The Throne Room [One Sith]

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

Balaya had remained silent and still. The Dark Lord would have acknowledged her in time as he purple eyes watched each moment of it and then he was gone while her aura darkened. She looked at [member="Darth Junra"] and her presence was now expanding outwards. The battlelord powers darkening while she heard the others screaming and she shot her gaze towards [member="Darth Vornskr"] in this with the one at his side [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"].. The silent one getting her attention briefly as the saber started cursing and speaking when it came out. She didn't plan to attack Junra for now.. unless she merited it with something, [member="Silara Vantai"] was there and Balaya was looking at her to see what the girl was going to do while she let the saber speak from her hand. "Well this has been.... interesting." The saber got her ire as she squeezed it... "alright alright lets just kill something." Now she was looking tosee what was going o happen while the voice moves to be in her own section. She looked at the gen'dai goin at her and the purple of her eyes flashed almost as the large battlelord not restricted by her armor was free to bulk, her muscles becoming larger, her veins blackening with darkside energy and ther snap hiss of the blade as a pale pink light came from it. She moved towards Ire and Junra shouting. "Stand down or I shall put you down."

 

[Soeht]

Screams of rage filled the throne room almost immediately. As [member="Silara Vantai"] lamented over the death of the Dark Lord, Daella did not even look up to the woman. She did not yet attempt to answer the woman’s questions. She glanced over to the floor below [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] after her offer to heal.

Yet she would not have the opportunity to answer. A roar echoed through the chambers - before [member="Darth Praelior"] could even ask a kneeling, wounded woman to stand down. It was [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"]’s maddened charge toward her that made Daella raise her head - greeting the crowd before her with a smile.

Death apparently would not be something she would accept in that moment. Before Kezeroth reached her, Daella pushed off her hands and feet to move to the side - almost stumbling in the process. Yet, its purpose was served. The area that Kezeroth charged at had been vacated - except for whether or not Ire’Rain moved out of the way as well.

Heavy breathing still plagued Daella as she brought her body to a stop just a few meters away from Kezeroth. She was hunched over. Hair was draped over her eyes. Behind her was the same gigantic window she stared out of just earlier. The sun had completely set at this point - now only the light of stars and the city pierced through.

Still, no words came from her mouth.

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25t_4Qs2e58

Kezeroths Sensory acuity boomed in his Rage, He had been practicing for so long with the Ability to get to this moment. His chance was gone and his revenge and purpose taken from him by another Sith! No More.. His Tempter boil while enraged and his body emitted a heat as if he were about to explode. His sweat that rolled on his body sizzled and steamed, His Rage was like Fire!

" Too Long Ive watched!" he shouted

With a Slam the Raging monsters blade fell onto contact with the floor, The blade bounce back up and Kezeroth roared again. Taking a hand off his two handed grip Kezeroth Slammed his foot forward Realesing a Strong Force Repulse for any who dared come at him from any other direction. His sensory acuity kept him aware but as for who the Witch [member="Darth Praelior"] was speaking to the Gen'Dai did not know. All he knew was that the Voice of the dead Dark Lord was getting away, Kezeroths Lightclub was long in reach and she had only managed to get few meters away, With a Spin to follow up from the Repulse Kezeroth Slashed at [member="Darth Junra"]'s Location in a Horizontal style. If she would dodge again the monster would reach for a Grab and hurl her across the room.

" For Too long ive Waited!...I Will Burn you all!"

 

[Ire'Rain Sekairo]

CORUSCANT:
The Throne Room: Unknown Time
[member="Darth Junra"], [member="Silara Vantai"], [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"], [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member="Darth Praelior"]
Take Me to Church by Hozier

