The Throne Room [One Sith]

[Ire'Rain Sekairo]

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

​

Oh, how she was angry. Here she had come, to watch, to listen, to learn. Now petty people squabbled over the death of one of their leaders. It was easy for her to realize her Master was working against her. Directly against Junra, and therefore, by extension, against her. Sorrow threatened to crawl into her heart. Defiance would grant her a swift death. That much was certain. But it did not yet appear like anyone had noticed her actions. Good. Continuing to help her fellow woman would prove to be futile. Her, against three Masters?... It would be pathetic. So after one last push of strength she turned away. Now she worked visibly, for the others to see. With the force her left arm grabbed onto the Gen'Dai's thrown lightsaber, handed it to her right, and clipped it to her belt. This was to be a trophy for her. Silently she then turned from defensive to offensive. All of this fighting was starting to bore her. Somehow. Perhaps that would change when she joined the fray once more. Perhaps. Ire'Rain gathered up her emotions, drawing some from those around her, moving her hand (and stump) around in circles, bringing the energy into a sphere. It wasn't visible to the eye. Of course. Soon she started to shift even faster. Both arms whirled about, tracing out the edge of the force. Previously lavender eyes now seemed to glow a wrathful orange. However the right was far darker than the left. As it had always been. As it should always be.

"Stand down! Let your betters handle this, foolish beast!" Ire yelled at the Hateful one. His 'betters' referring to Vornskr, the Lord of Pain, Matsu, and Carach. There were likely others here stronger than him as well. That did not matter to her. These were those whom she admired the most at the moment. Gods, lend me thy strength, she thought before unleashing the force upon her enemy. Kezeroth had been trying to strike down the traitor... but he was now striking out against multiple beings. Those around her would find reason in her actions. She wished to cease the combat, to let those with actual knowledge sort these things out. Which was why she aimed to force push him into the ground. To fill his thoughts with all the demons she saw. To cause confusion, to terrorize him, to immobilize the beast. To crush him. Surely her power combined with Silara's was enough to defeat the monster. It had to be.

​{OOC Note: Names are bolded for convenience of those mentioned.}

 

[Soeht]

Eventually, Daella’s Force lightning managed to get past [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"]’s barrier and nip at the beast’s flesh. Even if Kezeroth threw down the barrier at his own volition, Daella kept up the onslaught in hopes of burning the Gen’Dai to death.

Yet before long, Kezeroth unleashed a might roar. The room shook as the glass windows surrounding the throne room shattered. When the window behind Daella broke, a gust of wind sucked the shards out due to the differential pressure. Daella slipped backwards a bit. The distraction broke her concentration and Force lightning ceased to spew from her fingertips.

At that point, Daella seemed to just barely be standing. She was close to the edge of the window yet did not have the power to move away at that very moment. There was now a ring in her ears. She saw [member="Silara Vantai"] standing against Kezeroth. Though Daella could hardly hear the Sith Knight, she focused on reading Silara’s lips to understand the words coming from the Sith Knight’s mouth.

Whispers began to build within Daella’s mind - those which only she could hear. Her smile grew wider as she quickly realized the source of this. Even as she remained hunched over - broken and weaponless - before a monster, she looked over to [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Darth Carach"], and [member="Darth Vornskr"].

It had been a while since a Sith attempted to assault her mind - if one ignored the Dark Lord’s supposed possession of her during the Battle of Empress Teta. In fact, such a thing last occurred in memory during her fight against Karin Dorn. Though the magnitude of such assault now increased by threefold, it was still very similar to the deceased Sith’s attack.

A mind could be fragile, yet Daella’s seemingly was never such a thing. How much the Dark Lord had shielded her mind would be tested today. There were also many ways in which a mind could break. One could lose themselves in fear or madness. One might find themselves unable to tell the difference between reality and their own illusions. One could always feel unconquerable grief due to their actions of the past. All possible through the Force and have been done plenty times before on different subjects.

Knowing this, Daella listened to the maddened cacophony that played in her mind with the vague goal of breaking it. Hardly poignant as what Darth Wyyrlok attempted against Darth Krayt ages ago. Yet, it was nothing to dismiss entirely as Daella remained still before Kezeroth rather than press any attack or move to a more advantageous position.

 

[Darth Ayra]

Darth Ayra remained still. Her hood was still raised. Her arms were still at her sides and her eyes still kept watching. She made no movement and said nothing. Not even to great the enigma, Circe Savan, as she entered the room, nor Silara Vantai, who she had courted on Sojourn.

She just stood by and watched in the corner. Her motives could not be sensed in the Force and her movements could not be read, for she had not moved or said anything.

Patience was a virtue.

