Faction The State of Things (Kainate)

[Lirka Ka]

MALSHEEM

The metaphorical gong had been rung. The Dyarchy had made the call throughout the Galaxy, a summon of the enterprising minds of the Kainate to convene upon the Worldship and discuss the great matters of furthering the Kainite agenda within the Order. The shadowed hand that would guide the Galaxy into a form most suitable for their ends.

The Malsheem hung in the void of space, a beacon of the Kainate’s might, a beacon towards the future. One of its many meeting halls had been deemed the theater upon which the assembly would gather themselves.

The meeting hall was a dimly lit place, exemplifying the darkness that nestled within the hearts of all the minds and monsters that filled its seats. In the darkness slaves and servants toiled to satisfy the whims of the gathered assembly. Light shined through tall transpirsteel windows that looked out upon the vast swathes of industry that fed the Kainate warmachine, generations of unfortunate souls toiling away to build the arms and armor that would see the Dyarachy’s will enforced. Representatives of the Kabal, Shadow Armada, Grand Legion, and beyond. None had been exempt, all loyal to the Dyad and their whims had been beckoned forth.

Among the assorted menagerie sat Lirka Ka: Slavemaster General, and self-declared Lash of the Kainate. A hulking metal raider, who felt painfully out of place among her fellows: Lirka hadn’t been in a proper meeting since the days of the Empire-gone-too-soon when she had been Grand Moff Ka. But these were different days now, and the Galaxy danced to a new tune.

Now, all the Once Sephi could do was wait for the rest of the Kainite assembly to appear and for the Dyarchs to utter out their ambitions for the Galaxy.

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Edge of Oblivion, Star of Thustra

As the doors to the meeting hall parted with a sharp hiss, Nova Ka entered, a vision of sculpted perfection amidst the gathering of the Kainate's most devoted. The dim light caught against the smooth, living metal of her armor, the sigil of Ka—a stylized blade entwined with an ouroboros—prominently displayed upon the tabard of her armor. She was not a warlord, nor a general, nor a slavemaster. She was something far more profound. A disciple of her mother's will, the harbinger of a new order.

Her crimson gaze swept across the chamber, taking in the assembled forces—the Kabal's enigmatic agents, the unflinching officers of the Shadow Armada, the relentless war-beasts of the Grand Legion. And, of course, her mother—Lirka Ka, the Lash of the Kainate, the iron fist that broke the weak beneath its weight. Nova's gaze lingered on her for a breath longer than the others, before she moved deeper into the hall.

Where others may have spoken, Nova merely took her place, the soft sound of her armored boots against the cold floor marking her arrival. To those who looked upon her, she was a mystery—was she a warrior, an assassin, a zealot, a demented streamer girl? In truth, she was all these things and none. She was the instrument of her mother's legacy, and soon, they would all understand.

For now, she would listen. The Dyarchs had called, and the galaxy would tremble at their decree. She took her seat across from her mother, her headdress cause a mild issue, before she removed it, setting the large decoration into her lap.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

It was quite cavernous.

The long chamber was flanked on either side of the room with bleacher seating for the masses of officials, ministers, priests and many others who would be in attendance. The middle of the room held a huge holotable casting a haunting crimson glow over the room, while banners hung on every wall. The far wall at the head of the table held a pair of enormous thrones of obsidian veined in crimson streaks of energy, they sat atop short staircases that allowed them height over the room, a dominant place commanding attention to all who gazed upon them as if the room itself had been built around them. They commanded such attention that it was easy to miss the dark armored Crownguard as they began filing into the room, standing in the fringes like silent statues.​

​

It was a true gathering of the ruling cabinet of the Kainate as many from every facet of the shadow empire assembled, monsters and men stood together here waiting patiently. Long before His arrival the entire room could feel it near. The darkness grew deeper as shadows grew bolder, casting longer, fiendish shapes across the ashen walls as it came alive. The glow of the lights above seemed to weaken, dimming. The air seemed to heave with an intoxicating yet choking presence that came on suddenly and without warning. The closer it came it felt like the entire room began drowning into the depths of the deepest oceans, distant whispers, long faded death rattling shrieks crept out from the corners of the room. It was an unsettling, nerve rattling darkness as if all were placed upon the knifes edge, staring into the maw of oblivion.​

​

When the doors parted it gave way to a giant.​

​

A demon without equal, a reaper clads in the flesh of mortals, a living destroyer cloaked in the demise of quadrillions of lives, countless worlds cleaved apart. The very air hung with the scent of freshly spilled blood around Him. The myths and legends surrounding Him merely scratched the surface, few daring to even gaze in His direction for fear that His gaze alone would command their immediate demise before Him. Ornate black garments clung to His immense muscular frame. Every breath was a quake of power reverberating through the entire hall, every inhalation a vacuum that felt as if it was drawing their very souls from their bodies to Him, as if the Dark Side had become a beating heart inside Him, flowing through every act while the darkness responded to His every beckon call. The very moment His presence entered the room all rose to their feet and submitted before Him, averting their gaze as the Undying King Darth Prazutis, Dark Lord of the Sith, Shadow Hand of the Kainate, and Elysian Grandeval Mortarch arrived.​

​

Even as He swept His molten gaze across the room it felt as if He saw through them. As if His gaze pierced cloud, shadow, earth, and flesh itself, as if it transcended all boundaries. As if all secrets were stripped bare before Him, as if darksight and prophecy were His to master and not even the future itself remained safe from the eyes of a true apex predator. There was a supreme presence of commanding authority that demanded the attention of all around Him, His very presence infectious it was so easy to understand why so many followed the Sith Dyarchy by gazing upon one of its leaders. The Dark Lord crossed the room with a purposeful stride paying none a longing glance as He climbed the stair of one of the thrones and took a seat, waiting.​

​

​

Lirka Ka | Nova Ka | Darth Carnifex​

​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Madelyn Lowe //:
//: Lirka Ka //: Nova Ka //: Darth Prazutis //: Darth Imperius
//:Malsheem //:
//: Uniform //:

Allyson had heard the rumors. The Malsheem—the massive worldcraft—was the heart that pulsed life into the Kainites, a monolithic construct of power and authority. As she stepped through its vast corridors, her mind sifted through fragmented memories, searching for any recollection of having been aboard before. Nothing surfaced. And yet, there was a strange familiarity, a sense that the ship itself recognized her even if she could not return the favor.

The worldcraft hummed, a deep, steady thrum of machinery and unseen forces working in perfect synchrony. Suspended in the void like a rogue star, it was a marvel of engineering, though Allyson had never understood the need for something so grand. The sheer amount of resources poured into its construction was staggering—by her calculations, the same materials could have produced an entire fleet of Star Destroyers. In the end, it seemed more a display of power than practicality. She wouldn't mind asking its creator what its true purpose was.

Would the Kainites still hold their dominion without the Malsheem?

The thought lingered as she took in the towering halls and structured precision of the place. It reminded her of the Jedi Praxeum—or whatever they called their floating temple now. Another unnecessary monument to power. Allyson frowned, recalling that the Jedi's grand sanctuary had been layered with countermeasures against mechu-deru—countermeasures she had tested herself.

She exhaled a quiet sigh, adjusting the cuffs of her uniform. It had been years since she last wore one. Her military record had been stripped away when the Jedi and the Galactic Alliance parted ways, erasing her rank as Lieutenant Commander. Yet the Alliance had no claim over Corellia, which meant they couldn't take everything from her—her First-Class Corellian Bloodstripes, earned over Anoat, remained. A thin, knowing smile ghosted across her lips at the memory.

Her gaze flicked to the woman walking a step ahead, clad in a similar uniform, though with insignia that commanded authority.

Allyson quickened her pace, falling into step beside her. A sidelong glance, a subtle lean closer. One hand remained clasped behind her back, while the other rested near the quiver strapped to her leg, her bow secured behind her. "Are these little shindigs always this creepy?" she murmured, voice low enough for only Madelyn to hear.

