Victory Does Not Make Us Conquerors

[Darth Pyrrhus]

TYTHON
ABANDONED CATHEDRAL

It had been a long time since he had bothered about Tython. In fact, very little of his time had been spent here, even when it had been a possession of One Sith. Even now it served as little more than a meeting place for an old friend. To say Friend was being generous. In fairness, she was not that old either. He had known her as an Acolyte. In fact, the two of them had more or less run each their side of the two operations that led to the conquest of Glee Anselm. She had gone by a different name then. It was… He could not remember. Had he ever known? Even back then she had been an elusive shadow.

Now he knew her as a Sith Lord. Again, to say he knew her was being generous. But he knew her as well as he could know the smoke of a mist. Regardless of how many of her secrets he held, he knew enough. She was Sith. One of the very few in the Galaxy who claimed to be such that he would actually admit within those ranks. The rest? Pretenders. More than simply a Sith, he also believed her worthy of the title Darth. Or so he had once believed.

Would his perception be altered today? He hoped not. She was no good to him if she had strayed off the path of the Sith. Likewise, he was no good to no one if he had fallen behind. To be this close, to know the path, have the potential, but fail to reach out to grasp it… He may as well be dirt, motionless on the ground with complete lack of control over his own existence. A particle to be stepped on. No, not him. Not yet. These two Sith shared a very similar motto. It went something like success or death.

For all he knew [member="Darth Ophidia"] was already here. She wasn’t one to announce her presence before she deemed it fit. Pyrrhus? Oh, he was a walking challenge. A beacon that would show up on any sonar. He was Sith after all, though cut from a different cloth and not at all subtle with his provocation. Others were tempted to try to face that challenge. There were few thing he took as much pleasure in as beating down those who thought his guard was easily passed this way.

Indeed, he would not be difficult to find. The tall, broad-shouldered Togruta walked amongst the ruins overgrown with plant life. They looked as if they had been allowed to grow unhindered for a decade. Perhaps they had. Even dressed in all black, no less a Sith traditionalist when it came to attire now than he had been back in the days, he seemed to blend in with the faded green and grey of his surroundings. He made it to the stairs, slow steps carrying him upwards before… Stop. A whisper of the wind. It was little more than a leaf deciding it was time to leave home and take to the ground. Simple, subtle, insignificant. But something in his surroundings changed. And considering who he was meeting he knew not to assign such details to chance.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Saiah; that had been her name once upon a time. It was a name she had taken for herself as she forsook her birth-name and left her indigenous planet of Rattatak behind. She had been someone else then - something else, even. Saiah was not the name of a Sith, rather it was the name she had bequeathed upon the murderess. She too remembered Glee Anselm; it the first time she had been allowed to execute a mission on her own. As such, it almost held a certain sentimental value to her. Sentimental, of course, was 'generous' as some would say.

There were not many names that stood out from her early days, except one in particular: Tanek Santii, later known as [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] , Voice of the Dark Lord, Sphere of Justice in the succeeding Dark Council, owner of a grand slave-trade network and one of the last to abandon the defence of the One Sith. If there was one she wished to draw into plans that exceeded the limitations of her faction, then it was Pyrrhus. He was not the strongest, the quickest, the most wise nor the most foolhardy. However, out of all she knew, he was one of the few she would call a faithful Sith. Moreover, he understood the founding rule of this galaxy: Success or death.

As he expected, she had been waiting; It was her nature after all. She sat in one of the empty windowsills, concealed in the force and obscured by foliage. One of her legs dangled off the side and a gold coin was clenched in her left hand. She made sure the shiny metal was not visible from inside the cathedral. It was indeed not difficult to sense him nor truly to spot him. Though his robes blended with the surroundings, his rusty skin and multicoloured montrals and lekku did not. She counted the footsteps, one, two, five, eight. His natural crown came into play as she reached out. Ophidia felt her mind touch the stalk of a leaf and crush it. The task was easily baked into the backdrop of Tython's heavy blanket of dark energies.

Meanwhile, she silently rose to her feet in the windowsill and pressed her black-clad form against the stone. Slender fingers clawed themselves into cracks between stones and soundlessly she hoisted herself up along the rockwall. Her burining eyes watched Pyrrhus from afar, judging his form, his stride, his presence in the Force.

The Queen of Shadows was watching.

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

The two of them had served on the same council. Since it had been dissolved he had had little to do with its members. His journey had been his own. Others had set out to carve out new empires of their own. Some had withdrawn and consolidated their power in areas under their control. His association with some was certainly closer than with others. When it was time to contact the world again it was no coincidence that he chose her. The two had been familiar partners on previous operations, whether they regarded trade, acquiring precious metals or the conquest of planets. Thinking back, he fondly remembered a wedding. Mindabaal was one planet that had fallen off his radar and he had not paid attention to what had happened to it. Should he address her as your majesty as well now? The thought brought a faint smile up to his lips. For a moment he wondered through what lenses did she view him? He was sure she had her misconceptions about him. It was of no matter. He was here to shake those up too.