 

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

[With the vote going how it is for now setup]

Palace Basement

Balaya stood as she looked around, the excitement of the moment wasn't lost on some of the sith who were looking up and feeling things. She pushed itaside while walking deeper into the basement and bringing a hand over the light. Elara stood next to her as the harsh lights came on and the apprentice remembered this area it was where she had taken the girl as her apprentice and prepared something for Hel.. a spirit but the vessel had remained unused and sealed away in a cryo pod as Balaya input the codes and it slowly came up. Fashioned like the crbonite army Isolda had led them to the voice slowly started getting it open and pushed the darkside into the body as the frost came away from he hair bringing her attention. A smile curled her lips as Balaya knelt down taking it out and getting it clothed.

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

Charred, Burnt and steaming. The putrid smell of burning flesh riddled the air of the Throne Room, There Kezeroth stood, his Already Pale Flesh now darker and mutated even more. Lightning ceased, the Scream had worked to his advantage. The Fresh air of coruscant blew in the Room making the smell slightly better, Kezeroth looked down at [member="Darth Junra"] his eyes had returned to the sulfuric state and the bloody glow had subsided. His Force Rage was over but his body and tension said other wise, Flexing his chest and arms he grunted and some burnt flesh crumbled and fell off. Gazing at the woman Kezeroth held a stern look and spat infront of her, he was disgusted by her actions. Taking his revenge from him...

" Why! Tell me why! Why did you murder him!" The Gen'Dai realesed some emotations and embraced them, a wave of different emotions was shown as he continued. " 1500 Years of Sith Torture, Experimentation and..." He was interrupted when he was hit with what it knew as Force Push from behind that brought him to one knee. Rolling his eyes and feeling the demoralization of his mind he started to chuckle some. " What do you know of Torment.. What do any of you know of Pain!" he gazed around the room at everyone his eyes stuck on [member="Reverance"]'s figure, the Lord of Pain. His title was earned but the Gen'Dai's pain could not be compared to anyone's. " Ha ha!.. What do you know of Demons? Girl." Kezeroth's mind was already broken he was plagued with the beginning of Insanity, Multipule personalities and Sanity out of sight. He Mind lashed back at [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"]'s mental attack sharing his Nightmarish memories of his past with her in a flash of pain. During the Conflict Kezeroth had heard [member="Silara Vantai"] Walk and ignite her blades, even in his rage his instincts did not fail him, He kept a sharp feel for her movements but ignored her words. One Sith as he knew was broken, Parts of the Throne Room completely destroyed and his own body smoking, his vision was complete. He had brought more chaos and enjoyed its results.

With a sigh Kezeroth turned around and walked to the side of [member="Darth Junra"] giving him a view of everyone in the room, She wasn't worth it. Deep down he was angry that he did not get to strike down the Emperor, In truth he should of been thanking her and assisting her but his blind ambition had gotten the better of him. His mind was cleared as he thought his actions over in his head. It was as if through his eyes you could see every motion he did and felt as he stood their in Reflection of himself. Body healing over the burns slowly Kezeroth spouted air from his nose. His Rage was gone and his body calmed but yet his eyes glinted with a different intent.

 

[Ire'Rain Sekairo]

CORUSCANT:
The Throne Room: Unknown Time
[member="Darth Junra"], [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"], [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member="Reverance"], [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Darth Carach"]
No Remorse for the Wicked; Petty Squabbles Version by R.A.N.

​

A sudden realization nearly knocked her over. By the Gods, she was exhausted. When was the last time she had been this tired?... Even her sparring matches with other acolytes had never left her like this. Perhaps it was because she had, if only for a few moments, tried to stand against the power of three Mentalist Masters. Almost all of her strength had gone to Junra. What remained had just been launched at the monster. At least it appeared as if the worst of the conflict was over. But she did not falter. No, she would not show the weakness she felt. It would not be allowed. Not until everything that needed doing was done. Even when the Hateful one lashed out, all she did to show her reaction was close her eyes. She looked to be in thought. On the inside Ire let him show her his past. Let him tell his story better than the fleeting marks across his flesh ever could. When the tale had been spun... she cautiously stepped forward, moving closer to Daella and her former attacker. There was a glint of interest in her eyes. "Of demons... I know much. But you, petty beast, know far more. You know their touch. Their rage, their anger, the shine of their blades. You have felt their worst, their best, their casual stings. And through it... they are all you've ever been. You are the demons who tore you down. You are what you hate." She smirked slightly, though it appeared more like a scowl. For a moment she paused. Then she turned to look at her Master. At his allies. Matsu, Carach, Vornskr, Pain. All capable of so much good, of so much evil, of whatever they wanted. They were almost like Gods amonst mortals. "Look at your betters, beast. Turn your gaze to those who could dispose of you with ease. They are far more than demons. More than monsters. They hold power that you've only ever dreamed of. Now listen to them. Do as they say. If you do well... one day you'll be more than a crazed chunk of meat. And you will have the revenge you crave. But do not overestimate yourself- or how easy it is to let anger throw you into the abyss." With that she continued forward to stand closer to the window. Silently she stared out, subconsciously nursing her wound with one hand. Now she waited. Quietly reserved the last of her power, waiting for something, for Vornskr to ask a task of her, for Kezeroth to strike again, for Daella to do something. For the world to acknowledge that she had accomplished anything, anything at all, on this day. Her eyes flicked to the side, looking at the smiling blonde, wondering if what she had done had helped at all. Knowing she had failed this day Ire turned back to face Coruscant. Dust of the world blew about her feet. The wind whispered to her.

