Outside Korriban City, Korriban
Sirella Valkner stood upon the dusty temples of Korriban. Where once there had been great cities and temples dedicated to the Darkside now stood tombs and the memories of the glory days. Sirella snickered to herself. Every generation of Sith dreamed of the glory days when their power that unto the gods. It was counter productive. For her part the great plant roamed the sands and tombs collecting what she might, and leaving preserved what she would.
Despite the ever imaginatively named
Korriban City and a few smaller settlements like it, Korriban was a dead world, like so many others. It’s fire and very life had been extinguished by the hypocrisy of the Jedi.
Mass genocide of an entire people for the fanatical idea’s of a religious philosophy perpetrated by the Republic and their Jedi allies. The very horrors of such atrocities had left a scar on the land. The sith were hunted to extinction through multiple generations in the greatest mass murder ever committed by sentient beings.
There was a history here, to this planet. Yes there was darkness and terror and horror of all stripes perpetrated by a darkside tradition. But there was also sadness and loss beyond measure. People forget that here, on Korriban, there were children who played games, and men and women who toiled to make a living. It was more than just Dark Jedi and Sith Priests. And yet all perished just the same under the indignant and righteous fury of the Jedi and their Republic allies.
Sirella found a little abandoned shelter that had once been a minor temple of an ancient city. It was all that remained of the once vibrant community. When people left a place a part of it went with them, and a part of them remains. If you went anywhere on Korriban, where it was quiet, sat and listened after awhile you will hear them. Echoes of all the conversions, every thought and every word that was exchanged. Long after they are gone the voices of the Sith remain, lingering in the walls of broken temples and homes.
She did not go inside, but took to it’s steps, the outer altar from which sacrifice was made. There she observed every stone for a moment before discarding her clothes and sitting on the sunbaked stone. In silence she began to meditate. Around her form from the dusty mesa grew the poison creosote, it’s natural circle providing focus for her endeavours. The plant, brown and dead split from energy forming in the air. Darkness surrounded her as she called the spirits of the air. Even in nature there was hierarchy, the big fish eating the small, the predator hunting the prey, and all returning to dust. So to was there a hierarchy in death and those who would be bound struggled against their masters.
Her body began to float as the air grew cold and wind and sand swirled about her form. “I work my worship below the open sky,” she said in the ancient tongue as her body began to float. “Like my forebears before me.” Wind and sand mingled answering her calls. “I have cast off the costume of other worlds and come to you, bare and chaste.”
Power ignited within the air and Sirella’s hair began to stand. There was heat and lightning and the sun eclipsed behind the thickest and darkest clouds one could conceive to conjure. “I beseech thee, lend us your aid.”
A loud crack echoed and reverberated across the horizon. Thorns began to burst from Sirella’s skin, puncturing flesh and extending outward from her.
The first movement has been spoken, a voice in the wilderness calls forth. It was one and many, deep and high, with the only consistency being the power contained within.
We take pleasure in this, for the vile language of our conquerors was not employed.
Sirella could see the spirits now. The priests of old, their form mingled with smoke and dust carried by the wind. Branches and vines start to sprout from the woman and pain increases. She calls out.
Yes little sorceress, the voices reply.
If you seek to control us, you shall be tested for only in holy agony can you understand that the galaxy is of us. Pain unimaginable sparked from from her form as she began the binding ritual.
We are born under it’s starlit canopy and when we die we return to it. The force presence felt on a million worlds. The woman vomited up a dozen thorns and looked down a sneer of malice and hate upon her face. Good, use this.
Raising to her feet she brought her hand up and commanded in ancient sith they obey and yet the spirits would not be bound.
The first movement is complete. replied the spirits.
The second movement is spoken.
Look out little witch upon the sands. This is the world you would rule. As the battle of wills commenced Sirella could feel the tingling at her mind. She followed and enjoyed the sites of the sands, the temples, and the little city that had been rediscovered by [member="Cerita Sarova"].
Look we can see across the planet. This is the present time, and as they spoke Sirella could see. [member="Velok the Younger"] had arrived with his ragtag fleet. An intrepid little Whiphid who had yet to earn the full measure of respect. And yet his scheme to free Korriban may yet prove useful.
This is the wisdom you have gained from lying in dirt at the root of trees.
The images changed. Now there was a woman in a building that Sirella recognized, not specifically but in general terms, to belonging to Korriban City. One of many domiciles behind the walls of the city. She was tied up with cuts upon her arms. Blood dripped down her body into her hair and fell onto a coil of ropes.
All this is happening, all this we see. Watch how the blood flows playing over white rope. She is attempting to divine the future. The spirits laughed a cackle unheard for a millenia.
Suddenly there was a fracturing, as if a thousand panes of glass broke at once reflecting the image.
Observe modern magic. Induced by drugs and fueled by spice. It was madness and yet pleasing mingling sensation and emotion.
Nine million different facets of this being, all pushing and pulling for supremacy. Scents flared and suddenly Sirella smiled.
Ah yes, you can smell the perfume. Good… Cackling the spirits continued.
At this moment there is seduction here. Lips and finger tips reaching with desperate friction and a wet nightmare conclusion, Sirella broke the spell at the fractured faces reunited and formed melting and beginning to warp into that of a Kissai.
Fire erupts across her body dissipating to revealing the pooling legacy of humanity, not that she was ever human, behind.
The second movement has finished…
Anger erupted from Sirella as she looked at the spirits, “I will not be possessed or bound,” she called raising a hand. “We are the inheritors of the Kissai, your time has passed, and you shall obey.
Lightning and darkness mingled in the air as spirit attacked Sirella and she replied in kind. The final blow came and an explosion of power erupted emanating out from the woman and the spirits vanished. A smile formed on Sirella’s face. The pool of melted fat and skin and burning hair where she had been set alight remained. It was of no concern.
“Now rise,” she commanded. And from across the shifting sand she did rise. “Those who carved their mark into this planet, those whose ancient structures still stand, rise.”
Mummified corpses from the temples, tombs, catacombs, and domiciles all began to rise. Warriors of ancient times whose like had not been since since the beginning. Some were armed with deadly lanvarok, others with shikkar and mundane blasters and still more were risen with naught but their bodies.
Sirella got dressed taking the comlink from the pile of clothes. “The first movement is complete,” she called to @Velok the Lesser as her 'army' moved to protect the city of New Korriban. It was a Sith city, and no invading Jedi would subjugate its people.
[member="Grimoire"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Enyo Typhos"] (I believe you all are landing)