She had never imagined infiltrating a Kainite gathering before, and now, standing in the midst of it, she understood why. The decor, the hushed menace in the air, the towering figures of the Kainite elite—it all felt like stepping into the den of something ancient and patient, something that knew exactly what it was and dared you to question it. She could see now why Madelyn had brought her, though brute force against the Kainites' oversized warriors was not a battle Allyson relished. Even Madelyn, taller than her, seemed small in their shadow.

The Corellian tugged at the snug fit of her coat, then at the beret atop her head. Even the eyepatch over her left eye felt too tight all of a sudden. The itch of unease crawled over her skin as they neared the gathering. Allyson sat as instructed, her posture one of quiet confidence—like she belonged here, like this wasn't her first time in a room full of monsters. But beneath the facade, a storm of uncertainty brewed. Too many recognizable faces. Some she'd only known as whispers in the dark corners of the galaxy.

Darth Prazutis. Lirka Ka.

She kept her expression unreadable, but her thoughts sharpened like a blade on a whetstone. Even her Force presence remained unknown, appearing as a weak force user or an untouched human. No concern showed for the woman beside her, but Allyson glanced at Madelyn nonetheless, reading her posture, her expression. She leaned in again, voice softer this time. "You look nice in your uniform, Minister." A fleeting smirk. Then, more curiously, "Is Darth Carnifex supposed to be showing up?"

She could only imagine the smug grin he'd give the moment he saw her sitting at Madelyn's side.

Perhaps she should have infiltrated one of these gatherings sooner. Then, at least, she might have had a better idea of how deep the abyss truly ran.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He'd been in communion for many hours, sensitive to the fluctuations of the Dark Side. The Embrace poured all of it's agony into His flesh, His own suffering greater than any He had inflicted. But the pain did not diminish Him, it did not weaken Him, it focused His mind and gave clarity to thoughts that had fallen astray. As He was released from the Embrace, His naked skin steaming with heat and covered with a thousand new lacerations, His breath even and measured, the Dark Lord's mind was given clarity He could find nowhere else.

Attendants already waited to dress Him, their eyes plucked out because they were unworthy to gaze upon the naked form of their God. Beyond were endless supplicants, all eager to receive even the barest scrap of their Lord's attention; though they were all found wanting. He didn't even look at them, they might as well have not existed. Only those gathered beyond were worthy, the members of His Grand Council who stood in witness as the Dark Lord emerged from His sequester.

Together, they would converge upon the epicenter of a gathering not seen for some time.

Darth Imhilmos, the Seneschal of the Malsheem, acting stewardess of the Dark Lord's managerial network. Her powerfully built form, musculature barely contained by warrior's vestments, belied the analytical mind which wrangled the disparate segments of the great Kainate shadow empire. Her fiery hair cascaded down about her shoulders like a crimson curtain, adorned with the various ornamentation custom to the Epicanthix faith. She was one of the few among the Council who counted among the Dark Lord's Great Wives.

Darth Isolda, the Supreme Prophet of Eternal Rule. Once, the small dark-haired Vahla had been the Dark Lord's superior during the age of the One Sith. Much had changed since those days, the eternally youthful prophet now spreading the Dark Lord's faith across the galaxy, giving rise to countless sermons that forever entrench His power on every world. Her dress conveyed this position of spiritual authority, her eyes blazing with the power of faith that was unrivaled save for the Dark Dyad themselves.

Brutus Mallear, Warmaster of the Immortal Legions of the Kainate. One of the sparing few non-Sith that had gained the Dark Lord's confidence, Warmaster Mallear had served the Zambrano House faithfully for decades. It is his tactical and strategic genius that had given rise to the efficiency that guides the Kainate military of today, his immense knowledge of warfare indispensable to his Lord's machinations for the galaxy. Despite being over a century old, the Warmaster had not lost the vigor of youth, his fit form easily conforming to the austere military uniform he wore.

In stark comparison was Darth Xyrah, the youthful and exuberant Chief Scientist of Shadow Mind, the top secret research and development think tank of the Kainate. Despite his feminine appearance and playful demeanor, Xyrah's mind was among the most cunning and brilliant of the entire Kainate. Through him, the Kainate has made exceptional leaps in technological advancement, creating technology that rivaled and even superseded those of the most powerful and well-funded corporations in the galaxy.

Towering over everyone in attendance was Malgrog the God-Splitter, Warchief of the Graug Legions. His body twisted and warped through blasphemous Sith rituals and invasive Vong-shaping, Malgrog was a creature of monstrous proportions and driven by hungering malice. Saved from the cruel stroke of death innumerable times, the God-Splitter's mind is caught between lucidity and madness. For now, the Warchief's mind is kept cobbled together by the Hansnok-Hai priests that shadow his every step, their fanged mouths muttering constant enchantments in their blasphemous tongue.

Where the God-Splitter was monstrosity given form, Yaldabaoth, Highlord of the Blackblade Guard, was monstrosity given thought. A towering, but sleek, mechanized form with the head of a snarling horned lion, the Kral'ın Montaj of old Panatha. Rather than a singular individual, as it had been in times past, the Highlord of the Blackblades was now a composite personality matrix formed from the digitized minds of every Highlord that had preceded it. Their coagulated consciousnesses now ruled the Blackblades with an neuranium fist, further pushing the Blackblade's infamous lethality to even more nightmarish heights.

Close in size to the God-Splitter was Abrax Iosi, Derriphan of the Eclipse Sect. A hulking Mandallian Giant that had once served in the Kainate Grand Army, but had since risen to guiding the adepts of the Eclipse following the reclamation of the Sith Holy Worlds. What many would assume was a dimwitted giant was actually an exceptionally clever and perceptive warrior who learned long ago to lean into the perception he impressed upon others. The high fail rate of Sith acolytes allowed the cultivation of new Eclipse adepts under his guidance, ensuring that none within the Empire would ever go to waste.

Last to enter among the Dark Lord's entourage was the corpulent Darth Voracitos, the Prime Gnostic of the Seekers of Knowledge. To support his immense bulk, the Sith Lord floated above the ground with the aid of gravitational suspensors laced throughout his garments. Despite his morbid appearance, Voracitos was far more than what he appeared. In truth, the Sith Lord was merely a physical extension of a greater entity within the Netherworld, who had once been just as his physical avatar had been; mortal.

Together, the Dark Lord's entourage swept into the meeting with all the gravitas befitting their power and station. The others took their seat amidst the congregation, but the Dark Lord walked to sit next to His uncle and counterpart of the Dark Dyad. And with a raised hand, visible to all those assembled, the Dark Lord called this conclave of the Kainate to order.

Darth Prazutis | Allyson Locke | Madelyn Lowe
Lirka Ka | Nova Ka | Darth Imperius ​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Connecting...
Connection established.

---

MIN. ORDER TASKING
​

On █ █ █ █ █ █ Agent COOKE will accompany Minister of Order Madelyn Lowe to attend a meeting of Kainate officials on the Malsheem worldcraft.

Priorities:
-P01: Discussions regarding Dark Council members and their alignment to Ministry of Order projects
-P02: Kainate activities in Sith Order space
-P03: Attendees' attitudes on Minister of Order appointment, particularly █ █ █ █ █

Direct contact with Kainate entities is permitted. Submit relevant after action-reports within (12) hours of contact.

WARNING: Unauthorised disclosure of Ministry of Order protected material is punishable by summary execution under the Establishment of Order Act 903.

---

Connection Terminated.
...
...

Meeting hall,
Malsheem,
With: Allyson Locke | Lirka Ka | Nova Ka | Darth Prazutis | Darth Carnifex

​

Malsheem had the ability to make even the familiar feel utterly alien. Madelyn knew she must have walked a version of this route from the landing bays to the great meeting hall dozens of times, and yet she found herself relying on the silent guide that lead the way ahead of her. Madelyn had spent the better part of the last few years on Malsheem, and still she felt like she didn't understand the worldcraft at all.

"Are these little shindigs always this creepy?"

Madelyn cast a glance at Allyson walking along beside her. Madelyn knew she was tough, far tougher than her, but still she felt a strange protective pang in her heart when she looked it her. It felt wrong, to bring the agent to this dark nexus of Sith power, as if she was subjecting Allyson to some invisible and harmful energy that radiated from the walls, that would make her sick like the rest of them.