And her robe rustled.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Theme: No Jesus Christ by Seether

Spoiler

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsqiZyMxvhM[/media]

Everyone here, ever last one of these fiendish fools, they sought to take it away from her. They sought to strip her of her rights. They conspired with each other, they plotted behind closed doors, and sneered as she passed with one singular goal in mind. They kept her from meeting her Lord and Savior, and now they sought to take away her chance for vengeance, to keep her from her goal. She couldn't blame them, either. Who was she? She was nobody, an outcast even among her nomadic people, a traitor in her own home and slayer of her parents. She'd harbored a sister and lied to her face of their fate, tricked her into becoming an unwitting slave to her manipulations. She'd lied to Circe and told her she'd loved her, given an account of her passionate love, which was truly owed to one person and one person only. None in this world or the next would she ever devote more of her obsessed, passionate, twisted love on than the Dark Lord himself. If there was one to kill Junra, it would be she, and not for some petty griefs - no, she would kill the wench and present her as a trophy to the Dark Lord once he had risen, once she had brought him back, even if it meant giving her own body as a vessel for the great Sith Lord. And this wild beast, this fething madman, he knew not whom he was messing with. She flicked her left hand and the saber was deactivated, her eyes set as she lowered her head and scowled with the scorn only a woman could give.

No sooner had she deactivated the saber in her right hand did she force the telepathic message into the man's head. In a single, fluid, movement she pushed both of her sabers back into her belt on either side of her and raised her hands with an upward push, releasing a telekinetic push through the force at the chest of [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"] both as a threat and as a means of removing him from the immediate proximity to the former Voice. Once this was all settled she would allow the others their piece, give them their time to make decisions, but for now she was on a path to destiny - her own destiny. A smirk reached her lips as she approached, her hands slowly lowering to her hips while she focused on [member="Darth Junra"]. She had respected her, seen her as one of two worthy of her praise, a true and formidable Sith Lord, but she had never truly known the weakness and faults that ran through her pathetic, feeble, mind. Never once had she guessed that the Dark Lord's apprentice would have even the faintest glimmer of light within her, and now she stood while the Sith Lord fell. Certainly not to her own power, but it was still a moment of clarity for the Knight. Never again would she trust. Never again would she believe in another, only in herself. The Dark Side, and by proxy the Dark Lord, were the only ones whom she would allow into her sanctuary, into her world of nightmares and death. Fear ruled her mind in inverse, in that she knew of it only because she experienced it through other's eyes. And now she would make Junra experience such pains, such fear and raw emotion, that while she lay helpless it would be then that she understood the moment she had failed not only herself but also in being a Sith. She, Darth Junra, the Dark Lord's former apprentice and his former Voice, was the greatest pretender, and it would please her no more than to rid the galaxy and the force of her taint. Even if it meant binding her soul to her own.

Spoiler: @Mentions

• [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member="Darth Carach"], [member="Darth Praelior"], [member="Darth Junra"], [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Harley"], [member="Reverance"], [member="Enigma"], [member="Darth Ayra"], [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Darth Vornskr"] [member="Darth Junra"]

It mattered little if one’s mind was fragile or if it was strong, not when you were being targeted by three Sith Lords whose speciality was mentalism, extracting information, planting it, causing severe pain, making one see things that weren’t there, or simply the art of breaking one’s mind through the application of enough force.

This wasn’t as crude as stabbing someone in the back with a lightsaber, not as bland as throwing lightning all over the place in the hope of catching some unguarded flesh, clearly it wasn’t as unfocused as the later, or as easy as the former.

By all means it was an abstract method, where one’s perspective and thoughts on the matter counted as much as the intention one was trying to push.

But to illustrate what was happening, one could simply picture a vise and Junra’s mind at the very center of it. Surrounding her mind was the collective power of three Sith Lords who were pressing against her mind, against her walls, against any defenses she could possibly muster.