Darth Ophidia was here. The Force did not confirm it, yet its evasiveness when asked served as a small hint. She would be here. And even if she wasn't, he would have to behave as if she was. Reaching the top of the first flight of stairs, flanked on either side by more that would carry him to the highest level available, he stopped. Though he turned and looked out towards what had once been the main hall of the cult building, where he was facing did not matter much. He wasn't relying on his eyes at the moment. Pyrrhus was not looking for a life form, or even a presence within the Force, but... Thoughts. The inner workings of a mind, the emotions and process of reactions that it created. Like a scanning device searching for heat signatures, he scanned for mental activities, the congregation of thought present only in highly functioning sentient minds.

"Darth Ophidia" he said out loud after a while. Not too loud, but loud enough for her to hear. If she was here she would be listening. There were not many others making sounds around. Whether he had detected her or not was left unanswered. Speech and formality could work just as well at drawing someone out.

(Edit: Woops, forgot to add your tag: [member="Darth Ophidia"] )

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Slender fingers, strong like iron pitons, dug into the narrow crevices of the withered stonework. Soundlessly, she climbed to the top of the broken arch, and as the Togruta shouted for her attention, her silhouette rose upon its summit. Her dark-clad form stood in some contrast to the sky behind her, making her all the more ominous

"Darth Pyrhus."

Somehow, her voice felt closer than her physical proximity. It travelled, though it remained in its hushed, husky, tone. her face was not only obscured by her hood, but also the vaguely brighter background. One would probably have mistaken her for a part of the scenery, was it not for the subtle flutter of her cloak as the wind flirted with the fabric.

No more words did she speak, but raised both arms to stand outstretched and level with her shoulders. She gave a visual impression of being open, though she had surrounded her with a subtle protective field of the Force. She was not so foolish as to stand openly in overt aggression against Pyrrhus. Though he and she both knew what they were here for. These were the games she played, the endless layers of deception between which she tripped her opponents. Was she even there? Or was she behind him this whole time, cloak and dagger at the ready?

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

Ah. There she was. The one, the only, [member="Darth Ophidia"]. They both knew why they were here. Business could wait, it was time to play. But such wouldn't be appropriate without proper introductions being made, and some pre-clash chatter. 'How've you been?' 'Oh very good, thank you.' 'Ohh I'm glad to hear that.' 'Yeah.' 'So, how's your husband?' 'Oh don't get me started.' 'Oh you two rascals you'

Maybe that was what he was saying. Maybe he was going over his tax returns. In any case, the Togruta was mumbling and muttering words in a guttural tongue, and at a pace at that. Her voice was contrastingly soft, even quiet. Ophidia knew how to carry herself. Much like in her politics, her battles, she did not need power to have her voice be heard. She ensured it was heard wherever she permitted it. While his eyes remained on her and the withered stonework on which she stood, his other senses were keenly alert in the event of deception.

She had placed herself under a layer of protection through the Force. Pyrrhus did not leave himself open either. As his words raced in a hushed whisper, too low to be heard through natural means from that distance, a few thin strands of black smoke started rising from the very arch she stood on.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

As much as Ophidia liked the pre-clash chatter, she did not think it was a good idea to remain in one place. And, if the Togruta was trying to tell her something, then he would certainly have to speak up because she could not hear him. She could, however, see the movements of his mouth and the strain in his neck muscles. With her experience, it was far from difficult discerning Basic from the more esoteric tongues. Darth Pyrrhus' body betrayed his secrecy.

A crackling cackle grew in her voice as she turned on the stone arch, arms still stretched to either side. In mid twirl, she threw herself off the perch and dispersed into the shadows below. The sound of her laughter spread throughout the area, seemingly emanating from every leaf and stone. Her voice cut through the laughter in discordant hisses.

"Where have you been? The empire has burned. What have you done? Where were you?You abandoned the cause. Did you abandon the code?"

Shrouded in her cloak of darkness, she glided away from her formed perch, noticing the smoke rising from it. Pyrrhus and his sorceries were not to be underestimated. From the arch where she had stood, she swiftly moved to the left while her distraction laughed and fell. She leapt from one arch to the other. Her feet caught the stone wall and curled under her form before kicking off again. Dust and loose stone fell from where the feet had touched down, but she had kicked off and moved away. Her hands caught a ledge and swung her under one of the tall arches. Her slender form melted into the shadows.

"What makes you Sith?"

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

[member="Darth Ophidia"] did not remain in one place for long. It was good her arrogance and pride did not hold her back. This was not a good time for mockery, and she had likely deduced as much already. To most the powers wielded by the Lord of Ruin was a well kept secret. Even to Ophiida, however, she was likely aware that he dabbled in sorcery. And to be frank, someone like her was fully capable of putting one and one together on her own.