​

A darkness filled the room. Lightsabers ignited, creatures yelled out at the night, and hearts threatened to stop. Silara screamed, breaking free of her chains. Praelior stepped forth to rein in the others. The Hateful one screeched before charging for revenge. Junra, the Apparine, eased her way out of death's reach. In the midst of the madness stood Ire'Rain. Speed was not her forte. Nor was strength or wits. Any one of those around her could strike her down without a second thought. She knew this to be true. And life had a plan for her to remind her of this, even further then one might deem necessary. Once more everything slowed for the girl. Flashes of light caught her attention. One extended into a blade, swinging, rushing down, heading for her, sure to reach its target. She panicked, pulled back, tried to spin away. The weapon hissed as it reached her skin. Swears left her in inappropriate droves. There was a little thud as what remained of her left hand hit the floor. None of it could be successfully recovered. Ire bit down hard on her lip in an attempt to distract herself. All the while she moved back, stepping away from the fight. Darth Praelior's words were unneeded. This was not the near-human's fight. At this point she would stay away from the conflict unless pulled back in- or if her Master commanded her. Oh, how jealous her heart was, oh how she longed to be free of her chains. As Silara now was. With a snarl she let herself add darkness to the room. She radiated an anger, a disgust fit for a war-mongering, xenophobic Zambrano. Oh, how Kaine had changed her. How things had spun so completely out of control. If anyone besides her horrible Master approached her, she would unleash as much power as she could manage. Which, compared to the others present, meant very, very little.

"There are to many fools here for my liking..." Ire mumbled, only now looking at her stump. She decided then that at some point she would kill the hateful Gendai. It was the thing she now desired most. Revenge. But for now she turned to Darth Vornskr, and then his old apprentice, Balaya. "I am... at your command." In her mind she added 'for now' and 'regrettably'. Her facial expression did not betray her. To all she appeared as nothing more than a 'mildly' pissed off Epicanthix. As it was supposed to be.

 

[Onrai]

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

The claps would seem to come from throughout the citadel's room, resonating perfectly throughout the overarching structure of the building. It would seem as though it were an echo, a prim and proper harmonious resonating in the Dark Side that made mirrors tremble, glass vibrating on the cusp of destruction - and yet, it was not over. One who had watched the events that had just proceeded chose this particular moment to finally make her presence known.

The enigmatic figure doffed her hood as she dispelled the cloak surrounding her, pale skin and black hair supporting devilish green orbs scanning the room. It was very rare that she involved herself in Sith business, particularly since she had business to work on, but what happened here would determine the fate of both the One Sith and the Sith as a whole. Were they to fall to chaos , the Republic would certainly capitalize in order to reclaim its territory.

"So it's come to this." Circe's first words were almost cliched as she eyed everyone in the room, constantly scanning back and forth for the slightest sign of a fight beginning(sans Kezeroth's attack, of course). "One Dark Lord dies, and none of you are prepared. The house of cards begins to crumble with the slip of the top triangle. Did any of you gave preparations in place for the event that he became deceased? Or was this chaotic crumbling pre-ordained for the death of this galactic power?" Such was an intriguing point she made, as neither Silara not Alicia had mentioned anything about a successive hierarchy. There wasn't even a hydra methodology.

"The time has come to determine a new Dark Lord. Failing that, a new form of leadership. We are all one Sith - but some must lead, lest we degenerate into a mob of feral tribals at one another's throats, squabbling amongst ourselves while the Republic consumes us." She stared permeatingly into the eyes of all who were there.

"Any suggestions?"

 

[Soeht]

There was little time for Daella to gather her breath. Due to the long reach of [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"]’s lightsaber, he was already on the attack without having to move much closer to the woman. With a single blink, both her eyes reignited into an orange ember in her irises. The purple blade of her lightsaber reignited.

As Kezeroth’s lightsaber rushed for her, Daella lifted it up to the side in a vertical position with her hands at the top and the tip of the blade pointing to the floor. As his blade came into contact, Daella’s knees bent. There was a little resistance against the Gen’Dai’s strike, but overall not enough to bring his blade to a stale. Instead, Daella kept her blade in contact with Kezeroth’s as she lowered her body toward the ground. Her blade would rotate as her hands came down with her.

Overall, it was as quick as Kezeroth’s slash. The momentum of it continued past Daella. Eventually, Daella’s blade left Kezeroth’s now with the tip pointing toward the ceiling and her hilt below the blade. She took several almost stumbling steps back after her parry just out of the reach of Kezeroth’s lightsaber range.

With just a second, Daella glanced around the room. She saw the damage Kezeroth had already caused as [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"]’s severed left hand laid lifelessly on the floor. Her mouth opened as if should was about to attempt to speak, yet again no words sprang forth.