It would take all the concentration she had not to break against such a pressure, while also having to focus on defending her physical body.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

It could hardly be expected that the likes of Darth Junra would possess no defense against a mental attack. After all, Matsu had never met the woman herself but she knew her reputation, heard the stories of her connection to the core of the One Sith. Every person in that room was even more well-acquainted with her. They knew the risks, the kind of power they were attempting to circumvent.

So the resistance she felt wasn't surprising. It made her determined.

To continue the visual of walls - a shield, protection learned the hard way by possession and the exercise of playing host to the Dark Lord - Matsu let her third of the power fan out over the steel of Junra's protection, a rattle-snake slither as she searched for weak spots. When she thought she found something she concentrated and punched, balled her power, insistent force against Junra's fatigue, the rawness of the moment she'd catalyzed. Where Vornskr and Carach crushed she undermined, cracking the foundation. (Scratching, a sick sound like insects, dry bodies crawling over eachother.)

Even if somehow the concentrated effort of three masters that had dedicated their life to learning their craft was not enough it would require all that learned defense to resist both them and a physical attack.

[member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Darth Junra"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

What they said.

But with more doom and gloom because that's how Darth Vornskr rolled.

 

[Reverance]

Spoiler

[media]https://soundcloud.com/fever-ray/if-i-had-a-heart-1[/media]

What was it that drew hand to move when the mind so quickly determined the lack of need? Was it the submission of the shell, growing subservient to the will of the being within, ready to exact damage where it could be found? Was it the mist of reckoning that descended from the presence of the dark lord, filling the nostrils of a man that had decided to remain uninvolved? Or was it the smell of blood on the horizon, the chance at enlisting punishment where punishment was required, that caused paused feature to turn from broken window to the fallen Sith Lord, [member="Darth Junra"]. The Lord of Pain had many talents, but none of them fell into the purview of things abstract, things conjured. He existed within the realms of the senses, forever defended against both the use and implementation of mental attacks. A talent pushed to it's limits recently.

But what he did have a talent for was the affliction of pain and destruction, something born from the appreciation of it. When his hand lifted from the folds of his robes, it did so under the vision of a man seeking vengeance where is was most deserved. The One Sith was a faction of change, a engine for movement, and could find grievous wound through the attempts of one. Such destructive strikes against the group could not be allowed, would not be tolerated. It must be dealt with. It was nothing personal, though he would wash in her pain and clean himself of the boredom and numbness that now defined him. With fingers anchored in curvature against the palm, Gabriel latched on to Darth Junra with the full unabated strength of his telekinesis. In his mind, he found it fortunate that bodies were so apt to form in symmetrical mirror halves. It made splitting them all the easier.

A zipper chain ripped apart to leave the teeth separated, Gabriel focused his mind against the physical morphology of her body. Most importantly, the spine. Like a xylophone with every other brass bar slid away from the frame, Gabriel would deconstruct this insolent being. The bones first, that which gave her structure, and the flesh would follow. First, he would lift her from the ground, and then he would destroy her, while she defended against the endeavors of others. Such was the ways of things that wouldn't bend; pulled from the root and cut by the axe. Now, they would see, how such a wounded creature would combat mastery from four Sith Lords. Against his mind, potential enveloped his perception of the future, as he prepared to defend himself against those who would seek to defend this traitorous beast.

[member="Darth Junra"]|[member="Darth Carach"]|[member="Darth Vornskr"]|[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Iroatas]

Darth Acarus had remained in the shadows throughout the whole ordeal. A long time ago he would've felt inclined to move to the forefront and strike down any traitors, or those who would rise up to speak against the true Lords of the Sith, but with the Dark Lord apparently dead, the Charcoal Sith Pureblood had decided upon a new course

Or at least... The one that he had thought of a long time ago when he had been an Apprentice still and dreamed of when he would be a Master of the Dark Side.

Gather power slowly, and when the time came seize it for yourself. Of course such an ideal had been at the back of his mind the whole time, but only now did he realize that it was the most important piece of information that he could ever have. Now more than ever.

With black hood and hands clasped in front of him, he let the more rowdy and zealous of the One Sith battle for the right to rule, or whatever it was they fought for.

 

[Soeht]

Just barely, Daella heard [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"] as he questioned her on the reason for killing the Dark Lord. She continued to keep herself up on her two feet. Her eyes drifted away from the trio assaulting her mind: [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Darth Carach"], and [member="Darth Vornskr"]. She still heard their prods through the Force - aimless at the moment as if one saying they broke a branch was enough to describe how such a result happened.

Then once Kezeroth stood next to Daella, and before [member="Silara Vantai"] attacked him, Daella finally spoke aloud with a dry rasp in her voice, “The Apprentice must kill the Master. How could you expect any other outcome?”

After saying that, she turned her attention toward Silara with the same calm and slight smile she had been wearing for the last minute. The attempts of the three Sith Masters assaulting her mind continued - perhaps to soon be joined by Silara. Even if [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] continued to attempt to aid Daella via some mental or physical means, it would be best not to continue. This was not for her.

