Shadow Hand
The city was a monolith of sith might, a testament to the absolute dominion of the Kainate over everything, reaching far beyond the horizon. New Kaas City stretched as far as the eye could see, it was a sprawling expanse of darkened spires, brutalist megastructures, and industrialized fortresses that loomed like sentinels against the eternal storm raging above. The sky was an unbroken sea of midnight, broken only by the crackling pulses of violet lightning that illuminated the metropolis in violent bursts of magnificence. It was a realm of near perpetual twilight, the age when crusaders loomed over the surface had long since passed and darkness rose to reclaim the world of Dromund Kaas. The very air seemed to carry the scent of ozone, damp duracrete, and lingering incense from the sacrificial altars of Sith shrines that proudly dotted the cityscape. The skyline was a jagged silhouette blend of Neo-Panathan architecture, a mixture of brutalist oppression and tragic expressionism, as if the very structures mourned their own violent history, alongside a unique blend of Sith might and Imperialist design. Towering edifices of blackstone and veined in crimson bore massive effigies of Sith Lords, their visages cast in eternal judgment over the streets below. Gargantuan banners of the Kainate hung like executioner's cloths from nearly every major structure in the vast megacity, their crimson sigils like freshly spilt blood burned against the darkness.
The city's pulse was one of controlled fear, enforced order. All those who witnessed it had said it was among the greatest surveillance states ever created, in the modern history of the Sith Order. The streets were lined with Sith enforcers in crimson and black armor, their visors glowing a baleful red as they patrolled with silent authority. Hovercrafts and automated sentry drones drifted through the air, ever-watchful, scanning for any sign of possible sedition. It was a place that one could never escape the feeling that they were being watched, every minute of every day. It was as if a creeping ghost was an omnipresent figure in their lives, watching over everything they did with clear judgement. The people, civilians, laborers, Sith loyalists, moved about with rigid discipline, their hushed conversations filled with whispered reverence for the Dark Lord of the Sith who ruled them. There was no chaos here, no rebellion. There was only order, and the unshakable will of the Sovereign shattering all rebellious thoughts like broken glass, crushed in his iron grip.
Deep in the heart of it all, looming over the city like a living nightmare rising high into the clouds above, stood the Sith Citadel of Dromund Kaas.
There was nothing, not even its predecessor structures could possibly hope to compete to its splendor. It was a true monument to Sith supremacy, the Citadel was a leviathan of obsidian blackstone and engraved runes, its walls towering into the storm-choked sky. Ancient Sith glyphs pulsed with an eerie crimson light, feeding off the ever-present Dark Side energy that permeated the entire planet. The structure was adorned with tortured statues of past betrayers, their forms contorted in agony, trapped in blackstone for eternity as a warning to those who would dare oppose the Kainate. The main entrance was a massive, reinforced gate, its surface etched with the sigil of the Dyarchy, an emblem of twin crowns eclipsing a bleeding star. The mere sight of it sent a ripple of dread through any who approached it, for they understood one thing and one thing only. They were exiting one world, leaving it as if they stepped out of the realspace and were about to walk into a different plane of existence entirely.
The immensity of this Citadel was breathtaking to behold for the first time, in the force it burned like a molten furnace, pulsed like a beating heart. All around atop the walls, moving through the compound were enough soldiers, troops, and towering monsters to crush even the greatest fortress worlds. The interior of the Citadel was no less imposing. The halls were vast and seemingly endless, lined with towering pillars inscribed with Sith incantations that whispered softly to those who passed by, voices of long-dead sorcerers murmuring secrets to the worthy. Shadows loomed here and the light itself seemed to recoil at every opportunity, as if this place, this world was no longer theirs. Massive banners hung from vaulted ceilings, each bearing the red sigil of the Kainate, its presence suffocating. The air here was thick with the scent of burning incense and something deeper, something different, it was something eldritch, something ancient. Out of the corner of the eye one could almost see things moving in the dark, shadows shifting from one place to the next.
Every so often eyes would reflect off the light from ceilings, alcoves, and other locales while one might see a large, looming shadow in the distance and hear a set of ominous, stomping footfalls. Figures moved about here in relative silence, moving with purpose as they disappeared down various paths within this dizzying labyrinth. The path toward the Sovereign's throne chamber was lined with the Imperial Crownguard, their expressionless black helms hiding their mutilated faces, their tongues removed, their very bodies marked in silent devotion. They did not move, did not speak. They simply watched like the towering sentinels they were. It was hard to even tell if there were actually people at all behind all of that armor. And then, the great doors of the throne room parted with a deep, resonant groan.
Deep within the chamber was absolutely massive, its very scale was meant to crush the will of all those who dared to stand before the mighty throne. Massive pyres of blue-green fire cast eerie shadows against the walls, their glow flickered against the great blackstone pillars that supported the hall. The air here was heavier than anywhere else, it was almost suffocating, charged with the raw, oppressive weight of the Dark Side in its strongest form.
At the far end of the chamber, seated atop an elevated obsidian dais, loomed the Once-Emperor, the Undying King, the Elysian Grandeval Mortarch, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Shadow Hand of the Kainate, and Sovereign of Dromund Kaas Darth Prazutis. The Dark Lord was an immovable force, his gargantuan form clad in blackened Sith warplate, its surface was inscribed with the markings of ancient. long forgotten sorcery. The giants face, obscured by deep shadows that seemed to climb outward from the walls behind him to embrace him as the lord of dominion. The very throne itself was carved from the ribcage of a fallen colossus, its stone like jagged bone entwined with Sith runes, its presence a grim testament to the Sovereign's power, a symbol of his iron fisted dominion. The weight of his presence was suffocating, his sheer will suffusing the very air with an unrelenting, crushing gravity. The room was silent. No one moved, no one spoke. But even the flames seemed to tremble at his very presence. This wasn't the presence of one who had simply mastered the dark side, this was something else entirely. Then, at last, the Sovereign spoke.
"You have come." The Dark Lord's voice came as a thunderclap of authority, it was a declaration, not a greeting. And in that moment, there was no illusion of choice. One had petitioned the Kainate. The city had watched. Now the Sovereign would decide what came next.