Desperate, Daella released her left hand’s grip from her lightsaber and threw the lightsaber out toward Kezeroth. Purple-pink arcs of Force lightning then spewed forth from Daella's left hand. The majority of the Force lightning rushed toward Kezeroth. Some arcs flew off in random directions around the room - such as toward [member=Enigma] and [member="Darth Praelior"].

 

[Ire'Rain Sekairo]

CORUSCANT:
The Throne Room: Unknown Time
[member="Darth Junra"], [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"]
Goodbye for Now by Two Steps From Hell

​

It was an odd feeling. One she couldn't help but resent. A feeling of loss, of hopelessness. Worse was the fact that she wanted to... help. Part of her wished to join the rush of combat. Her blade, her heart, ached to strike at the Hateful one. Pieces of her mind longed to reach out, to touch Daella's, to soothe it. To lend the woman her strength. Yet she knew that doing so would make her enemies. What would Vornskr say? Would he punish her, kill her? There was also the matter of the others. But she couldn't just stand there and watch. Not while there were things she could get done. One the outside she frowned. Energy danced across the fingertips of her right hand as she reached for the stub of her left. Oh, how she was in pain. Losing part of a limb was a terrible experience. Yet she didn't wince, nor did she mutter any more swears, and she did not let any more of a frown grace her face. Instead she worked quietly. Faint traces of blue light swirled around her arm as she did her best to heal the injury. Her hand would not be recovered. But the threat of infection was reduced, the pain had started to subside, her arm stopped trembling. This was far from over. Ire did not deny that. Emotions flowed throughout her, irritating her to no end. Today Junra had found herself with a new ally- of sorts. One must, of course, wonder how long she'd be around to witness it. If Kezeroth had his way... it would not be long.

With a mental sigh she pushed the thought away. As always, there was work to be done. Tasks to be accomplished. Enemies to be beaten down. Almost anyone looking at her would see someone doing their best to heal themselves. They'd see a woman awaiting further orders. Inside that karked up head of hers a far different situation would be found. Willpower, strength, and seeds of emotions were gathering in the center of her being. Combined with the force they could accomplish a lot. Slowly Ire built it up, doing her best to mask the energy, as Circe had been teaching her. Then she used it. Without as much as a simple warning she turned her focus on Daella. What strength the Epicanthix had left was attempting to aid the other woman. Fill her up, perhaps begin to heal some of her wounds, lend power to her attacks. A secondary rush went to assist her when the dark-haired shortie noticed her 'mother'. Enigma. The woman's presence brought her a sense of peace. Of renewed passion. 'Twas then that she let the smallest grin grace her features. It lasted but a moment. As always. As it was supposed to be.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Darth Carach watched and waited.

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

The Monsterous Gen'Dai thought only Inward, He could not fail! The Womans parry was sloppy but yet its preformed against his strike Excellently. His blade flowed with the movements and flowed with the combat. The parry left him in a odd position, He stood facing forward but his torso was torqued to the right from the parry, His Lightclub gripped with one hand and his off hand by his belt. The woman stumbled back and Kezeroth could feel her heart beat within, it was strong for her. The Womans body spoke of otherwise though. Kezeroth was sure he would have his revenge within the next strike but he could not give it out.

[member="Darth Junra"]'s Lightsaber Left her hand and Lightning burst forth shortly after that, Managing to reflect the thrown blade with his own Kezeroth snarled and roared once he released his Positioning. Realesing his own Lightclub and tossing it back toward [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] direction, the Gen'Dai threw his hands infront of him calling the Force to Provide a Barrier around him. The Lightning slammed against the invisible wall that protected him crackling and snapping around him. His Teeth gnashed and his Eyes still glowed Red with Force Rage, combined with Force Barrier he found himself worried. He could not hold out forever against the Electric onslaught and still continue with both abilities active. Stuck in the conflict Kezeroths mind wandered worried about the end, secretly he wanted more he wanted to be used by the dark side more he refused to let this be his end.