"I am afraid you'll have to get used to it." Madelyn answered grimly.

"You look nice in your uniform, Minister."

Madelyn chuckled at that. Indeed, they looked... Cute, in their matching uniforms. If only Allyson was truly the loyal Imperial she was portraying. It was no matter, Madelyn supposed. No relationship was perfect.

"Remember, officially you're here as my aide. You will take minutes and take part in the meeting as you so wish, but keep in mind that today you are a representative of my Office. Pay attention to the sentiment expressed here towards other Imperial figures. I am new to this position, and though these are our allies in the room, their insights are no less... Valuable." Madelyn had seen firsthand Allyson's ability to blend into the role she was assigned. But that didn't mean she wholly trusted her yet. The Corellian spy claimed she'd had the last laugh with the exposure of Madelyn's secrets during the twilight days of the previous Empire. That was a fact Madelyn resented, and as much as she enjoyed having Allyson at her side, always within an arm's reach, she still needed to prove her use. They paused just before the great doors. "Just, be discreet about it, please."

They stepped into the chamber, prepared from experience for the visceral feeling of entering a space so teeming with Sith Lords. Madelyn did not have to answer the question about Carnifex, for there was no ignoring his presence when they entered. Carefully, wearing the demure mask she had perfected over decades, Madelyn led Allyson to the spot left for them, beside the Slavemaster General. She gave Lirka a warm smile and a polite nod of her head, resting a hand on her great metal pauldron for a moment, as if she were merely an old friend, rather than a beast of metal and grafted flesh.

Madelyn sat upright and stiff, almost at attention, her notes open in front of her. For the first time since she had been summoned here, she wondered if all this was worth it. Her goals were yet to coalesce, and though she was content to be the loyal puppet for the moment, the stakes grew higher by the day. Still, Madelyn knew no other way of living, so she sat and waited for the first item to be introduced.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka felt a smile creep across her face Nova Ka appeared from the hiss of the doors. She was an impressive sight, and in a feeling most-rare a mother's pride swelled in her chest - Nova was her monster, molded and formed in Lirka's image in the days of the Old-Empire. The Once-Sephi was glad her spawn would have a proper introduction in the shadow of the Dyarchs and the many great names of the Kainate that the pair served. Yet...well. She understood Nova had taken after herself in more than a handful of ways less becoming for politics.

Lenses glued onto the figure of the girl as she took a seat across from Lirka. As Nova removed her helmet, Lirka did the same with the pneumatic hiss of depressurization. She was among "good" company after all, and Lirka's foul uncanniness was far from out of place among the menagerie that Darth Carnifex and Darth Prazutis had assembled. Besides...Lirka did somewhat wish to show off the red and raw brand emblazoned upon her forehead - this was the sort of crowd to appreciate that mark of devotion burned into her flesh by her foul marriage to Carnifex. With eyes of icy blue still locked with the fiery red of her daughter's, Lirka spoke under her breath in words only meant for the two of them.

"Naiaar en' quel'lae. Nai, na lye aen i'carnen en'neledh. Nelar. (They fly our flag. But that does not make them friends. Behave.)"

She trusted her daughter, at least to some extent, but there were reputations to uphold in a place like this. And unfortunately, Nova and Lirka hadn't really spent all that much time together since she recalled the girl from her decades long suicide-mission in the Unknown Regions. And with this great assembly gathered, Lirka thought to the tenants of Eternal Rule.

All things below the Dyarchs was to be guided by subterfuge and ambition.

Lirka could only hope that this meeting chamber would be devoid of such petty antics, but the unknowns in this place were vast to the Once-Sephi. So long had she been stranded away from the Kainate, and even when she had not been trapped for those long long years Lirka spent much of her time outside the Empire performing her duties as Slavemaster General. The unassuming forms of Darth Imperius and Allyson Locke and the vast host of Sith Lords, warriors, and monsters that heralded the arrival of the Eternal Father were all but total unknowns to her.

Even Prazitus, Dyarch giant that he was, was a man that Lirka had spent little time with in her long service to the Old-Empire and the Kainate. And in unknowns, Lirka's endless paranoia could only see knives in the dark pointed at her back. The boiling ichor in her veins helped little, as Carnifex made his approach to his part of the throne she could feel that part of him that had nestled in her gestalt twitching and writhing with dark, foul, energy. The side of her mouth twitched some, the briefest flash of razor sharp ,needlelike, teeth. Hunger panged at the back of her mind, as eyes locked onto the figure of the Eternal Father with that hint of raw obsession behind them. The love that had compelled Lirka to do so many a foul deed. Feeling herself become untethered, Lirka pushed herself back down to coldness. There was decorum to be kept her, and she couldn't lose herself yet.

She was thankful for the approach of Madelyn Lowe a tether to duty she could use to try and ignore that desire to consume. Lirka met the woman's nod with her own - though she did not smile. Really, Lirka had assumed the woman would have been long dead by now and would have paved the way for Lirka to declare herself the last Grand Moff. But alas. Carnifex never did get rid of his toys. Lirka was testament to that. Yet, she would not be overly rude - as Lowe placed a hand upon the cold metal of her powersuit Lirka responded by giving the woman a pat on the arm with her armored claws. They were both old relics now, and it never hurt to be a bit kind to relics.

After the brief exchange, Lirka let her eyes wander to the figure of the Dyarchs - waiting for the first order of business. Lirka had plenty of her own plans, a winding web of narcissistic ambition that had stretched from the old Empire to now. But what the wider Kainate desired? Lirka truthfully had no idea. Lirka had been beckoned to squeeze the Galaxy dry of its valuables, meat and metal both, and since then she had devoted herself to the rampaging taste. Yet now, it seemed to be a matter of dreary politicking.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Madelyn Lowe //: Lirka Ka //:
//:Malsheem //:
//: Uniform //:

"I am afraid you'll have to get used to it."

Allyson frowned, almost pitying their shared situation. They had both stepped into the maw of the Sith, deeper than Allyson had ever imagined. Was this the place the Dead God had warned her about? To trust some, but not the many? The thought lingered as Madelyn spoke, issuing a quiet warning before offering her a place at her side. Allyson nodded, understanding the unspoken message, slipping seamlessly into the role of an aide. A small smile ghosted her lips as Madelyn made a point to remind her—not to embarrass her.

She doubted she ever had. When she was Rae, she never embarrassed Jorryn. If anything, it was the other way around. Too often, she had rushed back into the Lord Inquisitor's office to retrieve forgotten files, buying her time as she spun clever distractions. Jorryn had always been a master of stalling, able to shift seamlessly between gratitude and blame in the same breath. Thinking of those days only made Allyson sigh. She doubted Madelyn would be so forgetful.

Madelyn proceeded forward, wasting no time, and Allyson quickened her steps to match. The Minister carried herself with unwavering confidence, a necessity in this place. It may be an act, a carefully honed defense against the wolves in their midst. The urge to reach out, to take Madelyn's hand in some small offer of reassurance, gnawed at her. But she swallowed it down. Here, such gestures would do more harm than good.

They took their seats, and Allyson observed as Madelyn exchanged words with Lirka. Her mind briefly flicked to the thin dossier she had on the once-Selphi warrior; just another piece in the intricate game of the Kainites. Allyson leaned in slightly as the conversation settled, whispering against Madelyn's ear. "I promise not to embarrass you, Minister." She lingered longer than necessary, allowing herself the quiet indulgence of being near her. But just as quickly, she withdrew, resuming her role. She was here as an aide, nothing more.

Still, she couldn't help herself. Subtly, she let the side of her foot rest against Madelyn's. A fleeting gesture, easily ignored, easily forgotten —but laden with intent. A silent reassurance. The only comfort she could offer in a den full of wolves.

Her gaze wandered, sweeping across unfamiliar faces. She had read about many of them and gathered whispers and rumors, but now she could place names to their cold, calculating stares. And then, Darth Carnifex entered.

