Private At Long Last

[Darth Nwul]

The Aftermath swooped in low over the red sands, the wicked-fast corvette showing no hint of slowing as it dodged another mountain, crossing endless dunes of scoured earth. Occasionally there'd be a hint at the newfound corruption that had returned to the world. A single humanoid figure standing destitute in the wastes, blank eyes staring up at the enormous shadow of the starship as hit came in closer to its destination. The world's unsettling chill had grown more intense in recent days, time had passed since the Ashlan had been scoured off the world. Now only the Sith Remained, restored, renewed. The black-tinted raider-class corvette slowed as it neared the growing city formed at the center of a newfound Sith Powerbase before coming to a full stop. It turned amidst the eyes of the dead and lowered itself to the ground.

The boarding ramp lowered, and the chill in the air was suffused with heat. A wave of unholy temperature rippled through the air, invisible, but black as night. The dead turned to witness the creature descending the ramp, a man in a black cassock and red sash accompanied by two women in hooded robes. He stopped at the edge of the ramp and regarded the creatures, a wide smile on his face as his golden eyes surveyed the monstrosities Darth Caedes had used to stake his claim on Korriban. Magnificent. The Sith raised his head and released his own presence, that heat growing more vibrant as the full spectrum of emotion was brought to bear. The creatures could see what normal beings could not, the intense wrongness that writhed behind those eyes.

They parted, and Nwul, who had cast aside the name Wake, began his walk across the sands to the home of his host. The man who had, in his own way, guided him in the direction he needed to see clearly for the first time. He had landed far away out of respect, he was not one of Darth Caedes' apprentices or part of his true inner circle. An outsider in his own right. But one who considered himself an ally. He drifted across the sands until he spotted the first signs of civilization, from there he passed into the city. He paid no mind to the eyes watching him as he made his way down the paths. His mind was focused on one thing alone.

This was the world where many of the specters he had consumed had died. There was a strong resonance here. It didn't help that this was one of the sacred worlds of the Sith. The intensity was not lost on him, and he savored it even as he converted it into power. Every waking moment spent building his reserves, growing, seeking that next step, that next level. He let out a breath and let the emotions he had been building wash out into the area around him. Elation. Joy. Excitement. Affection. The intense positive emotions mixed together into a soup that caught fire like oil. The blaze of Zeal rippled through the air as he made his way up and up, towards the domain of the new ruler of this world. Figures moved to intercept him and he stopped.

"I am Nwul, Steward of the Dark Side. I have come to offer my respects to the King of Korriban," Nwul called out, unable to keep the amusement from his voice, "Tell him the wily brat has returned."

He was curious to see what kind of reception the King of Korriban had in store for him.

Darth Caedes

 

[Darth Caedes]

<< Through power, I gain victory. >>
— The Sith Creed

Darth Nwul
​

Korriban lay broken and rebuilding, bleeding even while its heart yet beat. Yet still, the Kingdom arose. For weeks now, all across the planet's surface, the sounds of ship engines and machine chatter had replaced the screams of dying Ashlans. As visionaries and labor forces, contractors and wealthy investors, industrial machines and the groaning, metal churn of resurgence filled the streets and local community centers, one by one, Korriban's cities returned to vibrancy and became something approaching 'home' once more.

Around those cities and within, around Varshûl and Marr'ek, Dreshdae and Kaniset, within Sylkahn and Môtalar, forming neatly ordered and obedient rows, thicker than thousands, the undead roamed and wound about like blood through the veins of Korriban. Gathered together in the shadows behind city walls, packed into the cramped tunnels beneath streets and industrial districts, the undead groped one another and babbled in the darkness. Around Garôth and Kyn Vâlar, huddled together and feasting on the flesh of Ashlan remains as they were flung from atop city walls, within Tûlak and Mor'kâl and Ultûr, richly adorned in white linens and gold jewelry to serve nobles and pedestrian labor forces alike. Gradually, Korriban reached out to touch greatness again.

From each of those thousands upon thousands of steady, cold, glowing gazes, perched as if a passive observer of their collective hunger, Darth Caedes insinuated his consciousness. As teeth gnashed and undead stomachs groaned for the next meal, he was there with them, watching, conducting their will. Like rows of imperial troopers, the dead surrounded Nwul and his companions, wrapped in perfumed bandages and closing the lanes of escape behind him. For miles, the grand promenade of Vardin stretched out behind Nwul, leading through the city's elaborate governmental districts and, ultimately, to the palace itself. Within, eventually, Korriban's King would take court and the city's newfound leadership would rest comfortably in the highest seats of power. ​

"Nwuuuuuul," whispered the first hooded figure from atop the palace steps, as if savoring the taste of the name.​

"Heee hasss beeen expecting you," continued the second where the first left off, each speaking from the void of an infinite blackness where otherwise a face might be. Like puppets of a single string, the figures turned toward the palace gates and grew still, bowing their heads and gesturing to direct Nwul's gaze. ​

​

There, in the stretched shadows cast beneath Korriban's setting sun and the open maw of a recently abandoned palace, a strange figure emerged. He was beautiful and young, clad in tasteful albeit minimalistic dark robes and black leather armor in the traditional Sith style. Indeed, the normalcy of the figure's garb stood as if in stark contrast to the sheer, stunning oddity of his face. Rippling gold, like the glow of celestial firelight, spread outward from the youth's brow across a handsome face, like light shining forth from beneath the skin, forming intricate patterns like the scales of a reptile. His ageless eyes seemed to capture and strangle the light from Horuset's dying rays, their penetrating gaze coming to rest upon Nwul.

