coalesced into daggers behind their mistress, Faces, serpentine in nature, seemed to hiss at them both.

Yet... was he not the loyal one?

"Fight."

There was no time to make excuses, reveal what he knew, explain that they had been deceived. His crimson lightsaber hissed into existence, as his eyes widened, his body refusing his command... or else, having its autonomy stolen from him as he was lifted up into the air, and with all the dignity of a catapult, hurled in the direction of the darkness, of the snakes, of certain death.

It was desperation that would save him, his amulet burning with remnant energy, as his body flowed freely with the Force, pushing back against the force that acted on him. Seeming suspended in the air, yet captured in this strange form of a tug of war.

It was as Ali gave the order for the relic to be activated, as his eyes closed from the anticipation, that he knew.

He had made a terrible mistake.

Once suspended in the air, within a flash of time, he found his feet planted firmly on the ground. His lightsaber was drawn, as his breath grew heavy. Opening his eyes, gazing directly towards the woman that was his foe, where once his rubies glew their brilliant colour, now they were dulled, empty.

A voice called out from within, demanding, calling, begging, to be released. To explain the truth, to turn on the traitor. Yet, he had only one objective.

His ring had become unresponsive, as had his band, as had his amulet.

Now there was simply him, his lightsaber, and a singular goal.

Survival.

"Darth Strosius, I expect Malum shall have heavy words for you and even heavier actions once this is over." He spoke into the darkness, almost as if directed to no one at all.

His hand found itself on his second lightsaber, and thus another red hiss joined their gathering.

"Darth Ophidia, for as long as I stand, no threat will come to this form." His blades arced into their defensive stance. This would be a battle with no chances for mistakes.

A battle where he was cut off from the Force.

Yet, so was she, no?

This would be a battle decided by a cut.

He simply would make certain it would not be he, who was the victim of it.

Darth Ophidia Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Strosius Darth Malum of House Marr​

So it was Alisteri - The outcome was not to her displeasure. He had developed slowly, but it would seem he was coming into his own in time. Now, he only needed to learn the final truths of the Sith and then, perhaps then, he would be ready to carry on his part of the legacy of the Sith. She could see Malum's doubts, sense how he turned his hatred toward Alisteri, but he had forgotten something.

Alisteri alone had not betrayed her; Alisteri had not lead the Order to her door alone.

Malum did.

And so the die was cast, and she did not intend to let the Eternalists foil the end goal of the Tsis'kaar and doom the Sith to stagnation. Alisteri and Malum had, together, forced her hand into an inopportune situation.

Now, she could only hope they were ready.
__
So this was their ploy? To deny her the Force and overwhelm her with their physical prowess. With Alisteri's vampiric power and Malum's youth, she could see how they would seek this path.

The forceful pull died with the activation of the artefact, and she stayed her hand from the eviscerating strike of her bloodshine blade. She could feel the Force draining out of her, sapping her of strength and foresight. It reminded her of the Netherworld, of being consumed by the portals as a young girl, of fighting her way back to join the Sith - Of dying in the defence of a flawed empire and learning the truth of the cycle.

The left corner of her mouth cocked into a hint of a smile as she brought the bloodshine blade from behind her to point at Alisteri.

"Spare me your speeches."

Her stance fluidly shifted to hide her behind the blade, while her left hand slipped into her sleeve. While her motions were not as quick as before, they were still impressive for a woman in her senior years. Suddenly, smoke spilled out from the ground around her, obscuring her form until only the red light of her sabre betrayed her whereabouts. Then that too vanished.

"Time to see if you have kept up with your bladework."

Her voice still seemed to bounce off the walls, giving no hint of where she hid or whether she had moved. Her skills of concealment went beyond the Force, that much was clear.

The red light suddenly flared again as it burst forward and lashed out at Alisteri with a flourish of precise slashes in blinding speed.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Righting the Wrongs
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Ophidia

The moment that the Force was dampened and his connection to it severed his body dropped to the ground in pain, his master's pull being snuffed out in an instant. Yet without the Force he could feel something within his body writhe and ache at its loss, a feeling of incompleteness wracking his form as his vision swam and something within him cried out in pain. Alisteri's vision swam and he let out a noise that straddled the line between a hiss and a groan as he fought the urge to wretch.

Many long and exhausting rituals to further enhance his body with the Force had been wiped away in but an instant and all that remained in their place was a sickening pain and the foreign sensation of missing pieces. But thankfully for him, his healing worked quickly to restore what was lost. Enough to do what needed to be done anyway, the rest could be fixed later.

The elder apprentice got to his feet and let out a few haggard breaths as he pulled his sword and lightsaber free from the ground where they had been embedded during the pull, idly casting a glance at Malum as he ignited his own blade. "Nothing is more heavy," He wheezed in response as his gaze slowly turned back to Darth Ophidia, "than the burden of responsibility Malum."

