Private A Land of Mythical Creatures

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Lirka Ka

Maya Kovel spread beneath the viewport. Ochre sands had been carved into deep rifts, and dark green lichen clung stubbornly to the stone. Lord Gerwald Lechner observed the planet with the patience of a wolf tracking its prey. The meeting with Lirka Ka awaited. Every movement, every word, required thought. Clarity mattered more than anticipation.

Lirka Ka’s reputation was clear. She moved through power and cruelty with confidence. Discipline rested beneath her chaos. The Dark Council’s proceedings could entertain lesser minds, but for Dark Councilor Gerwald Lechner, they offered insight and leverage.

The craft descended through the wind-swept deserts. Settlements clung to plateaus. Towers and solar arrays marked the persistence of life. Hundreds of millions lived across the planet. For the Dread Wolf, the terrain reduced itself to stage and spectators. Observation was necessary. Detachment remained essential.

Reports from the Council reached him in fragments. Lirka Ka had attended as expected, bending rules and filling coffers. Gerwald Lechner required no spectacle and no indulgence. She would speak. He would listen and weigh every word. Authority demanded patience and foresight.

The engines hummed steadily. Instruments traced the descent. Protocols, law, and the careful management of Lirka Ka’s talents demanded attention. Even in Maya Kovel’s deserts, where the wind shifted the sands, some constants persisted. Command depended on awareness. Action depended on timing. Understanding the monsters one chose to walk alongside remained essential.

The craft settled on a plateau, dust rising in thin, curling clouds. Lord Gerwald Lechner stepped from the cabin, the air dry and sharp against his skin. Below, the desert stretched to the horizon, winds shaping dunes that rose and fell like slow tides.

The mobile command center waited nearby. Designed for discretion, it had been camouflaged against the ochre rock. Its low profile and muted surfaces made it almost invisible from a distance. Instruments and communications arrays were integrated into the structure. To the casual eye, it appeared as little more than a natural outcropping. To Gerwald, it was a complete observation and coordination hub, ready for the precise control of any operation.

Inside, the air was conditioned, a faint hum of machinery underscoring the silence. Light fell in measured planes across the walls, reflecting off polished metal and dark panels. Displays traced distant sectors, troop movements, and orbital feeds. Every system had been optimized for efficiency, designed so that attention remained on strategy rather than distraction.

Gerwald Lechner moved through the center with calm purpose. Each station had been placed with intent. Each instrument had been tested for redundancy. Even in this remote, arid environment, control was complete. Lirka Ka would enter soon. The structure itself was a test of her patience and focus as much as the conversation they were about to have.

The Dread Wolf paused before the main observation viewport. The winds outside continued to shape the desert. The planet offered little comfort or distraction. Every detail mattered here, from the angle of the sunlight to the faint hum of the cooling arrays. The room was private, shielded from prying eyes. Words spoken here could not be overheard, and actions taken could not be traced.

Gerwald Lechner allowed himself the briefest acknowledgment of the setting. Maya Kovel had its own rhythms and patterns. Every gust of wind, every shifting dune, spoke of persistence and subtlety. The command center had been built to match that cadence, blending into the environment while giving him control over the elements within reach.

The Wolf waited. Lirka Ka would appear soon.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Hundreds of millions of lives. Hundreds of millions of worthless, sniveling, ants. Perhaps with attention and care these people could be made strong - but in regular calculus, few would survive the first test that the Primordial Darkness would lay at their feet. They would succumb to their pitiful, natural, existence.

And be forgotten.

A shame. Almost. But in the end of the meager handful of people on this world that could transcend, Lirka would gladly see them all dead to have a few less necks to wring at the End-of-all-things.

She wasn’t particularly surprised she was getting more notice now - a mere few cycles ago Gerwald Lechner wouldn’t have even given her a second thought. Lirka had lived much of her existence as just another monster in the Kainate menagerie, an existence almost as pitiful as the people she looked at with such callous disregard if not for the carefully crafted veneer of it all. Lirka wore many masks beyond just the metal one that hid her visage. The slavering monster was just one of those masks. Nothing the Once-Sephi did was without calculus.

Her paranoid calculus warned her against solo meetings with…testy…variables. The Second Imperator had struck her as another dullard - despite leading the Jutrand Raiders the man had never shown the same indulgent greed that Lirka enjoyed in her marauders from anything she had seen nor read. Truly a great loss not allowing a Link in the cosmic chain to form within one’s being.

But she’d keep that to herself for now. The Once-Sephi sincerely doubted he wanted to take theology - though most dabblings with Lirka ended that way. Be it through the exchange of ideas or to be burdened with the unasked ramblings of an enlightened-madwoman.