Daella still stood with that incessant smile. Still unmoving even as Silara approached her. Perhaps the reason for her supposed mental resilience stemmed from more than just fortitude.

Now would be the time for the mentalists in Daella’s mind to know, if they continued.

Spoiler

Or perhaps it would be best not to know the secrets locked deep within the mind of the apprentice of the Dark Lord. This is a road not traveled by most. The deeper you go, the less you will know. There will be more questions and no answered. There will be no peace. There will be no comfort. Confusion is all that awaits you on this path. Yet, it is still your choice to continue.

Spoiler

Do not regret this.

Spoiler

There is pain here.

The dark side of the Force suffocated the Throne Room. A multitude of Sith continue to assault Daella in their own means. She stands, firm and tall. The Dark Lord sits on his throne - having been placed there just earlier. He watched the "battle" proceed. Life was in his eyes. His skin was still pale, though. Yet with each breath, it was apparent that he was still quite alive and well. A blackened hole in his chest persisted - a sign of what the traitor had done to him.

Yet it would take much more than that for the Dark Lord to succumb to death.

His eagerness was apparent. He awaited for the end of the one he once called his Apprentice. She had failed to land the killing blow and would be punished accordingly. Such was the Sith way when the Apprentice failed to kill the Master. He did not speak, though. Merely watched as the Dark Side seeped from him to every corner of the room.

Spoiler

Your attempts remain abstract - metaphoric.

Hardly the poignant, tangible misery that the Dark Lord once subjected her to - the same suffering she subjected Karin Dorn to just for a few moments before it brought the woman to a groveling mess. Cade Bane did not succumb, yet he found displeasure in hearing innumerable voices in his mind emphatically attempting to persuade him to help the Jedi. Breaking one’s will required the mental effects to feel almost real.

Much like inducing the sweet smell of spice to an addict. Or, to one that would wish to kick the habit. Yet, the tantalizing scent would always return. A lingering thought would remain in the subject’s mind that they could always abandon their duty and quickly get a high. Such a release was in reach and could easily be the path of least resistance. The dreams would disappear and fruitless ambitions could be forgotten.

Or for a voice in the back of a prideful king’s head saying that all one would ever do amounted to nothing. The king’s time would pass and his body would return to dust. The galaxy would continue - marching over the remains of his kingdom. When enough time has passed, those that mention his name would only receive questions of who this king was in response. Undeniably, he would be forgotten and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Or that standing next to the Dark Lord was an old friend once thought dead. They look at you in contempt - unsatisfied with what you had become.

Spoiler

A fork in the road. Neither path will bring answers. The best way is to turn around. Yet, the choice is yours.

Do you believe?

Spoiler

The Jedi taught her to be a friend, even if she hardly returned such feelings. It taught her to care about something other than the Vision or herself. It taught her that there were things worth sacrificing oneself for. She tried to deny it, yet spending ones youth growing up as a Jedi without much guidance by a Sith would leave irreversible changes in one’s heart.

Yet she still lost what she cared about the most.

Spoiler

Nearly everyone has a trigger. Daella is just the same. The Dark Lord knew this. Yet you didn’t. The answer was before you. Invisible. Your inability to see costs you time and effort. A skilled mentalist finds these triggers and pulls them forth.

You merely pretend, as you've always done.

Spoiler

Something isn't right.

Spoiler

None of this could possibly be real, right? The Dark Lord can’t be alive right now. Daella should have died from his retaliation, though. That husk standing before you should not exist.

It's time to leave. There is nothing more that could be gained from this - fighting phantoms of the mind.

The Dark Lord watches.

Spoiler

You shouldn't continue. This is the end.

Spoiler

Spoiler

Spoiler

Spoiler

Spoiler

Do you believe?

Spoiler

The Apprentice must kill the Master.
The Apprentice must kill the Master.
The Apprentice must kill the Master.
The Apprentice must kill the Master.
The Apprentice must kill the Master.
The Apprentice must kill the Master.
The Apprentice must kill the Master.
The Apprentice must kill the Master.
The Apprentice must kill the Master.

Spoiler

The Dark Lord's body begins to rot.

Do you not follow the Vision? Even you should surely see. He would have brought only ruin. There would be no Order. There would be no Life. Your existence would depend solely on him.

Do you think it was best for you to be his slave?

Spoiler

Even if you care not for the Vision, you must care for the way of the Sith. His body is now cold and dead on the throne. The Apprentice has killed him in a moment of his weakness. Too much had been spent attempting to control Ordo. His mind had grown weak.

His time had come.

Spoiler

Do you not remember when you killed your master? Or perhaps you didn't.