The hairs on the Corellian's neck bristled, and her fingers itched for the bow slung across her back, but Allyson forced herself to remain still. Even as allies, his presence sent a chill down her spine. His entourage followed, a collection of figures wrapped in shadow and infamy. Allyson exhaled slowly through her nose, grounding herself, reminding herself of the warning that echoed in her mind. The Dead God's voice was ever-present.

As the meeting began, she let more of her leg press against Madelyn's, seeking an anchor. Something, someone, to remind her that they would survive this.

Yet, with every passing moment, her betrayal and fall became more real.

Spoiler: Tags

Darth Prazutis Nova Ka Darth Imperius

 

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Meeting Hall - Malsheem
Attire: White Outfit
Notable Personal Effects: Standard Lightsaber - Purple Blade
Tag: Lirka Ka Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Darth Imperius Nova Ka

Ellissanthia entered the chamber in demure, graceful silence, her small-statured form standing in sharp distinction to the muscle-bound Giant that was the Derriphan of the Eclipse Sect. In that regard, the Undine hoped that Abrax Iosi’s imposing bulk might help her remain invisible. As a mere Adept who had been chosen to accompany the leader of the Eclipse Sect to the Kainate assembly, Ellissanthia sensed that the best impression she could make of herself was none at all.

Thus, after sweeping her gaze across the hall and studying the assembled officers, Sith, and various monsters (one of which she might be considered), Ellissanthia moved to her designated seat. It was only then that the Undine saw that Nova Ka had been placed next to her, causing her webbed, pointed ears to twitch in surprise. She still bore the bruise on her stomach from their spar, the lancing pain she had suffered from the Sephi’s powerful knee being thrown into her ribs fresh in her memory. And like before, the statuesque Sephi warrior was clad in her distinct armor—a distinct contrast to the Undine’s more revealing dress.

Nevertheless, taking out her spray bottle, Ellissanthia spritzed herself with water before lowering herself into the seat. She recognized the more monstrous figure next to Nova as well—the Slavemaster General and Lash of the Kainate, Lirka Ka.

Acknowledging Lirka with a deferential nod, Ellissanthia offered a short glance towards Nova, briefly making eye contact with the Sephi warrior before her attention was compelled elsewhere.

And there, at the head of the room stood the towering forms of the Eternal Father and the Shadow Hand of the Kainate.

Ellissanthia did as was implicitly bidden, rising to her feet and submitting herself before her Gods. And in the process, the Undine’s features turned pale as she restrained the impulse to cry out, fall into prayer, or otherwise do something else that would embarrass her person and the Eclipse Sect by extension. Instead, the Undine allowed herself tears, which flowed in copious amounts from her eyes almost immediately. She was forced to keep her head down for longer than necessary in order to quickly wipe them away.

When the Undine could hide her face for no longer, it would be obvious to anyone within her immediate vicinity that she had been crying.

 

[Serina Calis]

The State of Things
Location: Malsheem
Objective: Meeting Part 2!
Allies: Ellissanthia
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Lirka Ka Nova Ka Darth Prazutis Madelyn Lowe Allyson Locke Darth Carnifex Darth Imperius

"Power is not measured by the weight of a throne or the breadth of an empire—it is measured by the hands that shape the unseen, by the whispers that turn tides before the blade is ever drawn. This meeting is not about war. It is about control. And control is won long before the first shot is fired."​

Serina Calis entered the meeting hall with an easy, unhurried stride, the long folds of her deep cape whispering against the polished floor as she moved. Her hood was lowered completely, allowing the cascading waves of her golden blonde hair to spill freely down her back, illuminated in soft waves by the crimson and magenta glow of her intricate armor. Despite the weight of the day bearing down on her shoulders, one which had just been difficult and tedious in every conceivable way, she carried herself with that signature blend of poise and languid confidence, her piercing blue eyes scanning the room with a quiet, calculating intensity.

She enjoyed the contrast of it all. The severe, ritualistic gravitas of the meeting itself against the small pleasure she took in playing the role of an efficient, if most definitely irreverent, secretary. In her hands were holopads, their sleek surfaces glowing with the necessary documents and reports—painstakingly curated, organized, and summarized with her usual meticulous touch. Not that anyone here needed the extra guidance, but it amused her to make a show of handing them out as though they were students at a lecture, awaiting their assignments.

Her fingers brushed against the backs of seats, against armored gauntlets, against cold metal and warm flesh alike as she doled out the holopads, flashing occasional smirks as she did. A small moment of levity, but no less serious in her intentions. Information was power, after all.

As she moved through the gathered assembly, she took note of the figures around her, each one a different weight upon the galaxy's throat. Some she knew by reputation alone. Others, she had crossed paths with before.

Lirka Ka was one such figure—towering, clad in steel and scar tissue, radiating the same sheer brutality that had nearly brought them to blows in the past. There was no love lost between them, but Serina understood Lirka. More importantly, she respected his relentless commitment to his role, his sheer unwillingness to break beneath the weight of his station. That, at least, was something she could admire. As she set down a holopad before him, she allowed herself a lingering glance, an almost knowing smirk playing at the edges of her lips. "Try not to throw this one at me, would you?" Her tone was teasing, though she did not expect nor require an answer.

Her eyes drifted to another she recognized—the Butcher King ( Darth Carnifex ) himself. A presence that could not be ignored, that devoured the space around him like a singularity. Their meeting on Jutrand had been a productive one, and she had walked away from it with something rare—respect. She did not flatter him, did not fawn like so many others did. He did not require it, and she did not give it. Instead, as she set his holopad down, she merely inclined her head slightly, a silent acknowledgment between those who understood the nature of power.

Then, her gaze softened slightly as it landed upon Ellissanthia , the one person in this galaxy that she could almost, in some distant way, call a friend. Or at the very least, a comfort. She had helped shape her, guided her along a path where so many others would have seen her fall. And though they had not spoken often outside of the past missions they had shared, there was a familiarity there that was rare in Serina's world. She let the holopad slide onto the table before her, meeting the Undine's eyes for a brief moment with something that was neither order nor demand—just recognition. "Ellissanthia, moving up in the world, are we?" she murmured in a conspiratorial whisper, lips curling slightly in amusement, though there genuine praise in those words.

Then there was Allyson Locke . She had seen her before, not long ago, at a very different kind of gathering. The meeting of the Tsis'Kaar, a rival faction in every way, yet she was sanctioned by the Emperor himself. It would have been suspicious, seeing her here as well, but Serina assumed the same permissions had been granted. If nothing else, it amused her. Allyson had a good sense of humor, which made her infinitely more bearable than most, although she noticed the subtle undercurrents playing between her and another figure in the room ( Madelyn Lowe ), one she hadn't met yet. Noted. As she slid a holopad in front of her, she let her fingers rest against the edge of the device for a beat longer than necessary, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. "I have to say, you wear the uniform quite well, but maybe you just forgot the moustache." she murmured, low enough that only Allyson would hear.

As Serina approached the unassuming, hooded figure of Darth Imperius , her steps slowed ever so slightly, a flicker of amusement passing through her sharp blue eyes. It was not every day one had the opportunity to hand a document to the very man who had once ended their life. The memory of Rakata Prime remained vivid, though it carried no bitterness. If anything, she found herself almost intrigued by his presence here. His operations had since intertwined with the Dark Empire, though his allegiance had never been to crowns or thrones, but to his own unwavering sense of the Sith—such as it was. He was a man of values, nothing more, nothing less, and though she found those values rigid and self-limiting, she could respect them in the way one respected the laws of nature. Immutable. Iron.

With that thought lingering, she placed the holopad before him with a slow, deliberate motion, fingers resting on the device for a beat longer than necessary. Then, tilting her head slightly, her lips curved into a smirk. "Try not to kill me again, would you?" she murmured, the teasing lilt in her voice undercut by something more thoughtful, almost curious. "I'd rather not have to go through the trouble of resurrecting a third? Or fourth time? Losing track." It was a small jest, but one laced with deeper meaning. She had walked away from that death with more than just her life—she had walked away with prophecy, which had lead her to find her future self and in doing so, her purpose. And perhaps, in some distant way, she had him to thank for that.