He rolled his shoulders and readied himself for the grim and arduous task before him as his master pointed a blade his way. Even without the Force for assistance he had little doubt that the Pale Assassin would be a difficult opponent, what with her years of experience and mastery of her craft. He wouldn't have it any other way.

"You'll not find me lacking, master." Alisteri's gaze narrowed as the smoke spilling from her form began to cloak her within it, even managing to hide her glowing blade within its rolling embrace. His eyes snapped around as he watched and listened for signs of her presence, hoping that his natural enhancements to his senses would offer him a greater chance to notice her movement. Unfortunately for him he still didn't notice her until she suddenly appeared from the darkness and struck at his flank.

He barely had enough time to pivot and raise his sword to block the slash, her blade easily cutting through the sword without the alchemical properties active to save it. Its sacrifice was enough for him to step back and adopt a defensive stance against her incoming strikes though. She was quick even by his standards and with only one blade able to intercept his strikes he was forced on the backfoot, having to leap to the side and step back just to avoid the strikes that bypassed his lightsaber. The moment he saw a potential opening he dove forward, his lightsaber held across his chest defensively as he stabbed the broken sword forward in an attempt to imbed it into her shoulder.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective: Doubting Paths Taken

They exchanged words as if it were some valueless currency, yet it did have a cost. For every opportunity there was to intimidate one's foe, to respond to their jabs, to make a crack in one's mental defences, where there was none yet in their physical, there was a cost to oneself. A lack of focus, a lack of fortitude, a lack of control.

Losing any of these grave bonds, was tantamount to surrendering the fight entirely.

And if there was one thing he could not stand.

Was the concept of surrender.

His lightsabers buzzed against each other, the plasma blades creating interlocked bars, that were as much about keeping his form safe, as they were about centring him within this moment. Only his mind could cut off from what was once an inextricable part of him, as his dulled eyes carefully traversed through the darkness.

It was a move as predictable as it was brilliant. For even if Ophidia was cut off from the Force that was her shield, her camouflage, her cloak, would it not stand to reason then, that she would conceal herself through some other means? Where once she could directly make herself disappear from the naked eye, from existence itself, one might wonder until the red light stabbed them through their back, now... now she used the environment, as she controlled, to do the very same.

His breathing slowed, growing measured, as the calming aura forced over him. He could feel the perspiration trail down his features, for though his eyes attempted to see through the darkness, as his ears attempted to pick out any little change in the room's disposition, he would have to admit himself.

He was not entirely focused. After all, it remained difficult to remain in the here and now, to fight the battle that loomed in front of them, while he fought the battle within his mind. There were aches, sharp stabs, and pain which caused his brows to rise. Such was the sacrifice in having a battering ram in one's brain, begging, nay demanding to be let free. It forced him to consider leaving the battlefield, running through Darth Strosius' guards, and breaking that relic.

After all.

Was it not his purpose to do so?

To bring Malum back to control, to restore the Force Sensitivity so... callously stolen from them.

It would be so easy, to fulfil his purpose, survival...

He found his body turning...

So simple...

No.

His feet stuck firmly to the ground, his grip on the lightsabers tightening.

They had a plan, a plan which they had discussed, and agreed to. They knew what would happen when the relic was activated, they knew that it would fling Malum back into the crevices of their mind. They knew the pain, the anguish, the discomfort, yet they had agreed to it all, as the only option they had. To balance the odds, which were stacked against them.

They would have to make sacrifices for victory, and this was one of them.

And Malum would simply need to realise, as he battered more desperately within his mental prison, that for all these truths, and revelations. Darth Strosius, was not the threat today.

When he would become the threat, when he would become their foe, then, then, Malum might have his vengeance. He would gladly present it to him on a golden plate if need be.

The hiss of the clash of blades provided him with more than enough to make his move. His feet moved faster than his mind could command them, pure instinct washing away the latent anxiety and fear, emotions he could not feel, much less understand, yet more than enough of a bother to see them as the distractions as they were.

The dulled red eyes, made out the cloaked, Rattaki, in a battled embrace with Darth Strosius.

Perfect.

"Strosius withdraw, bring out your warform, I will hold her off!" Words wasted, words said in urgency, thus words necessary to spend.

His blades extended out, slices from the same direction, but from different vantages. One aimed for the neck, the other, at the waist. Could it be so simple, had she overextended herself already?

He doubted it.

Darth Strosius Darth Ophidia

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Strosius Darth Malum of House Marr​

The sabres hissed and spat fiercely even as they cut little but air.

"You have always been lacking, Alisteri."

Alisteri's blade dove forward for her shoulder, and he would feel it snag, then suddenly loosen as the dark shape and the red light of her sabre shifted quickly, casting the smoke into swirls. While the stripe of crimson light showed her position, it was not easy to see how she stood. The way she moved and held her sabre made it difficult to know where her body was.