It is the one moment in a Sith's life in which they could say they have grown stronger than their predecessor. It is the moment all wish to achieve - to say that they helped the Sith grow or just that their own power had grown tremendously.

And for those that are the master, your growth depends on the ever looming threat that your ambitious apprentice could one day surpass and kill you. If you do not feel that, then fear for the day in which it becomes true.

Spoiler

It is time to end this. The Sith need you to lead more than attack what would be an example for all to strive for.

The Dark Lord watches.

Spoiler

Do not continue.

Spoiler

This is the end.

Spoiler

Spoiler

Spoiler

Then there was silence.

At that moment, Daella's body wracked in pain due to [member="Reverance"]'s attempts. Her face grimaced in response. It was immediate and caused the woman alarm. She would be unable to withstand much of it. Without much room for thought, Daella lashed out in instinct. She threw her left arm forward. Wounded and exhausted, there would not have been much she could do beyond this last attempt to save her life.

Once her arm had fully extended forward, a burst of telekinetic power came forth to break Daella free. It acted upon herself to push to back. It acted upon Reverence to distract the Sith Lord. The burst shook the Throne Room enough to make the ground momentarily unstable - just for one moment for Daella to break free.

Instinct proved to pick the most hazardous choice, though. Daella had been standing in front of a window - now without any glass due to Kezeroth's rampage. She had broken free to Reverence's grip for enough of a moment to be ejected from the Throne Room.

Now, Daella began to fall.

 

[Ire'Rain Sekairo]

CORUSCANT:
The Throne Room: Unknown Time
@Everyone. @No One. @Anything and Everything. @The Universe.
And the World Falls by Rise Above Normality

​

Time had an awful habit of seeming to slow down during dramatic events. It was, of course, just the brain doing natural, normal, things. But some things you didn't want to last. Some things in life are better rushed through. Perhaps, I think, watching someone die is one of those. Even if you've seen death a thousand times... you'll always feel it. Always. Gazing on as a stranger croaks is one thing. Seeing a friend die is another. But maybe, as I am starting to think, to feel, maybe seeing an almost-friend perish is the worst. All of the potential there, for happiness, for joy, for a love of sorts, is struck down. Torn from you. Whatever hopes you may have gathered are grabbed from your arms, cast to the ground, and then burned. To have time slow down while this happens is like someone taking the ashes of those hopes, stomping on them, piling them into a box, having the box eaten by a nexu, all before sending that Nexu into space... and into a star. That was the dramatic way of saying it. What I mean... is that it hurts. An ache in your chest, or sometimes a burning sensation. Pain trickles through you. For a moment you have to wonder if you were actually injured. You weren't. Yet at the same time you were. It just wasn't in the same way as you'd think. No. There were no scratches on you. No cuts, no bruises, no burns. Just a strike of thunder in your chest. The more time slows... the more the storm grows.

We all have different ways of dealing with that sort of thing. And as I watched Daella Apparine be assaulted I considered mine. While Silara stalked forward I thought of the visions I used to seek comfort in. When Reverance joined in I remembered nights spent with Elani. Seeing the smirk upon Junra's face reminded me of the first time I killed someone. To see her fly out the window... to see the almost-friend that was never more than an almost-enemy start to fall... I scowled. Time resumed to flow. And for a moment I did not exist. Those who looked would see a statue. Another face in the crowd. Just a nameless acolyte. Prodding at my mind could lead one to a simple group of memories. Which would they look at? If any looked, that is. The moment was over fairly soon. Some things did not last. There were things that simply did not last. No matter how hard time tries to slow down... everything ends. I turned. Before I even knew it I was walking towards the exit. Around me no one noticed. No one cared. All eyes were on the window, or the Emperor, or those who rose to defend him. None would care for an apprentice leaving. That was good. Here I was, but here I wasn't, a shadow, a whisper, a deep breath. In this moment I refused to exist. Because existing meant thinking. It meant feeling, understanding, living through the day. Such things felt impossible to me. Though there was one thing I wished for... one thing that required the presence of reality. And so before I left I paused in the doorway. I reached out, gently, with the force. A single whisper of a thought tried to reach her. The traitor. [member="Darth Junra"]. Without waiting for anything else, not even a response from my earlier 'speech', I turned, I moved, I left.