The rest of them, she did not know. And for now, that was fine. She would learn them, the same way she learned everything else. It was inevitable.

With her task completed, she finally took her own seat, clasping her hands in front of her as she settled in. The flickering crimson glow of the room reflected off the polished lenses of her glasses, hiding her gaze for a moment before she adjusted them with a single, absent motion. Despite the small amusement she had allowed herself in playing the role of the diligent aide, her demeanor now shifted. Her attention was sharp, her expression calculating. This was not just another meeting. This was something far greater.

And Serina Calis did not intend to miss a single moment of it.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

All bore witness to the Dark Dyad.

Together upon their thrones in such proximity their very presence almost melded into one. Their combined darkness grew and expanded infinitely breaching through space and time, while their minds united. It was Darth Sidious the Great who once said that if two Sith could bond together so deeply as to transcend the physical, the power they could unlock together would know no limits. It took countless decades before they were finally able to achieve what one of the greatest Dark Lords of the Sith in history could not, and it would be among their greatest achievements. Even now their combined power was a raging flood that burst out of control, it folded in on itself and magnified with every passing moment. When He stood beside his nephew now it felt like nothing in all of existence was out of reach, as if they could take on any foe, every foe together.​

​

The Dark Lord scanned the chamber now allowing His eyes to fall upon what was the ruling council of the Kainate. It was a great gathering of the combined officials who had sworn to their service over the years, faces old and new stood amongst the crowds now as the remaining elements had made their way inside with the arrival of his nephew. There were no words spoken between them as he entered, just a passing look when the doors opened, and the Eternal Father stepped in, but the glance spoke volumes in a way none of them would ever understand. Together they spent a hundred years side by side taking on all the galaxy had to offer, roles between them changed and shifted as time passed, but it still remained the same. Together they would stand, together they would take on every obstacle put in front of them, from the ruins of Thyferra up to this moment.​

​

Lirka Ka. Slavemaster General and Lash of the Kainate. A fiercely loyal warrior that was very familiar to the Shadow Hand. She was among the last of the Grand Moffs of the Tenth Sith Empire. In the past it was Lirka Ka who worked beside Him when Operation Hammerfall came down, coordinating the systemic annihilation of an entire culture and the razing of a world. Operation Decimation that followed was the masterstroke that slit the throat of the dying people as they took their world away. When the vengeance of the Sith was made manifest for past transgressions, when He let the Blackblade Guard loose. The engines of war were paved by the blood of the oppressed, whose suffering fueled the galactic dominance of the Sith. It was by the will of the Lash that flooded the Kainate with fresh slaves, when their shadow passed over worlds entire societies were gouged of their future, and all roads eventually led back to them.​

​

Darth Imperius. Once he stood as the undisputed leader of the Eternal Empire's military, a genius responsible for uplifting Zakuul into the highest wrungs of galactic prominence. But his fate was not to languish underneath their rule, suffering beneath an Empress he outshone. The Heir of Tenebrae radiated power and emulated the ancient Sith Emperor of old, it quickly became clear that their goals aligned the moment He laid eyes on him. They spoke long on that remote world before finally an accord was struck. Aurelian Sigismund was no more, and Darth Imperius was born when his true self was unleashed. The full might of Darth Imperius empire was brought underneath the banner of the Kainate. Now the man stood as the Lord of Wrath, the Herald of Destruction. All standing before the Imperator were burned to ash and cinders, ruin left in his wake, enforcing Kainate dominance across the stars.​

​

Madelyn Lowe. The woman was once the Grand Vizier of the Tenth Sith Empie. She was unique amongst the squabbling politicians for her brilliance, her shrew and calculating ruthlessness. Few paled in comparison to the skill she brought as she excelled in every field. However, it was clear that she was just merely human, mortal. She wielded no powers of the force no. Time passed and as it did to so many she began to waste away, aging towards the inevitability of death. It was in that moment of vulnerability that the opportunity came to bring Madelyn Lowe fully under the sway of the Dyarchy. A fateful offer was made to return to her the youth that time had robbed her but the price. All it took was to make a deal with the devil, to bind yourself to the Kainate in return. They would do many great things together now that she was pulled out of the reach of time itself.​

​

Allyson Locke. It would've been easily to miss her attendance entirely. Such was the woman's skill that she blended seamlessly into the crowd as just another attendant. Once she was one of the single greatest Shadows the Jedi Order had ever seen. A woman who grew up in war, serving in nearly every major conflict the Jedi Order had seen, she became a deep thorn in the side of many Sith. Many times, she appeared to wreak havoc in their plans, she left such an impression that at times she drew His undivided attention, trying to track her, planning potential ambushes. There was a time that He would've seized the opportunity to have the elusive woman close, to take her soul and end the threat she possessed. But things had changed, and she had gone from dedicated Jedi to a fallen one, a traitor. Now she sat among them. Even now it was unclear whose side she was truly on, it was quite possible no one did.​

​

All the others whose faces old and new alike He passed an equal gaze To the Eclipse Adept whose devotion ran so deep tears of reverence fell from her very eyes to the Fallen Jedi who set upon a new path shrouded in darkness. To the attending cabinet who marshalled into the room and took their places. Those He didn't recognize He drew on the mind of his nephew to see familiarity, experiences unfolding in real time as brief moments to showcase the importance and the allowance of their presence here. All at once any conversations being had, any words spoken between the advisors were swiftly quelled when the Eternal Father called the meeting to order. A holographic display of a lidless, eye appeared in crimson energy at the end of the large table closest to the Dyarchs. It acknowledged nothing beyond its ceaseless stare towards the two Dark Lords of the Sith. The veterans among them would recognize this as the representation of AQUILA, the malevolent artificial super intelligence of the Kainate. While AQUILA may make contact with many, he answered only to the Sith Dyarchy.​

​

"Our influence spreads and tightens across every facet of the Sith Order with each passing day. Our supremacy here will not be found with bomb and blaster but with a whisper and a word. The Sepulchral falls under our command and we have dealt the insolent, those among them who will not answer a devastating blow. It continues to expand across the empire's judicial system. It will be the Kainate that shapes destiny. All while the Jedi have nursed a new generation of weak, spineless mongrels ill-prepared for the future that awaits them. Their unity falters with the hypocrisy of the Grandmaster. They are not ready for what we bring to their doorstep. Woostri was but another example of the weakness they put on full display. Beneath the might of the Sith they shatter, scattering back to their borders in disarray. We will drive the engine of war forwards and pave the way to their destruction with the mass graves of their future, with the ashes of destroyed worlds. We will show them the futility of resistance." ​

​

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Darth Carnifex | Darth Imperius | Lirka Ka | Nova Ka | Madelyn Lowe | Allyson Locke | Ellissanthia | Serina Calis ​

 

[Darth Imperius]

Apparently Darth Imperius was late. But with all that was going on, it was a surprise that he found the time to attend a Kainate council at all. Since his departure from Sith space, he had not been around any of those that still decided to owe allegiance to Darth Empyrean and what was widely considered the Eleventh Sith Empire. But it was not much more than a collection of warring states, pathetic family ties and broken ideals to him. The Kainate was part of it but also was not. He was part of the Kainate and also was not. His allegiance was not owed to any religious dogma or petty faith, but to the Sith Code. He respected strength and the power to use it. He respected Darth Prazutis .

He entered, followed by four Extremis Paladins clad in black armor, red tabards and wielding a shield and lightsaber pike. While he himself was clad in dark, glowing plate, his head covered by a dark hood casting shadows over his pale face. Strapped on his back was the blade Anathema, its hunger tangible, always present. Together with his guard who marched in perfect step behind him, he strode down the great hall, mere moments after Darth Carnifex had entered, but before the Undying King spoke.

The presence was an aftertaste of coldness, of freezing darkness not unlike the void of space. Empty and yet filled with life, filled with energies beyond comprehension and scale. Imperius seemed like a black hole, its gravity undeniable but its event horizon never reached, its singularity, a core of pure wrath, unseen. He was not subtle, not gentle, he did not walk with care, there was singular purpose in it, the grace of destiny and direction.