The command center was aggressively sterile. It was almost loathsome though Lirka understood the need for it - her existence was one of carefully crafted chaos. If such a thing could existence. For the first line of her creed spoke it well -

Peace is a Lie, there is but Chaos.

Yet driving a knife through the chaos and taking hold of the pandemonium of existence did deserve its own respect. And Lirka would give that kernel, at least silently. The glowing slit lenses of the Once-Sephi darted across the machinery she viewed as the heavy metal footfalls of her being echoed throughout the command center - she didn’t want to be silent today, or indulge in that ever bizarre quirk of hers to pop out of nowhere.

But she noted the dangers as well, ways to be recorded. Ways to not be recorded. Where assassins could hide and where murders could be masked. She may have been a Councillor now, in the simplistic scheme of it all they were “equals” - but Lirka knew well that meant very little in the ultimate web of Sith politics. It didn’t help, of course, that she was aggressively paranoid still.

She entered the observation port with little flair - clawed hands clasped behind her back as they so often were. Whatever she was thinking carefully hidden now beneath both a marred metal faceplate, and the force dead void of her being. She spoke equally as plain - sticking a foot in the metaphorical pool, she needed to know what face to wear.

“Imperator.”

This would certainly be interesting if nothing else, maybe she had finally earned a scolding.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Lirka Ka

Gerwald heard the Third Imperator long before he set eyes on her metallic form. It seemed she was all too keen on announcing her arrival. She was unpredictable. The Wolf did not like that. He did not hate it either. What weighed more was the nagging question which lingered at the back of his mind.

How mad was she?

Kanites were a zealous lot, there was no denying it. Some remained tempered while others found no reason to be so. It was the difference between Carnifex and Prazutis. Both were equally powerful and viscous in their own right. Kaine was more subtle about it at times whereas Braxus was loud, flashy, and brutal. What sort was Lirka Ka ?

Everything that Gerwald knew of her so far screamed that she was more chaotic than either of the Zambranos. That was a dangerous thing to remain unchecked. It was one point where Ivalyn had been correct. The campaign would not succeed if wanton chaos and destruction were allowed to rule the day. It would only produce rebels who would later seek to overthrow their oppressors. This was why they had to be the opposite of nature.

The world, the universe, thrived on the law of entropy. What had started with order fell into disorder and disarray if not acted upon. In short, the universe was an ever expanding, dying, thing. What system would fall apart next? What star would go nova and wipe out the surrounding planets, or collapse on itself and create the next black hole? Was it not the duty of the powerful to draw the chaos back to order? Could they not use the death of something to bring about the birth of something greater?

Gerwald knew what he was toying with as the questions rolled around his mind. He was also aware that his ideas would seem blasphemous to a Kainite, and moronic to the likes of the more militaristic of their Order. This was the line Gerwald walked. Among the Confederacy, the Dread Wolf served to bring balance to the opposing philosophies of light and dark. Now he fought to keep the Sith Order on the line between order and chaos. They were both tools to use, and when used at the right times, would create the conditions needed to advance a strong and powerful Sith Order.

The task and duty was simple.

Victory and Unity.

“You made quite a passionate argument during the War Council,” the Dread Wolf said after the she-elf acknowledged him.

His arm motioned for her to come closer to the holotable which had been set in the center of the room. Whatever his reticence in regard to the method she had fought for, Gerwald was the one responsible for the success of the campaign. He knew it would be a foolish thing to allow the opportunity her methods would create go to waste. They simply needed to agree on how that would be accomplished. It was better done in private, away from critical ears that would burden their discussion with unsolicited opinions.

“I thought we could discuss your position away from the rest. You seemed irritated by the political posturing most war councils produce at the onset. More often than not they are an unrelenting and monumental waste of time, albeit a necessary one.”

He hoped she caught his meaning. They were not here to hash out what had already been discussed. It would be a further delay to the coordinated action needed to take the Core, and do so in a way that made the occupation seem more palatable. Afterall, that was the opportunity chaos provided. Chaos, when shaped correctly, did not merely break resistance. It brought comparison. It was why Gerwald wanted raids conducted immediately. The Sith would be the better option if his plan succeeded. It would have to be surgical and deliberate, however. That was what the Lord Commander feared the she-elf could not be.

Her tendency to chaos could derail his efforts as much as any autonomous action taken by the Commonwealth. Reports had already reached the Dread Wolf of action taken to bring Chalcedon on the part of the Commonwealth all while their Grand Vizier sat in the war council. It was actions such as these that worked in direct conflict of the Sith Order. The Wolf decided to overlook it for now, but should it happen again, Gerwald would inform the Dark Council which he no doubt believed the majority of it would see as a violation of their accords.

“I want to give you the freedom you desire, however, the Order is expanding our borders. If you are allowed to destroy everything in your path for the sake of that alone, we will be no closer to our desired outcome. Do you see my dilemma?”