The day was done.
Goodbye, one who was almost.
{SUMMARY: IN WHICH IRE MADE A FRIEND, LOST A HAND, AND LOST A FRIEND.}
~EXITS THREAD~

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

He Listened to her Words, and gazed again at each member in the room. Each one she worshiped as if they were gods themselfs, If that was true why was Darth Junra lying back to his side? He then squinted slightly at [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] and her comments. " Gods amongst mere Mortals and yet not a Single one lashed out to save their True god the Emperor! All watched as a Dark Jedi attacked in response. Their are no gods here, There is only a Mass of puppets with their strings cut. The Puppeteer is dead and has taken purpose with him ." He growled and crossed his arms and gave a blank expression to those around him. He was seem as a Monster, He was used to their gazes. Kezeroth then looked to Silara after, It seemed it was done. Even her blades had been deactivated and he too hated him, her comment was given as if she was a Angry mother. Her Sabers were gone but she still attacked with the Force, As the Push came his way Kezeroth slid back and thumped against the wall.

" You dare!" the Gen'Dai walked forward some and gazed at [member="Silara Vantai"], A lost individual in the same category as the other Sith in the room. As he passed her he responded to [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] comment of looking to his betters.

" Remember to whom you speak, You are Equals And Equals demand respect!" he shouted quoting the now Dead Emperor Word for Word. It was over, He was done... He should of expected [member="Darth Junra"]'s reasons to follow along with the Sith Code and philosophy, she had earned Kezeroths Respect and hate all at once. The Gen'Dai stood off to the side gnashing his teeth and smoldering in his Emotions.

 

[Onrai]

Circe continued to watch, frowning on the outside, but loling on the inside as she continued to stand there, leaning against a wall, watching the One Sith tear themselves apart.

She then sighed. Any chances of someone coming to an agreement anytime soon were nil.

@Everyone

 

[Ellie Mors]

Failure. It was destined for all that some day they would fail in their quest, whether it be for power, love, truth, hate, wisdom, or knowledge. None could succeed where another had failed. Every choice, every path, each and every method, each practice and every minute of training was wasted on the insanity of succeeding where another had fallen. [member="Darth Junra"] had failed just as all Jedi had in the past, just as every apprentice had failed to grow greater than their master, never learning all of which they knew before they killed them, never once becoming greater than their masters were in their prime. Such was failure to a Sith. She had failed both the Dark Lord's trust and the name of the Sith. She had not struck her master down in a battle of strength, she had spotted a moment of weakness, a thin precipice and window to strike, and taken the foolhardy path to power. Just as the Sith in the days of the Brotherhood had chosen to live, masters killed by plotting apprentices whom had yet to learn all they could, Junra had struck out with a weak mind. This was not the Sith way, she had not proven her greatness in battle, she had merely murdered a man when the opportunity struck her. Pathetic. Fairness was certainly uncalled for, but this failure was as horrible as Zannah's hesitation to strike down Bane - only far worse.

Never before had she been so offended by such a bold display of insecurity and impetuous disregard for rhyme or reason. The moment she had brushed aside [member="Kezeroth the Hateful"] was the moment she blocked out the outside world. Her eyes were trained on Junra's crawling form, her mind molested by three Sith Lords whilst her body was assaulted by [member="Reverance"]'s telekinetic prowess. Not one time did she hesitate in her slow, deliberate, stride towards the fallen pretender. It was the moment the room shook that she broke her pace and moved towards the blonde with disregard for her own safety - knowing full well that any other Sith Lord in the vicinity could mistakenly strike her while trying to reach for Junra as she passed - through the only method she knew possible, the only skill that had been drilled into her head by the first Sith to call themselves her master, regardless of their incompatibility with her dark nature. The amount of her skill with force speed went above and beyond her ability to perform battle meditation and communicate with the Sithspawn she so totally dominated, and she pushed it to the limit as she moved with the shaking of the floor, mid-stumble, to add with her momentum towards the Sith Lord as she was pushed through the window, her own hands rising up from her hips in a gesturing motion as if to hold out an infant in her hands. Such was the grasp she had attempted to afford on the falling body of Darth Junra as she slowed and neared the window.

​

Spoiler

• [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member="Darth Carach"], [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Darth Acarus"], [member="Darth Janus"], [member="Enigma"], [member="Darth Ayra"], [member="Darth Praelior"], [member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

This was never about leadership and the determination of it, never had been. What lies in the upper echelons of this order is exactly what it had been before this day was delivered, the dark lord's presence was still abundant and palpable. His aura ran along the walls like rain in the downpour, like blood through veins and arteries still pulsing. Gabriel would not entertain the notion, he was not the sort to claim position. What this was, was something far more important. It was consequence rightfully owned. And to those who stood on the outside, watching in quiet contemplation and patience, vultures waiting for the dust to clear from the wreckage to pick meat from carcass, this was a warning. A promise that despite removal of head from the shoulders, the limbs would strike out in unison to avenge it. In his own way, Gabriel appreciated those who had left the chambers to allow the matter to sort itself out. [member="Darth Praelior"] and [member="Ire'Rain Sekairo"] were those who had seen their matters settled and while Gabriel may have not visually recognized that, the Sith Lord found respect in their actions.