The Dark Lord of the Ascendant Order offered a stiff bow of his head to the dual throne that he had stopped in front of before moving to the side. He did not settle among the viewers, nor among the presenters, but a spot at the side that was somewhere in between. His Paladins lined up in the dark behind him, silent, unwavering.

His black gaze settled on the speaking Dark Lord. He was here to listen.

| Darth Prazutis | Darth Carnifex | Lirka Ka | Nova Ka | Ellissanthia | Madelyn Lowe | Allyson Locke |

OOC Disclaimer: I was a bit quick handed and slow witted with my original post and would like to "undo" it by giving a proper entrance. Since nobody saw, recognised Impy in his disguise, I think there is little issue with that. ​

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka Darth Prazutis Darth Carnifex Allyson Locke Madelyn Lowe Ellissanthia Darth Imperius Darth Moskvin
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Edge of Oblivion, Star of Thustra

Nova Ka sat stiffly beneath the weight of a hundred eyes and a thousand unreadable intentions.

The room was a far cry from the battlefield.

The polished obsidian table reflected the light of flickering holoprojections, and the chamber echoed faintly with murmurs, subtle movement, and the low mechanical hum of cybernetics and armor. The air stank of incense, old power, and false politeness. And everyone looked like they had killed someone important just to earn their seat.

Nova's helmet sat under one arm, her posture rigid but purposeful. Her hair was braided back in a severe military knot, and her expression—resting somewhere between disinterest and predator's calm—masked the fact that she was quietly watching everything.

She didn't know these people.

She might of heard of them, but that wasn’t quite the same thing.

She didn't trust them.

She felt that part a little obvious as to why.

Darth Carnifex was the first to catch her attention. Perhaps the little entourage he brought with him had helped, but she was more familiar with him than the others gathered here. His visage had been one of the first seared into her memory since she was created, the man was next to being a deity in the eyes of Lirka; which put him on equal terms for Nova in that regard.

Whatever her mother's reasoning, Nova would not question her admiration for the man.

Her eyes wandered to a severe-looking man in rich robes near the far end of the table—tall, draped in flowing fabric that it reminded her of a theatre prop. He's probably some priest, she thought bitterly. The type that bleeds prisoners in a bowl and calls it prophecy. She hadn't caught his name—just a title with too many syllables and too little meaning.


Beside him, a dark-haired woman in a sharp-cut uniform offered a quiet whisper to her companion, lips barely moving. Spy, Nova decided immediately. Or poisoner. Maybe both. Her hands were too clean for combat, but her eyes flickered too quickly to be simple decoration. Nova marked her face for memory. She'd probably try something subtle and theatrical if things went south—slow neurotoxin in a wine glass, maybe. But at a meeting?

She shook her head slowly, no, that would be dumb.

Further down the table, another Sith lord had already removed his gloves, casually flexing cybernetic fingers that hissed and clicked with polished menace. Trying too hard, Nova thought, scoffing internally. Either a duelist or a sadist. Probably both. He reminded her of one of the old pitmasters back in the training camps—loud, proud, and the first to lose a limb when a real fight broke out.

Nova's eyes drifted next to a woman dressed half like a diplomat, half like a mercenary. There was something strange about her gait—too casual, too confident, like she didn't really belong here. Then Nova realized she didn’t exactly belong here either. Her brow furrowed at this, and she continued to look about.

Her gaze swept back to Madelyn Lowe as the older woman exchanged a nod with Lirka.

Nova blinked.

Wait… that's Madelyn Lowe?

She'd heard the name before—old propaganda files, debriefings from the Kainate's long campaigns. Still alive, Nova thought with mild disbelief. I figured she'd be more decrepit. Or in a grave. She watched the woman touch Lirka's armor like they were old comrades. It made something cold stir in Nova's gut—seeing her mother react with familiarity. With warmth, even.

Lirka didn't show warmth to many.

She quietly made a note of this.

Then again, she wasn't sure Lirka showed warmth to anyone unless it was by way of a branding iron or a battlefield elegy.

Nova's jaw clenched slightly. It wasn't jealousy—just… something else. Something sharp. Uncomfortable.

Her eyes flicked over to one of the silent Dyarchs, regal and unmoving on the raised dais. Her brain tried to categorize him like the others—find the weak point, the pattern, the function—but there was nothing to read there.

Just power.

And behind that, something deeper. Something that curled in her gut like nausea. The kind of presence you didn't look at too long, because the longer you stared, the more you felt like your bones were starting to whisper secrets to it.

Nova shifted slightly in her seat, suppressing a subtle shiver.

And then—her eyes caught her.

The Undine woman.

Nova's shoulders stiffened, just slightly—an instinctive tension she couldn't quite suppress. A different setting, a different battlefield, but the memory still flared.

She's here? Nova thought, teeth gritting just behind closed lips. Perfect.

Perhaps in her own twisted way, Nova viewed the Undine as a friend.

For a moment, Nova wasn't sure whether the faint pulse she felt in her gut was the start of anger… or anticipation.

Wouldn't mind round two, She thought darkly. But such things would have to wait,

But she only offered the Undine a slow, sharp look—a silent message wrapped in a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

But still… her mother had brought her here.

Not just to bear witness.

But to be seen.

To be involved.

And Nova would not be the one to flinch.

Still, her voice was dry and laced with sarcasm as she leaned just slightly toward Lirka and muttered under her breath:

"Nóreni vëa nin ulëa Sithi hlarëa?” (Are the metal hands for compensating or is that merely Sith tradition?)

It was a genuine question, so many Sith seemed to be losing limbs these days.

She didn't look at her mother directly. But the faintest curl of a smirk ghosted across her scarred face.

Maybe she wasn't great at politics.

But she could learn to sharpen her teeth for it.

Long as she didn’t say anything stupid all would be okay.

 

[Lirka Ka]

They were an odd menagerie of tyrants, murderers, and monsters. It was about as close to Lirka had felt to being "in good company" for a great many years. But alas, this was not a time of jovial comradery between fellows. What they all shared were the bonds of power, drinking from the succor provided to them by the darkness of the Dyarchs. For that was certainly how Lirka had ended up in her seat, she had danced in the shadows of Darth Carnifex and Darth Prazutis taking what power she could from the mighty Kainate machine. She wore the brand upon her head as proof, the thing was nigh parody of the mark emblazoned upon the Dyarchs - Lirka was rather fond of the pair, after all.

But there were plenty she was less fond of, and plenty whom she acknowledged with the paranoid suspicion she regarded most of Sith space. Darth Imperius she knew only as an outsider - a distant lord of Sithdom dancing to his own tune. Admirable, in its own way: but it meant Lirka trusted him about as much as not at all. Yet, if he was here, evidently the Dyarchy had placed some modicum of respect upon his name. For the sake of curtesy, Lirka would as well.

Curtesy was a rather important aspect of these meetings, for out of rare kindness she ignored whatever was going on between Madelyn Lowe and Allyson Locke instead keeping her eyes forward upon the Dyarchs and other gathered members of the Kainate. Love like that was a deeply repulsive, and sacrilegious, thing to one so steeped in Primordial Darkness. Last thing she needed was to make a face - she had forsaken letting her helmet hide her expressions today.

It was unfortunate, really, that Ellissanthia had not earned the same curtesy Lirka was willing to give to her fellows. Sycophants were plenty among the Kainate, and they took many forms. But Lirka Ka did not prostrate herself without purpose, nor did she weep. Feeling no need to hide her expressions here, she regarded the Undine with some mixture of pity and contempt. They were all fond enough of the dark duo sitting upon their thrones, Lirka just intended to keep a straight face about it.

Keeping a straight face became marginally more difficult as the oddest secretary in the Galaxy decided to make a surprise appearance. Serina Calis being a datapad caddy was one of the last things Lirka had expected to see upon the Malsheem today. It was good that the arrogant youth had actually listened to something she said - picking the winning team, and all of those good honeyed words about their Eternal Father. The girl had useful ambitions, ambitions that fed the Dark. But appearances were appearances, and she couldn't talk too fondly about her.