Force Rage afforded him much and his constant use and practice with his gave him added endurance when it wore off, At his longest and only using his Saber skills with the ability he was known to have enough energy to throw himself into another Rage, But this was not just saber combat. Kezeroth could feel his Rage draining from the strain of holding both and he needed to fuel himself more! And so he Dropped the Barrier and accepted the pain of the Lightning, It was true sith lightning indeed. His Flesh charred and transformed along his chest and arms that covered his face. His Rage stayed constant for the moment of pain and in his Electric suffering Kezeroth Let out a Scream of pain, Carried on the Force it stabbed painfully at the Ears of those around him and in the room and bounced about. Loud and damaging Pressure from the sound continued to build intill the window gave way and shattered letting the horrid scream escape into the surface of Coruscant.


" Aaaaarrrrrgggghhhh!!!"

 

[Hailey Sosis]

As the dark lord was struck, harley and other acolytes stood up. It was moment of confusion, no one knew what was going to happen. Some acolytes ran to dark lord side, some ran to [member="Darth Junra"] side as she may be stronger. Soon there would a fight to death, and acolytes were choosing sides. Harley and few others stayed back, as they smarter. If they joined a side know they would no doubt be killed. If they waited just a moment, their chances of survival increased. As the sith lords and knight would wasted some of their energy, on each other, and disposing on the foolhardy acolytes. She could sense which acolytes around her thinking of joining, they could not sense her thoughts however. This boon and a problem, as one hand they had no idea what she planning. On other side it made them paranoid. She was also worried about them turning on her, for this very reason. She lit up her lightsaber, and made sure no one was behind her. She was going choose her side, very carefully and try time it right. Otherwise she just be another dead acolyte, and she did not want to be dead.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She was quiet when she swept in to the room, the smell of blood - death; galvanizing, a catalyst of a death - as appropriate a backdrop as any to the scene playing out in front of her.

Some faces she knew and others were unfamiliar (and one, a presence she knows, ancient and quiet, that she should of expected even if it surprises her anyway). She'd fought among them on Alderaan, pushed back a wave of Jedi, even clashed with Ashin Varanin on their behalf. She appreciated the waves they made. And yet none of those were her reason for being here.

She was here because he had called, reaching through space.

She observed much as he did when she came to stand by [member="Darth Carach"]'s side.

 

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

Balaya looked at all the ones who had come out of the woodwork now as she spoke her blade going to her hip. "The moment that title is claimed we will have already lost. We'll devolve back into the scheming and feuds that divided us. You'll scheme against each other and waste resources while the enemies of the sith gather to attack. I refuse to lower myself and will move towards the goal we had of burning the Republic." She moved now muscles returning to normal and eyes bypassing the other before leaving the room.

 

[Hailey Sosis]

As [member="Darth Praelior"] spoke she found herself agreeing with her, it was turf war on galactic scale. Only united gang ever won turf wars, with that she rushed to dark lords side, to protect him from further harm. As she ran she used the force to grab, a bacta pack from one the near by troopers. She shoved it into him, before standing guard. This was last chance to save the sith, from themselves. She stood ready to fight, if he regained his strength good. If he took over anothers body, like did to [member="Ordo"] that mandalorian so be it. This would buy him time, this also may her last moments on the planet. She made her bed know, and know she was going to lay init.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Order collapsed around her, fighting broke out, and hatred bloomed. She had never acted on impulsive rage, not out of control but of fear of the consequences - and her fears had always been justified by the foolish actions made by those around her, [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"] being the most prime of examples at the moment. He, a mere knight of the order, dared to strike out against their Sith Lords, but who were they for her to respect? Why did she follow them? Junra was vulnerable, and it was well within the Sith ideology for any to strike her down for showing such weakness. Then there was Vornskr, whom stood with purpose and never seemed to falter. She'd crossed him once, unintentionally, by carrying out a superior's request to align the Sith with the Ravens - it did not take long for her to regret that meeting and condemn the Ravens at a later date for their pettiness. When [member="Enigma"] entered the room, her applause unwelcome and unwanted, Silara only fumed more. Right before her eyes she watched everything she knew begin to collapse. For once in her miserable life she did not know what she should do. The only thing she knew was that the mad dog, Kezeroth, needed to be put down.