The question was not only fair, but Dread Wolf was giving the she-elf the opportunity to present her own solution before getting into the main reason for this meeting.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Few really grasped Lirka Ka. Certainly, it was a problem born from intention - Lirka did not particularly like being understood easily, it made things infinitely too predictable. And predictability gave headway to foes both real and imagined - the only thing Lirka enjoyed letting people understand was at least presenting the start of the winding Dark Path of her maddening enlightenment.

She had walked in the shadow of the Kainites for some time, too long of a time ultimately. A place of brimstone and hellfire for the monster to rebuild itself and rise up to new heights, so what sort of zealot had she become? The worst kind. The selfish kind. The sort of zealot that walked forward in the tapestry of something new - and that which was new, was dangerous.

She was the tempered flame of chaos and the guiding hand for all the wretched and unloved creatures willing to listen - Gerwald Lechner was wise to regard her with hesitation, for Lirka Ka venerated the swirling chaos of existence for a great many reasons. He would learn that in time, almost certainly, rank bred ego and ego bred the sort of overconfidence that allowed Lirka to prattle more openly about her wayward religion. For certainly did the Once-Sephi have an answer to every question, rhetorical or otherwise.

Answer desired or not.

She stood there, uncharacteristically silent. A droid like sentinel as she rolled over each word from the dread wolf’s mouth. She understood the prospect - she had done the same plenty of times before, point the flame towards the power of productivity. But for now, she would have her fun. Words slowly rumbling out from her helm like an engine’s hum.

“Despite everything, something within Lirka Ka is still Sephi. We are a passionate people, great fans of theater and arts.”

She was so far removed from Thustra and the Sephi people at this point that the statement was a silent humorless joke for herself than anything else. Lirka adored posturing, she adored the politics of it all. It was a game really, a childish and idiotic game more often than not. But that did not remove the fun from it all - so long as she was winning, obviously.

“And of course, we can not forget that Sephi do not perceive time quite the same way as the…younger…species of the Galaxy. There will always be time - at least, till the Darkness reclaims.”

One of her hands unclasped from her back as Lirka began to add the twirling finger to add that little bit of extra weight to her words.

“Oh no, Dread Wolf, Imperator, Councillor, War Master. What irritates Lirka Ka is this incessant disease of moralism that seems to have taken hold of Sithdom as our mightiest of chain. So lofty we sit in our high towers believing ourselves just, as if such a thing was relevant to begin with.”

Morals had long since devolved to nothing within her black hearts. She was loathe to be reminded that many of her fellows kept that chain and called it order. In her own boundless ego, Lirka had come to feel the reason she stood where she was had all come down to her being a reminder of what laid within the darkness of all Sith, when one allowed themselves to become unbound by the chains of government and Empire - and as this new lot claimed, embraced that one , almost unfathomably cruel, Cosmic Chain that linked them all.

“Yes - that is what they would claim about Lirka Ka, isn’t it? Yet we must ask ourselves, my fellow. Would I stand where I am, with the titles to my name, if I were merely some slavering beast no better than one of the Kainate’s Graug? I destroy with purpose, and intent. My hand is levied carefully and with calculus. Your dilemma is misguided. I merely provide the outlets needed for those who have not been claimed by the disease - are we to imagine every world before us is worthy of careful babying, or that each is just another utterly worthless ball of rock? But, it is our right as the Strong to take from those too weak to resist. Would you not agree, Lord-of-Raiders?”

Lirka did not value life in the conventional sense. Indeed, the vast majority of sentient life in this Galaxy was only worth their weight in meat to her - but, a planet? Well, a planet did have more uses than a person.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Lirka Ka

“It is not a question of morality. It is a matter of unity.”

Gerwald allowed the words to exist without reinforcement. Lirka Ka remained motionless, her presence pressing against the space rather than filling it. The Dread Wolf observed the way she occupied the room, the discipline behind the stillness, and the intent in choosing not to move. This was not passivity. This was control.

“Tribalism will be our end. That is not a matter for debate. We can conquer one another, or we can conquer what lies beyond our borders. We cannot do both and expect anything we rule to endure.”

Attention stayed on her, not for visible reaction, but for the subtle shifts that followed words which mattered. The angle of her helm did not change. Silence remained measured. Lirka Ka listened while deciding how much of herself would be allowed to surface.

A hand passed across the holotable, and the projection shifted to display recent strikes and skirmishes. Gerwald did not study the individual points. He studied the pattern they formed and the inefficiency created by isolation.

“This is why the Commonwealth believes it has an argument. This is why Lady Arcanix attempted to pull on the leash of what you suggested. Your position required no debate, because others acted on it before you had the opportunity to impose direction.”