"Hopefully you won't give me a reason to, Weaver."

She addressed the girl by her title rather with a unserious tone that tinge of dry humor relating to their first meeting in that dusty tomb on Korriban. She hadn't thought of such violence today till the girl had brought it up, as she walked away Lirka briefly pondered the calculations it would have taken to fling the thing straight at the back of her head...though unfortunately, decided such a thing would be too uncouth. Yet, that brief flare of violent intent quickly subsided as she heard the words of her daughter Nova Ka

The corner of Lirka's mouth ever so slightly rose in amusement. It was a nice thing to have someone so similar to herself in this Galaxy. And perhaps half-jokingly, she responded under her breath in Thustran.

"Aewen, thal'naur is Sithi, diranya. (Compensation is Sith tradition, daughter.)"

Lirka did always have rather...odd, views of the Sith she so often served. But it was only reasonable, the Sith were a rather odd bunch, and considering the decorum of the meeting hall - they had their own peculiarities. Unfortunately, Lirka had decided the time for silence and whispered jokes had passed. powers had been assembled. The mighty words of Prazitus heralded the Kainites, preaching of their successes and the growing shadow of the Dyarchs cast across the Galaxy. The Ministry of Order had been a great victory for their gathered assembly, but Lirka had read the logs, and she had seen the scheme laid bare: loopholes for legal slavery to be brought back into the Empire...under a new name. The Once-Sephi spoke out, it was only fitting that one so bold as Lirka would be the first to raise an issue.

"Poignant words, Lord. The victories of the Kainate have been grand, none so great as the Ministry of Order. The moralism of broken chains sundered by judicial might. Yet...I have read the logs, Incarceal Fleets, toiling labor camps, and the ever important crime of non-Imperialism that emboldens us to reap a tally across the Galaxy. It is a familiar ring, and a path I have walked for decades. What is to become of the Slavemaster General and my station? Am I to be subsumed by the Ministry?"

A position that had been carried out in the distance of Wild Space for much of its lifespan. Paranoia came naturally to Lirka, and after so long gone: Lirka would cling to what power she could, she had grown rather fond of the title even.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Meeting hall,
Malsheem,
With: Allyson Locke | Lirka Ka | Nova Ka | Darth Prazutis | Darth Carnifex | Darth Imperius | Quintessa Zambrano | Serina Calis

​

"I promise not to embarrass you, Minister."

"I'm sure you won't, Agent Locke." said Madelyn, her voice crisp, clipped Imperial accent stronger than ever. To the outside observer with keen hearing, her words were detached, almost cold, but sure enough Madelyn responded in kind to Allyson's gesture, her leg pressing against Allyson's, instead of pulling away.

Madelyn carefully observed the group as the meeting began. Most, Madelyn had met or worked alongside at one point of another, a few were merely whispered legends, rarely seen outside the darkened halls of the Malsheem, and others were newcomers, new allies of their growing cabal, like Serina Calis , the Dark Jedi with the reputation for honeyed words, like those she layered upon Allyson. Madelyn couldn't help but narrow her eyes slightly.

Her attention was taken by Darth Prazutis opening the meeting. Words of action, words of authority, flowed through the chamber. That was more her speed than the socialising, and the chatter.

Ever the loyal puppet, Madelyn was enacting her Ministry's policies just as their architects intended. First, most of the lower judges had been sacked and replaced with establishment stooges. Then, the Tribunes the Ministry had turned, or threatened, or bribed, made landmark rulings setting precedents on Madelyn's new anti-Imperial activity laws that allowed for near-indefinite, infinitely extendable sentences of hard labor. These prisoners would eventually be directed into camps and factories for which the Ministry of Order was laying the foundations at this very moment.

Alongside it, the introduction of the Blackwall. So all-encompassing, so easy to violate. The Emperor's edict was fuel for the machine she was building. It was ugly work, but it was what had been asked of her, and Madelyn Lowe was nothing if not efficient.

Then of course, there was the standing-up of SIFIA. Her little Agent had been instrumental in that process, and Madelyn was confident that with a little time they would have a small but potent foreign intelligence force that served both the interests of those gathered in this room, and the Empire at large, all free of the influence of the dreaded Tsis'Kaar, at least for now.

It was fine work, of the kind that she had perfected in the previous Empire, before the rot and fracture really set in. This polity though, it was strong and vital, a powerful organism without a master, but with endless potential. That was almost enough to make Madelyn care about what she was doing.

But not quite.

"My Lords, and fellow servants of the Dark Dyad, if I might begin by echoing the sentiment of our Dark Lord: we are witnessing a new dawning for our kind."

Madelyn cast a sidelong glance at Allyson. Had she witnessed these kinds of theatrics before? Maybe, when she had been sticking close to Jorryn Fordyce's heels instead of hers. Regardless, she was in for a show.

"I will provide a small update. As The Lash has said, progress in enacting the reforms under the Establishment of Order Act has been steady, and our Empire's Judiciary and penal code now reflect the principles of Revivalism and will better serve your needs. The second phase of reforms, and the introduction of the Incarceral Fleets and specialised Ministry of Order internment sites are progressing, but infrastructure costs and a dearth of Assembly funding has resulted in some unfortunate delays. However," Madelyn continued. "The inflow of prisoners and short-term detainees are being funneled to serve the Ministry of Science and Makesh Cartel until such a time as these facilities are ready."

Madelyn gazed down at her notes. She needn't have. She hadn't forgotten anything. Instead she turned her attention to the item raised by Lirka Ka, her old contemporary.

"What is to become of the Slavemaster General and my station? Am I to be subsumed by the Ministry?"

"As we are no doubt all aware." Madelyn said carefully. "The Emperor has outlawed the practice of slavery within our borders." Her gaze flitted around the room, knowing that those gathered had flagrantly ignored these laws for years. Still, officially Madelyn was an official of the Emperor, even here she had to walk that line carefully. "Since the Blackwall edict, certain... Creative methods of circumventing this ruling are no longer possible."

"Nevertheless, I think you will find the newly-introduced sentencing guidelines on anti-Imperial activity sufficient to meet your labour demands." There was little difference between an indefinite sentence and the open abduction that had been practiced before. Privately, Madelyn was not sure how long the Emperor would abide it. But for now, it served as their loophole.

"As for your title, Lirka, it would seem a change is required. If it suits you, I would find it fitting to appoint you as my deputy, where you can practice your craft under the protection of an official position."

 

[Darth Imperius]

The Dark Lord listened to what the slaver had to say. It was a petty title and yet one with considerable amount of impact on every day life in the Kainate and beyond - or rather, it should have. But the outlawing of slavery was a pathetic decision, weak and idiotic. Something only Sith entangled too deep in bureaucracy and pursuing peace over selection could embrace and support. Just another reason the tenure of Imperius as governor and follower of this Sith Empire was short.

Nor was the installation of the Ministry of Order the grand victory it seemed to be seen as. Another institution, one to limit the Tsis'kaar and their fool of a boyking, so it had merit. His black gaze settled on Madelyn Lowe who he had never met before and yet understood that she was affiliated with the Kainate and its dual-Overlords for a long time already. Another instance of influence, personalised, another instance of administration, decentralised. He saw the moves of the game they were playing, he acknowledged them and yet he would not take them if it was his decision. A tale of political games and moves that was the Sith.

His voice echoed with ease through the large hall after the Minister had finished. The black eyes of the Sith settling on the dual thrones, unflinching as they looked across the Dyarchy.

"The Dark Empire has fallen. Rebellions in the Deep Core spread, attacks from the Neo-Crusaders, inefficient governance and weak rule of the now gone New Sith Order and its pathetic Rule of Two followers have sealed the downfall of that realm. Their Imperial minions were drawn to indecisiveness and division and are now recovering in small imperial remnants across the Galaxy. Sadly it will leave the northern flank of the Alliance unchecked now, but otherwise the loss is entirely acceptable."