Lightning arced out from Junra's hands and struck the invisible wall that surrounded Kezeroth, and she watched in disbelief as he continued to struggle in vain to strike down the Sith Lord. It was at that moment, in that minute of vulnerability between two parties, that she acted. Never for Order, nor for Chaos, not for herself, not any other, Silara considered herself a tool for the sake of evil, for the sake of the Dark Side, and while her actions often seemed naive and foolish, it was a method she had employed to remain being considered a nobody in the eyes of many. She moved her hands to her sides and retrieved her two sabers, the Lignan saber in her right and the Opila in her left. "Do you feel rage, beast? Such angst, such petty frustration. You have no purpose, you hold no worth." Silara said, her grip tightening around two sabers as she stepped slowly towards Kezeroth, ignoring the bursts of lightning that ricocheted away from the duel and struck columns beside her and missed her by a hair's breadth. "You are not a Sith, not that it matters. You've proven yourself unfit to live, so turn and face one who can fight, because I am going to rip that miserable tongue from your lips and give you a true reason to hate." She hissed, igniting her sabers with flick of her wrists, releasing a shower of sparks as the tips of the two struck against the floor on either side of her. With an upward, flippant, gesture of her right hand she released a push through the force to knock away the saber that Kezeroth had thrown to [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] and sighed. "Such a pathetic creature." She muttered with a scowl.

Spoiler: @Mentions

• [member="Darth Junra"], [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member="Darth Ayra"], [member="Darth Carach"], [member="Darth Praelior"], [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Reverance"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Vornskr watched all of the events transpire with an impassioned look upon his face, his eyes taking in all that had begun to transpire around him. The death of the Dark Lord, and the utter chaos that had erupted in it's wake only spoke more of the immaturity of the current generation of One Sith currently present in the room. He was faintly aware of others who, like he, remained back and observed the ongoing struggle and nonsense half with curiosity to see where this all would lead, and half with anticipation. His mind was already a whirlwind of thoughts and contemplation about what to do about their current predicament, and while he would rather let these rabble fight themselves to death to weed out the weak, he had to make a display of his power and authority in this leader-less moment. His gaze quickly transfixed on another Voice of the Dark Lord in the chamber, and as a silent understanding passed between himself and [member="Darth Carach"], a deathly rictus grin split his face into the ugly visage of a murderer.

Turning his attention now to the one who had started all of this chaos in the first place, the battered and weakened [member="Darth Junra"], so drawn into her short conflict with the monstrous beast known as [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"]. He cast another second-long glance back at Carach, and then they begin to silently consolidate their powers together as the fighting and arguing continued onward. Their mental abilities and prowess, considerable when on their own, now began to meld together towards Junra as they exacted their own executive decision on what should be done. A bold move, one would say, but in this trying time there had to be individuals who took a firm stance on the actions of traitors. Vornskr and Carach's power would soon be further amplified by another's, [member="Matsu Xiangu"], and with the three of their powers combined, they lashed out to smite the traitor's mind.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

The current actions displayed by the riffraff assembled in the throneroom was a sign, an underlining of the very nature of what it meant to be a Sith. The nation had been silently built under the distinct belief that all were equal under the Dark Lord, with the Hands and the Voices of the Dark Lord first and foremost amongst them, this concept had been clearly working - because for the longest time the new Sith were doing what the old Empire had not been able to do.

It had been destroying the Republic, fighting and vying over control planet by planet, through it all they had been winning. But here laid the weakness of this system, the moment the Dark Lord, the entity who had bind everyone together for one purpose, had fallen so had the concept, as a house of cards it was already threatening to collapse into itself.

There was a distinct part of the Sith Lord that wished for it to be so, to leave this room right now and not look back, to let them fight amongst themselves and let them fall once and for all. This part was quickly persuaded to rejoin with the common consensus though, which stipulated that the One Sith were too valuable - at least for the time being - to discard as easily.

And so they came to the most important part of this puzzle. The one thing that nothing, no matter how much words you would spent on it, could change.

[member="Darth Junra"] was a traitor.

Underneath the Dark Lord were his Voices and Hands.