The image changed to reflect the aftermath of unchecked destruction. Infrastructure no longer functioned as intended, production had ceased, and resistance had vanished because nothing remained capable of sustaining it. Gerwald regarded the display without emotion. This was consequence rather than tragedy.

“If there is nothing left, there is nothing to gain. Where does your outlet lead when the structure it feeds upon collapses? Neither of us believes that force remains pointed outward when it loses purpose.”

Gerwald turned fully toward her. The movement was unhurried. The space between them felt smaller because his attention had narrowed.

“I am not arguing against what you are. I am arguing against what becomes inevitable when no one decides where force must stop.”

She was studied again, not as a curiosity and not as a threat. She was a variable, and variables demanded definition.

Silence settled into the command center. The wind outside pressed faintly against the hull, shaping the world beyond through erosion rather than mercy.

“That is my dilemma. Not whether you are unleashed, but whether what you unleash continues to serve the best interest of the Order.”

The map zoomed onto Maya Kovel.

“The world we sit on now… we don’t need the people here. We need to instill fear in the people of Chalcedon and the other surrounding worlds. If they accept Sith rule without expending too many resources, all the better. Tell me, she-elf, what lessons did we learn in firefist, hmm?”

He hoped she would see where he was attempting to lead her.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Unity.

What a crock of bantha shit.

Of course, she'd keep that little tidbit to herself. Lirka did not allow herself to let the idea of true unity enter her soul - power and unity were forces in conflict, always. Tribalism was within the very nature of Sithdom, it flowed with the ego of strength and the winding coils of belief that allowed this Empire to hone its razor-edged knife. The Dark Path was certainly clear enough. Transience was strength. And so long as one Sith attempted to smother the other the Sith would remain a transient, and fluid lot.

Yet for all her fiery zealotry, Lirka was a weaselly and serpentine fiend - there was no grand shift in her movement when the eyes of Gerwald Lechner fell upon her - her cards were staying close on matters of Sith-on-Sith violence. It took only a keen mind, and one with the desire to delve into the archives of the horrors that crawled out of the Malsheem to see just how much of the power-suit around her figure was refined for the murder of Sith...

Though there was at least something that earned a mechanical snort of equal parts amusement and disgust.

"What? Lord Strosius and the bankers? Let us not delude ourselves that either can have direction imposed beyond them. They will operate as they please till the axe is brought down upon their neck - I suppose be thankful that the Wonosan fool does not have the backing of the Tsis'Kaar's armies."

A silent reminder of just how useful stomping down on a rodent could be. The lord of the Wonosa certainly were their rightful heir, and Lirka couldn't have allowed that to transpire. It was a thankful thing that she had two like-minded monsters to perform their shattering of the assassins. Slit lenses acknowledge the images of fiery destruction that the Councilor flashed before her...and Lirka felt nothing. A reminder of conflict - a reminder of how fragile the existence of the weak was.

"There is always something to be gained. May it be the meat left in the wake, or the rock that smolders beneath their feet. Are we not the masters of industry, Dread Wolf? Look upon what has been built at the snap of our fingers, flying factories disgorge the contents of their forges to the worlds. Every aspect of plebian existence has been so carefully crushed under the soulless suffocations of mechanized efficiency. The Malsheem unleashes its horde of arms and armor, plundering worlds to feed its hunger unending. The Darklight had industrialized our very culture as it can stab the teachings of the church into any world of our choosing. Every crater left, we can rebuild into an Eidolon of Sith superiority."

The "best interest of the order" was a concept that amused Lirka greatly - it was a nebulous thing, ultimately. If one considered comfort their interest, Lirka certainly was quite the foe. Lirka Ka loathed the comfort of power, the indulgences of gluttony were a temporary thing till they were stripped away by the darkness beyond.

"The storm will ebb and flow with the opening and closing of my fist. Do not mistake the actions of Lirka Ka for those of a mindless savage, for she moves with purpose with each step. I destroy what is worthy of destruction, and save that which is more use to us alive. You say it clearly yourself, we sit upon a world whose people bring us little value. Do they deserve some great care, or the rock they sit upon?"

Then followed the cold calculus of war and conquest rather than the waxing and waning of philosophy.

"Firefist remains no different than anything other bout. The Nagai are useful, they earned a careful hand. The Tof were not. So they suffered beneath the flame. The core will follow the same trend, in the end. If we wish to show the surrounding systems' terror, then Maya Kovel must fall swiftly, and brightly. Let the shock and the awe rumble through the whole sector with how quickly the storm of the Sith can engulf a world - perhaps, they will even learn to bend the knee while the thunder roars."

Of course. Shock and awe was certainly a concept that could take many forms - perhaps a notion intentionally vague.