Ophidia fell. Another rose.

"̧̀D̸̴̡wo̷m͜u͏t̸s̀í͢q͏̧̀s͢͡a"̀

The smoke that had been on the rise grew into a malicious current. The sound of rocks cracking boomed loudly from the place where she had been standing only moments before, cascading downwards a blanket of rock and dust. If she was unlucky one of the pebbles might fire straight at her like shrapnel, but with her reflexes it was just as likely, if not more, that she avoided any such encounter entirely.

The dust settled. The grass underneath sunk where the rocks had landed, but also there were two large craters. Inexplicable, as no rock had touched them. However within the next moment it became quite clear that it was something else entirely that had left the mark. With an infernal the beast announced itself, its roar sounding like a gate to the Netherworld had been opened and the condemned souls within cried for clemency all at once.

In the crater's place stood a Smoke Demon, a manifestation of the Dark Side made possible thanks to the sorcery of Darth Pyrrhus. To anyone else it might look like some horrific beast, balancing on the edge between the realm of the physical and the ethereal, without solid form. Ophidia might know the demon by another name, as it would attempt to assume the shape of her deepest fear.

The Siqsa moved like no creature alive could. It was like a blood hound following the scent of its prey. To it the restrictions of mortals seemed irrelevant; sound, sight... It would find her. It would consume her.

And just as good, as Ophidia took on an insolent tone. It was Dun Moch, attempts to rile him up. But his pride would not let certain accusations go unanswered. "Never" he hissed with determination. Never had he abandoned the Code, never since he had taken his first breath as a Sith in training on Coruscant. His understanding had grown every day. Not once, in his mind, had he betrayed it. Not once, in his mind, had he strayed from its path.

"The Empire was weak. So it burned." As for where he had been and what he had done... Well, best not reveal all of his cards and moves. It was not a bad move on Ophidia's part if she sought to gain some information on Pyrrhus' secret operations. But he would divulge nothing to this approach.

While he spoke his other senses were hard at work locating her. Eyes, ears, the Force, everything. She could not hide forever. If she wished to make a move she would be forced to reveal herself. One thought could be to follow the Siqsa, as it seemed hot on her trail, following the essence of fear, Force, or whatever tracks she left behind. Tracks. The gentle caress of feet against the grass that went against the wind, against gravity. No, not grass... Instead she left behind dust and stone.

What makes you Sith?

"I am Darth Pyrrhus" he felt the answer sufficed. Within all that was Darth Pyrrhus one could find every ingredient of the Sith. With outstretched palms he reached with the Force to where he believed her to be and attempted to find and seize her movements with an iron grip of the Force.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"Ah, Darth Pyrrhus; the victor - The Lord of Ruin."

Dün moch was not done with a single word, a single sentence. It was the ocean that wore down the walls, not the fell swoop of a hammer. No, the hammer would come since. Her tone retained its mockery as it echoed off every wall sourcelessly.

Smoke-demons were troublesome creatures. Their abilities of supernaturally sniffing out one's source more or less paralleled her own ability to hide. As she was simultaneously trying to mask her whereabouts from Pyrrhus and weather down his defences, she found the creature to constantly gain upon her. At first, she saw only the shadow of a man, humanoid and towering.She slipped around the outside of the arch, slipping her slender fingers into cracks in the stone as she passed around the ledge and under the next arch.

"But what have you to show? Only complacency. What is your legacy, Darth Pyrrhus?"

There were few things Darth Ophidia feared, but one remained in her like a constant wound: The Dark Lord of the One Sith; a Master disappointed in the work of his assassin. He had ordered her to destroy his enemies, yet she turned her blade on him and set his empire ablaze. Now, his bloodied visage walked on air around the corner she had slipped through, and for a moment she could see him: His eyes burning with hate and flesh in a state of hign necrosis. His chest was an open view, through which the moonlight shone.

This time, Ophidia really jumped.

For a moment, her shadowy visage was visible as her feet touched down upon the ashen earth, throwing up a small cloud of dust and rustling the dead leaves of a season past. She looked at Pyrrhus while a hand trailed to one of the two sabres at her sides. Her voice no longer echoed off the walls, but its source was clear as day, though her form still shifted along with the shadows.

"You sold your secrets to a Jedi schutta and watched as she ran off with your failure of an apprentice."

Under the arch where she had stood, she could now again see the humanoid figure with the burning eyes and wounded chest - Her failure. The fear in her turned to anger as she put two and two together. Pyrrhus was trying to get under her skin with his sorceries, he would not succeed - She would not fall to his tricks.

Her teeth gritted in a wicked smile as she glided sideways from her previous stance, hands hidden behind her hips and ready. He had flushed her out, but she was far from defeated.

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]