When one of them was led astray it fell to the others to fix the matter, this was an universal truth and the only thing that would allow them to remain the First Among Equals. Because that was the foundation of the position, an extension of the Will of the Dark Lord - at this point it didn’t matter what Darth Carach’s personal opinion was, it didn’t matter if he wanted to try and take the title for himself, or help someone else take it in his stead.

What mattered was that one of them had betrayed the rest, and if equilibrium was ever to be restored then Junra would have to die. All would have to witness the consequences of betrayal. This realization had come in mere seconds, as the madness went on.

Darth Carach’s eyes swept over the room and noticed a few things. He noticed [member="Darth Praelior"] leaving the room, abandoning her duty to the Dark Lord, instead of exacting Justice upon the murderer. He noted [member="Silara Vantai"]’s commitment to fight [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"], a misguided creature and yet… the only one who had decided to fight the traitor Voice, his reasons were his own.

What’s more he noticed the Harley running to their Dark Lord, trying to supply help in the form of bacta, the Voice of the Dark Lord noted the presence of his own Hand, in the form of [member="Matsu Xiangu"], he observed the appearance of a Schutta and her hellion friend.

Carach marked this all down and then… then his eyes met [member="Darth Vornskr"], a Voice who had decided to stay still for a moment and contemplate the situation, not unlike himself, the Black Iron Tyrant broke eye contact, looking to Junra and then back at him. It seemed that his fellow Voice had the same inclination in this situation and because of this Carach finally allowed one smile, to answer Vornskr’s and then a nod.

Agreement.

The Tyrant’s power flowed through the room, a maelstrom coursing through space and offering itself to Carach, he pulled it into himself, while settling his hand on Xiangu’s shoulder. A request for aid.

Three Mentalists Masters against the Mind of a Traitor.

And so Carach directed the storm against [member="Darth Junra"]’s mind, this all in an attempt to break her mind as a showcase to the rest of the Sith.

 

[Onrai]

Some of the lightning evacuated from Junra's palms skittered across the air towards Circe - who raised a hand, accepting its energy into her palm for as long as it continued to arc. Such was beneficial for her, to say the least. She was glad to not directly be involved in the conflict occurring here - but as barbarism descended into chaos and madness, she could only watch and defend herself from whatever actions would attempt to involve her. Unlike [member="Darth Praelior"], she preferred to see what directions this would follow.

Force, I hope this doesn't turn into what I think it does.

[member="Darth Junra"] [member="Darth Carach"] [member="Darth Vornskr"] [member="Silara Vantai"] [member="Reverance"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Harley"] [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"] [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She was, for the most part, removed from the bickering and immediate groping for the vacant space left by the former Dark Lord. Those around her were members of an organization she’d given blood for, had fought for and she felt disgust flit across her mind – this wasn’t the One Sith she’d fought for then: a group that had organized themselves for the sake of keeping order but at heart had one goal and stood shoulder to shoulder. Against their nature, to be sure. But it was important for the Galaxy at large at least for now. Some seemed to understand that, to defend what they’d sworn themselves to. The rest she promptly forgot.

And her mere presence in the throne room was proof of her commitment to loyalty – she’d been called, she’d come. Perhaps not for what was about to unfold, but no one had anticipated the day's events either. As a Sith betrayal was in her blood, but some things were larger, some commitments deeper than what had occurred here.

She needed no provocation when she felt the hideous dead-skin slither of Vornskr’s power pressing out in to the room to search for theirs. Carach’s touch amplified her connection and she added her power to their storm – iciness, a sharpness to the judgment that she helped collect and press outwards. Each on their own was formidable – tripled, a silent force of nature bound by their intent. She imagined a searing point of pressure, the edges burning, smoke curling in lazy worship to the dead as Junra’s mind might...smoked like her clothes, her hair.

Spoiler

[member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Darth Junra"] | [member="Reverance"] | [member="Silara Vantai"] | [member="Darth Praelior"] | [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"] | [member="Harley"] | [member="Enigma"]

 

[Caulder Dune]

[member="Enigma"]

"Yes, I would like to proffer a suggestion, if that's all the same to you." Said Darth Janus, who had probably been there for a while but had chosen not to say or do anything up until now.

