Prophet of Bogan
Darth Empyrean / Fiolette Yvarro / Taeli Raaf / Diodoros / Darth Kentarch / Lina Ovmar / Darth Dekaltis / Kai'lyn / Revna / Darth Aion / Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Daimen / Gerwald Lechner / Carthus of House Marr / Charles Castex
He cast a glance away from his ever-present glaring to regard his apprentice as she spoke up, idly resting his chin on his fist as he silently encouraged her to speak up with a nod. She might have been a mere apprentice, but she was his apprentice. And far more worthy of the title of 'Sith' than many which surrounded the dinner table. The 'Emperor' himself counted amongst that number of course. After all, what true Sith held a dinner with those that were threats to their power? It was either a show of power or of arrogance and he cared little for either.
Revna's desire to see the institution of slavery burned away entirely wasn't too surprising, it was one that they shared due in part to their similar histories after all, nor was her apparent lust for knowledge. In many ways she reminded Darth Strosius of himself when he was but an Acolyte, albeit she had a spot in a room full of Sith Lords while he himself occupied battlefields more often than not.
It was difficult to say which one was more dangerous in terms of survivability.
As she questioned Empyrean in turn the masked man would lean over a bit and speak low so that his voice didn't carry far. "You ask that which he cannot answer, my Disciple. There sits a corpse occupying a throne that shouldn't have been built to begin with, you'll find no wisdom in his words." To this day he'd yet to have a meaningful conversation with an Eternalist, the words of their leader carried even less weight.
Darth Malum was perhaps even bolder than Revna had been with his outright declaration of his intent to surpass the legacy of Darth Marr himself. Not to mention announcing his bid for a seat on the Dark Council, perhaps fishing for some sort of support from the assembled Sith in that regard. Now was hardly a fitting time for brazen power plays and declarations like that. Well, for any that weren't assassination attempts at least.
Darth Aion surprised him somewhat, a feat which the other Sith seemed very keen on performing giving the frequency of such thus far, with his response. For a devourer to seek freedom rather than power was unexpected enough but to further proclaim a desire to surpass the Jedi in their own deluded attempts was another matter entirely. One that they could find common ground on, and one that would be the subject of discussion in the future for certain.
And then the Corpse Emperor began his reprise as meals began being laid out for the Sith to partake in, the promise of dinner being fulfilled after all. Although he did notice how Empyrean himself neglected to claim any food for himself. Curious but not unexpected given the state of the Eternalist Sith. His responses were as succinct as one would imagine, meeting and challenging the stated goals of each that had spoken with the ease of a practiced politician.
When those dead eyes landed upon his own masked ones however, he knew that he wasn't going to enjoy whatever response he would recieve.
A scoff which he didn't bother to hide escaped him at the rebuttal, finding it to be rather cheeky given how it deflected away from the Corpse Emperor. "The gall." He muttered under his breath as he rolled his eyes and turned to look back at his apprentice as he spoke low once more. "See how he avoids the real issue and moves right on to a diversion? A classic tactic." This was a learning experience for her after all, at the very least he could extract a lesson or two from this soured dinner.
His attention did return to Empyrean as he began recounting his personal goal, or so he claimed at least. It would have been interesting to listen to in order to try and find some other, more personal, angles which could be used against the Eternalists. Would have being the key word, as the masked man was far too distracted by the feeling of his blood boiling more and more with every other word that was spoken.
He sought to blame the Force itself for the failings of him and his ilk, for the failings of the Worm and Carnifex, for the failings of the galaxy in general it seemed. Despicable. "Blasphemer." Darth Strosius hissed under his breath as what had been a simmering rage was let loose, coating his form in a blanket of wrath as he attempted to slay Empyrean by simply glaring at him.
The responses and reactions around the room faded into static as one of his hands, the one facing Revna and hidden from a quick glance by most, began to slide down to his side to wrap around the lightsaber on his belt. The Corpse claimed to be unkillable, to be above them all, and even had the audacity to claim to have been a slave in his past. All lies. All of which could be disproved with one cut across his throat.
Right as he unhooked the weapon from his belt and placed his other hand on the table to rise up however, a serving tray was thrust into his line of vision and blocked Empyrean from his hatefilled gaze for a moment. A large goblet filled to the brim with a liquid of crimson color and metallic scent, both of which were enough to halt his imminent wrath from spilling over. For now. He yanked the goblet from the tray with a growl and removed his hand from his lightsaber in order to reach up and pull open a small slit at the bottom of his mask, wasting no time in tipping his head back to down the contents of the goblet without any concern for appearing decent.