For those with lofty notions of waiting it out, sitting in the corners and watching behind the veil of mystery, well, he had no time for their consideration. A man with tunnel vision, he remained latched on to [member="Darth Junra"] with a tenacity that befit his title. The cold embrace of her aura was but a pat against the chest as he shifted his weight into his core, sliding and leaving the ground but for a moment. If it was her attempt to to distract him with such efforts, she would have been better served aiming a box fan at a hurricane in plea to veer from course. He was dug in now, far more difficult to remove than the simple notion of scratching at the skin where it itches. But it did shift his focus from ripping her apart to merely breaking her, something that required far less focus. In his mind, while she ran, he focused all of his rage into her legs, looking to crush them. No particular bones in general: femur, tibia, fibula, patella, phalanges, metatarsal bones, tarsal bones, talotarsal joints, sacroiliac joint, even the hips. He would cause a breakage within, masked by resounding pain of the contracting muscles that would constrict around the bone in order to stabilize it, and the necrosis that would follow. He knew from experience that the femur break could be the most painful, considering the amount muscle around it. Such efforts may pull feet from purposes, dropping her gently into [member="Silara Vantai"]'s arms.

Impression followed his tactics as he focused force speed into his single eye to give him perception of movement beyond sentient physical capabilities. Pleased, he noted Silara's movements and worked in tandem with her, to prevent [member="Darth Junra"] from her escape. He had no patience for those unwilling to accept their place and even less for someone unwilling to fight to the bitter end. He reserved thoughts towards [member="Kezeroth the Malevolent"] in his time of blood lust and blinding rage. He was finding it harder and harder to blame the being for his unrelenting rage, though the point was lost in his antics of smash first and roar later. For [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member="Darth Carach"], and [member="Matsu Xiangu"]: One of them already had his respect and the other two would working fervently towards the same regard.

 

[Caulder Dune]

[member="Enigma"] | [member="Darth Ayra"]

There was a surefire way to get into Darth Janus' negative graces. Obviously Circe was already there, but by completely ignoring him she had only incited his anger further.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry." Janus sneered, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled forward. "Perhaps I should speak more plainly- use smaller words so that you might understand. Or, tell me, are you so lost in your lecherous fantasies that you're having trouble paying attention?"

Now there was only a token amount of distance between the two. Janus stood directly in front of the trespasser, completely obscuring her view of the present goings on. His hands came out from behind his back, one of them calling his lightsaber. The electrum hilt flew into his waiting hand, the crimson blade sparking to life with a familiar snap hiss. Perhaps leaning against a wall wasn't a good idea. It removed one's ability to backpedal.

"You're leaving. Now. Otherwise I'll have the Vong remove you, and I can assure you they'll be significantly less pleasant than me."

Janus' gaze flickered over to Arya, briefly. Another interloper who had no business here.

"And take your repulsive concubine with you."

Normally, Janus was opposed to using Vong for anything but cannon fodder. But the Dark Lord didn't have droid bodyguards, only a half-dozen Yuuzhan-Vong Slayers in his retinue. Presently they were idling on the sidelines, but Janus would call them to action if Circe and Arya continued to exist in a space where they shouldn't.

 

[Onrai]

[member="Darth Janus"]

Circe had, for obvious reasons, done her best to ignore Darth Janus. It was rather funny how the two of them had once worked well together as a team during the Sith Empire, though now, Janus was here - likely seeking a form of redemption considering the final actions of his being leader of the power. Being known as the Broken Emperor likely wouldn't have been something fun for a Sith like himself to have lived with post-leadership.

"Well, to be fair, I understand your chief rationale for being here and attempting to take a domineering post." She gave a serious look. As serious as she could. "Considering that you were humiliated by Shorn when he impaled you through the Imperial throne, it's obvious that you would attempt to regain power and prestige here. And your aggressive response towards someone who did their best to make sure your empire would have the necessary warships and starfighters to conquer would indicate a definite feeling of overcompensating... Perhaps for insecurity over such?"

She paused, disappearing and reappearing several feet away, from the wall as well as Janus(tl;dr immersed herself in the White Current, speedwalked several feet away, and left it, in case someone tries to complain) - giving herself a bit more room were this to degenerate into a brawl - the absolute last thing she wanted to get involved with, seeing as everyone and their Force-damned family seemed to be attacking one another some way and somehow.

"I do not intend to leave until the One Sith have a new leader, or a new form of leadership. The security and integrity of all Sith will be compromised if this order disintegrates, and that's something I cannot let happen considering its drastic repercussions. The Sith have not operated well in the Shadows since before Krayt's time - and there aren't only two of us, nor will there be anytime soon."

In the meantime, she looked at [member="Darth Ayra"], curious as to her take on being called a "repulsive concubine" by Tyrin.