Fortunately, he felt no strong loyalty to the Dark Lord (enigmatic, tiresome fellow that he was) and no particular malice towards Junra, so he opted not to join that impending dog-pile. The people Darth Janus had opinions of were relatively few in number. For instance, there were two here at present that he felt any meaningful sense of respect for and only one that he utterly, thoroughly despised. If not for her incompetence, then perhaps her proclivity for molestation. And if not for that either, it was surely the fact that she was here- trespassing in the affairs of a government she had never had anything to do with on any meaningful level.

"I suggest you leave." His words dripped with derision and venom. "And I also suggest you find the time to expel whatever warped thoughts normally occupy your addled mind so that you can, perhaps, recall you are not a part of the One Sith and have no business here."

How very strange that each time Darth Janus said "suggest" it sounded less and less like he was suggesting something and more like demanding it.

 

[Reverance]

Bickering, infighting, dogs jumping at the bone tossed away by the master. Gabriel couldn't help but feel the slightest hint of disgust, especially in those who chose to assist the fallen Darth Junra. Sure, she had been wounded, and sure, Gabriel chose not to inflict the final wound against her. But everything, everything inside of him, felt that perhaps she deserved every bit of anger that was aimed towards her. This was a solid faction, a group unapologetic and driven. And now look at it, her saber managed to do far more than cut the Dark Lord of the Sith down. It managed to strike holes throughout this group, causing derision in the place of strength and unity. The Sith were one for a time, but no one would know of it from this showing. And in the corner of his eye, his crimson gaze shifted upon her in unnoticeable surprise. He didn't afford her anymore then a wayward glance, the same given to all those who were in the room, but his mind drifted and distraction further intensified as her powers began to culminate with two others into an attack against [member="Darth Junra"]: [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Darth Carach"], [member="Darth Vornskr"]. All seemingly powerful in their own right and against the three melded together in such ways, doubts lied with any who could claim resistance for long.

He blinked as he looked upon the room, some choosing to leave, some choosing a side, and some choosing indifference. He smiled as he pushed away from the wall and in but a blink, he was across the room and next to the fallen dark lord, force speed turning the vision of him into but a instant transportation of corporeal form. [member="Harley"] was standing guard, ready to defend the dead as if it served purpose. She could try against Gabriel, but she would find herself the target of his wrath, a place she wouldn't want to linger in for long, especially in such volatile conditions. And he had no desire to fight, not when so much pain could be accomplished with so little effort. Giving her but a single gesture, he scooted past her and knelt next to the corpse, rolling it over on to it's back. Placing a hand against the Voss forehead, the Arkanian felt the coldness of the body, the absence of the power within, and the foreclosure of potential. Things would change, he thought, they had to. And perhaps somewhere between now and then, he would have to cut down some who stood defiantly. Perhaps Darth Junra, if she survived this attack as it was, or perhaps [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"] for his defiance now, his move to create further conflict in the wake of desperate action was a vile and putrid thing. With a clutch of the cloth against the Dark Lords chest, Gabriel lifted the man effortlessly and walked the few steps towards the throne, placing him into his seat. The deceased landed in a rigid and leaning slump, looking with those dead eyes against the combatants of the room. Who would claim the throne now, Gabriel wondered. A matter of decency, though the memory of his power would soon fade in the echoes of children bickering over their share, the parcels of land divided unevenly. Gabriel respected the slain individual, his presence and the goals he completed, it was something to behold. All ended with the deception of a violet blade. He mourned the loss of that chance, the chance to face this being in true combat. With a turn of the head, Gabriel walked down the steps and approached the broken window, torn to pieces in the rage of those unable to control themselves.

"Pathetic..." He hissed the words in an accusatory whisper, as he shifted his arms behind his back, waiting for the subsidence of the waves now rippling outward. He was not the sort to claim leadership. But he hated just as well. And he raged. But most of all, he judged. And now, among this group, he found attributes lacking. He expected much and was shown very little. His mind drifted as he ate of the force, of the torment that would soon be endured by Darth Junra with the promise of euphoria to come. Of that, he found satisfaction, an action met with reaction. The natural order of those with the power to do something.