Malum entered then. His blades were poised to cut her in three while Alisteri pressed her back. Her red blade moved to intercept the lower strike. There was a moment of contact-

The blades flashed a blinding white and screamed upon contact.

-Then nothing.

His two blades burned through smoke at a slightly altered trajectory.

The pale assassin then pressed from behind, using her assailants' forward momentum and her own strength in an attempt to push Malum, and more importantly, his sabres into Alisteri.

But her sabres were never her only weapons, and as she rounded Malum's back, a serpent lashed out from her left hand like a whip and shot toward Alisteri's legs. The tsaisibola's venom known to be extremely potent. This was not a weapon she had shown her apprentices, but a trick she had employed often in war.

The red blade turned against the two, shifting and dancing, then lashing out again in a series of hounding strikes set to herd them together and press them back with the threat of the bloodshine blades' fine tip.

"That is why you rely on this mutation"

Without the Force to aid her, she was forced to rely on experience. Without the Force to guide them, she hoped, they would be more in each other's way than not.

"How are you sith?"

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Righting the Wrongs
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Ophidia

His ruined sword did seem to stab into something but not the flesh of her shoulder as he had been hoping for, and the shifting smoke and her blade obscured her position before he could try another quick stab. Alisteri pulled his sword back but had to keep his lightsaber at the ready in case she went on another rapid offensive. Before she could though, Malum entered the fray.

The idea of retreating to transform was tempting but between the time it would take to become his warform and how heavily reliant he had made his warform on his alchemical enhancements, he doubted that it would be the ace in the hole. Given how agile and adept their master was at slipping into and out of position as well, a skill she perfect demonstrated when she managed to shift around and wind up behind Malum rather than between the two of them, there was little doubt that his larger form would only make him a bigger target.

With Malum pushed towards him and something lashing out towards his leg at the same time Alisteri had no choice but to leap and throw himself out of the tangle of combat as best he could, hissing in pain when the tip of his master's blade managed to cut across the arm holding his sword as he dodged to the side. The cut wasn't deep enough to remove his arm from the equation in terms of usability but with adrenaline alone to dull the pain it certainly hurt like hell.

"And here I thought you had grown tired of speeches!" The elder apprentice growled as he shifted his stance slightly and sprung forward to try and strike against his master's flank while she was still hounding Malum, his red blade slashing out in an attempt to rob her of an arm. They needed to shift the initiative of the fight back into their favor before she overwhelmed them.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective: Doubting Paths Taken

That she could move like this when cut off from that power so fundamental to their Order, to their very being. Well, that simply showed the prowess of the one they would have to kill today. Malum, in some other scenario, long detached from the emotional gripes that he had gripped onto him, may have thought it tended them a greater lustre and opinion upon their enterprise.

But for him now, right now.

There was no time to think of that.

A grunt was the only outward show of emotion he allowed himself, for as he had imagined, his strikes missed their mark. Though that was not entirely true, his dulled red eyes had kept constant watch of the trajectory, by all rights they were on target. She had intervened, as was her won't, his red blades had made contact, not with her body as planned, but her own blade. Red turned white, as the plasma burned so hot in the contact, and by the end, the woman who was on the back foot against two foes had thrown both off balance, and near each other's throats.

An unfortunate pattern to continue, if their objective was truly survival.

He hissed, as did his blades, deactivating, as she channeled his momentum and redirected it, into barrelling into Malum's fellow apprentice. The competency of Darth Strosius however would save them both, or it was perhaps the natural inclination of most to avoid the fangs of the snake, for the fellow masked man was quick to withdraw away from his form.

He breathed out slowly. This was not working.

His blades activated with their familiar hiss, as his form turned to face the incoming attacks, so pinpoint and varied, that one could be forgiven for mistaking them for needles. Grunts were forced out of them, as the plasma sounded in a hypnotic dance. His blades blocked, as they parried, parried as they blocked, but every strike felt like a hammer, a battering ram, forcing him back onto the defensive.

And on the defensive, lay death.

Relief came from Darth Strosius, still unfortunately humanoid, and without any sign of his ravenous war form, but still, emerging out from his flank, to target hers.

Together still, they had a chance.

And as their voiced barbs sounded across the darkened arena, it gave him uncharacteristic voice too.

"I- we will need no mutation, no alchemy, no sorcery," His hollow voice spoke through the darkness, they would both think it referencing the two apprentices, but no. He blocked another strike, and used its momentum to dodge another, leaping out of the way of a strike, as his eyes so dead, began to emerge with the glow of life, though Malum still hammered in his brain, it would take them both to achieve victory here.

As Darth Strosius emerged on one flank, so would he on another, they might be on the back foot.

But they would never relent.

Never give up.

Until Darth Ophidia was dead.