"Meanwhile two targets have been successfully hit with the might of the Sith Ascendant Order. The Seeds of Rage are surpassing my expectations. The first an old Jedi and refugee waystation, the second Enarc of the fledgling Royal Naboo Republic. Their streets were bathed in the blood of the weak, their Jedi-offshoots battled as they embraced the fury and terror that was the Seed. It was a desecration to them, a foul insult and offense while it was a mere test of arms for us. More will follow once they are ready."

"I will soon launch an expedition into the Unknown Regions, further and deeper than anyone before and around. The veil is to be pierced, shadows linger that will be brought to heel. The Maw had not even touched half of what was possible, the First Order merely had its feet in the dark. There will secrets and powers uncovered that are beyond the core worlds."

| Darth Prazutis | Darth Carnifex | Lirka Ka | Nova Ka | Ellissanthia | Madelyn Lowe | Allyson Locke |
​

 

[Serina Calis]

The State of Things
Location: Malsheem
Objective: Meeting Part 2!
Allies: Ellissanthia
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Lirka Ka Nova Ka Darth Prazutis Madelyn Lowe Allyson Locke Darth Carnifex

"Power is not measured by the weight of a throne or the breadth of an empire—it is measured by the hands that shape the unseen, by the whispers that turn tides before the blade is ever drawn. This meeting is not about war. It is about control. And control is won long before the first shot is fired."​

Serina didn't speak—not yet. She let the words swirl around her like fine smoke, curling into her thoughts and looping into tidy mental knots she could unravel later. The sharp clack of her stylus tapping against the datapad's surface was rhythmic but subtle, the soft flicker of its glow reflecting off her glasses as she updated her records in real time. Every name spoken, every glance exchanged, every political maneuver disguised as flattery or formality was catalogued with the same measured grace she believed she brought to all things.

Her lips curved faintly at Lirka's question—blunt, as expected—and at Madelyn's poised, careful response. She couldn't help but admire the elegance in how Madelyn managed to say both everything and nothing in a single breath. The ministry's machinery had grown teeth, that much was clear, and those teeth were being sharpened on technicalities and euphemisms.

"Deputy Slavemaster General," she murmured under her breath as she wrote, the corner of her mouth twitching with the ghost of a smirk. "How quaint."

Still, she made the note without judgment. A title was a tool, just as slavery had become labor through legal sorcery. Semantics were the artform of every proper empire.

Serina paused for a moment, taking in the full implication. The Ministry of Order wasn't just a judicial weapon—it was a scalpel carving away the old organs of the Sith Empire, replacing them with a newer, quieter machinery. Cleaner. Disguised. And Lirka, for all her brutality, was being offered a place at the table in a new skin.

The Kainate wasn't shedding its nature. It was evolving.

Serina's fingers danced along her screen once more, compiling sentiment, pulling quotes, parsing intent. She shifted her glasses slightly up the bridge of her nose and glanced sidelong across the table toward Ellissanthia, watching her briefly with a flicker of fondness, before returning to her datapad.

She said nothing aloud, but her smile deepened, just a little.

So much for a quiet day.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka could feel something boiling within her as Madelyn Lowe spoke. The brand upon her head itched as the bile of negative emotion surged through Lirka's wretched form. She was thankful to have trained herself well, for the Once-Sephi did as best as she could to not let her indignation appear on her face. Only the vaguest hints of a frown at the edge of her mouth.

Laws, a foul, disgusting notion that stood in opposition to the chaos of Primordial Darkness. The Empire touted such things like it mattered; by the Emperor's decree all of them might as well have been criminals. Repugnant slavers like herself, or accessories to the action. By Lirka's very nature, she was a criminal, it was the underworld in which the foundations for the monster had been created.

Lirka Ka. Slavemaster General, to mere deputy. Lirka could feel her jaw clench, the it felt like the needle-like teeth within her maw threatened to crack under the strain. "if it suited her". The mere thought coaxed her towards the edge of letting this meeting devolve into bloodlust, to reach over and throttle her former, and it seemed now to once again be current, boss till she went limp. That wasn't how it worked. Not here. Not for Lirka. Since the very first day she had sworn herself to Carnifex in the those days of the old Empire, she had been a cudgel, a thing used to bash the Mandalorians into a bloody paste. Now, as the wayward daughter returned, she had been dubbed a Lash: Lirka had made the title into her own, a veneer of pride to hide the reality of it all. Lirka knew she was a weapon, and a weapon did not act on its own - it needed a hand. It was not if it suited her, it was if it suited them. Darth Carnifex , Darth Prazutis If the Dyad deemed that was to be her lot in life, then it would be so.

Her hand tightened on the arm rest, the metal straining against the Once-Sephi's gauntlet. When she spoke, Lirka hid her rage as best she could under the thick mask of her alien accent.

"But of course, Minister Lowe. The Primordial Dark begets transience. Shall it be a partnership as grand as the days of yore."

Under normal circumstances, Lirka rarely uttered anything of her heathen religion on the Malsheem. But this was a special occasion, and the Once-Sephi needed a mantra to center herself. It hadn't been that bad working under the Grand Vizer during her Moff days - but that was a different Lirka. One who hadn't been blessed with the teachings of Rhand, one who hadn't been trapped for nigh thirty years in the middle of nowhere with nothing better to do than to kill and to think.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Madelyn Lowe //: Lirka Ka //: Serina Calis //:
//:Malsheem //:
//: Uniform //:

Something was calming about the Minister allowing the anchoring touch. Allyson was able to quell the visceral screams that stretched and pulled at her mind while they sat close inside the Malsheem. The tightness in her chest loosened, and she was allowed to focus on something else. There was a part of her suddenly aware that the safety of her runes was no longer there. She didn't feel the familiar burning sensation course through the tattoo's outline. Its protection was gone, leaving only a grim reminder that she had once almost fallen.

She hadn't acknowledged Serina's sweet words directed towards her; she was more intrigued by what followed, which was perhaps done involuntarily.

Allyson's eyes caught Madelyn's glance; it was brief, and she continued. She noticed the difference, but she had already known it before Madelyn began addressing the group. While Jorryn could command a crowd, she did so of those lower than herself. The Echani knew how to posture and grandstand her way into the hearts that needed something to look to—someone to guide them. Allyson had seen it many times; it was the same song and dance for the Lord Inquisitor.

Her memory lingered in the back of Allyson's mind. As much as she tried, she was never able to find her—maybe that was the plan. Self-sabotaging was never above Allyson's conscience.

Madelyn continued; Allyson listened carefully, picking up the pieces of her words, letting them cycle in her brain, and comprehending them. Bits of it held suspicions, one being the concept of slavery. Her Master, the Emperor himself, had outlawed slavery; here, a portion of his Empire plotted loopholes.

A hand rested against her chin as she thought quietly. She was conflicted, knowing that as his apprentice, she should alert him over the workings of his Empire, but maybe he already knew. The Sith confused her more so now that she was within the folds. The more she thought, the more she convinced herself it wasn't necessary to discuss. With Madelyn involved, she wanted to avoid the subject till she understood more. Allyson found herself rationalizing it and figuring it closer to a compromise for her position.

She didn't fully understand politics. It was a world outside Allyson's, which often collided almost violently with hers.

As the Minister finished addressing the group, others spoke, but one in particular drew the attention of the Corellian. Beside Madelyn was the woman she had addressed. Lirka Ka, Allyson had heard the name and the reputation through her time in the Empire and in previous iterations of history. Though they never interacted with each other, Allyson knew the danger that came when the once-Selphi had her attention on you. Still, knowing the woman's reputation didn't stop the way the spy's muscles tensed.

Allyson could feel it; she could almost taste the tension that thickened around the former General. She looked towards Lirka as the woman addressed the Minister, who had been so gracious as to offer a way for the slavemaster to continue her duties. Allyson adjusted in the chair, sitting taller, and partially turned towards the elf.

Her eyes never left her, prepared to step in if the creature decided to become a slave to the dark feelings that poured off of her. Allyson's jaw tightened as she continued to watch the slavemaster waiting.

Spoiler: Tags

Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Ellissanthia Nova Ka