"It's King Ascending," he corrected with a smooth, purring voice. The creature's grin was warm and lop sided, almost sarcastic, revealing glances at sharp teeth belonging to something altogether inhuman.​

"A King must have a Kingdom to rule, not merely an army." With an outstretched arm, he indicated the sea of richly dressed undead with neither awe nor derision.​

"Until then, the Lord Caedes of which you speak is but a humble servant of the dark side, as are all Sith. Come," he said, beckoning to Nwul.​

"The one you seek rules from atop the Ebon Sovereign's Perch, within. He has prepared a grand spectacle for you. I will take you there, myself."​

Without a moment's waste, the radiant man turned and vanished into the darkness of Vardin's conquered palace.​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Nwul raised an eyebrow at the hooded figure, the raspy voice coming from beneath it drawing his attention. Wow, that's creepy, he thought, but it was absolutely Darth Caedes' aesthetic. He had to admit that the man had a flair for the dramatic as well as a deep love of Sith Culture. Only weeks had passed and Caedes was making such a deep effort to revive the ways of their people. Nwul respected it, admired it even. He nodded, "I figured he's been waiting for a while, I'll have to apologize proplerly for being late," Nwul said casually.

The new figure that arrived was a magnificent specimen, how curious. Nuwl eyed the man's handsome face and his lip twitched with amusement. What was he trying to emulate here? Interesting. He met the being's eyes and returned the penetrating gaze with one of his own. The twisting threads and writhing wrongness beneath his gaze reflecting back. He snorted out a laugh when the creature corrected Nwul. "Hah! You're quite right, fair enough. This is not a kingdom yet," Nwul agreed and betan to walk towards the being.

"He certainly knows how to greet someone," Nwul said thoughtfully, falling into step with the being. "Yes of course, I'm happy to come along, I'm actually rather curious as to what he's been up to. We compared notes before parting ways," He sighed whistfully. He had originally planned on swearing loyalty to Caedes, but the dark side had guided him away from Korriban and had confronted him with many truths. He was not ready to make such a decision. Something was calling out to him.

He could still feel it.

Nwul gripped his chest as the many minds that made up his own roiled in concert. He had fully consumed them, made them a part of himself, but they were still a burden in some ways and on occasion they liked to rebel a little, like this. They sensed his indecision, his desire to go a simpler path. An easy route. They challenged his commitment to his stewardship. He crushed them without a single thought of mercy, ruthlessly ripping through them in a fragment of a second as the feelings passed. He would not have the strength of his belief questioned.

He let out a breath after controlling himself again, "I wonder what he has in mind..." He said, letting some good humor come back to him.

Darth Caedes

 

[Darth Caedes]

<< Through power, I gain victory. >>
— The Sith Creed

Darth Nwul
​

The glowing man trod along before Nwul, contented to let him chatter, himself remaining quiet and amused, guiding them. Together, they pushed deeper into Vardin's palatial grounds, ascending long staircases overlooking grand statuary and sinister art. Balcony walkways exposed a great city under construction, untethered from all traces of its prior Ashlan zealotry. Richly adorned, undead and unmoving sentinels stood guard at each entryway in pairs, their hollow-yet-glowing eyes as still as the predator waiting to pounce.

"I wonder what he has in mind," admitted Nwul. In response, the glowing man slowed his pace and affixed the Sith with a knowing grin.​

"And in so doing, you reveal the contents of your own," he replied, enigmatically.​

"Tell me, do the servants of Korriban within you yet whisper of their ancient loyalties to the Sith King?" ​

​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Nwul snorted at the remark tossed his way. There were few beings in the galaxy that could decipher the borderline-encoded contents of his mind. But his surface thoughts, he supposed, were rather direct at the moment. He chuckled a little as he walked alongside the strange man. He wondered for a moment if the curious fellow was a new face for Caedes. He didn't know about Caedes' nature as a clawdite, but he did know enough about powerful sorcerers that appearance was only an obstacle. Frankly he was considering a jump into a new look sometime soon. Maybe something cozier?

He shook his head and dismissed the thought, "If only it were like having ghosts in my mind, no, it is more like having thousands of stray thoughts all at once, each providing their own opinion," Nwul explained amiably, "But if I had to put it into such a context, it is more like they question my commitments."

"No one questions my faith," He said, his tone dropping to a level of fatality.

He cleared his throat and waved a hand, "Sorry! Been a while since I've been this candid, haha! So where are we now, give me a tour!" He insisted, turning his attention on their surroundings and away from the probing questions about his eldritch mental state.

Darth Caedes

 

[Darth Caedes]

<< Through power, I gain victory. >>
— The Sith Creed

Darth Nwul ​

The glowing man smiled at Nwul in a way which showed too many sharp teeth to be entirely safe or friendly; though if there were some intended threat from the expression, it failed to reach his unmoving, reptile-eyes.

"I see," he replied in a near whisper, gesturing offhandedly as if tossing the thought against a wall.​

He led Nwul higher and deeper into Vardin's castle; a massive structure boasting of simplistic, rounded architectural flairs, sweeping balcony views from sky-scraping suites, and otherwise none of the marks of its treacherous Imperial history. For thousands of years, Vardin had been the epicenter for the Sith's dark ambitions upon Korriban. A powerful and well placed city, easily defendable and resource wealthy, it often held a notable sway in the grand politics of ancient Empires (c. 7000 BBY). Once, the courts of this palace had been known as the Ebon Blood Tithes. Since then, the Ashlan squalor had attempted to replace Vardin's hateful history with one of peace and democracy. For a time, only the most beloved were elected to rule Vardin's palatial city, celebrated by parades and fits of overeating. They had all died here too, or so the reports had detailed. In fact, the soot stained and burnt, blackened walls, pillars, and ceiling told evident stories of rampant fire and ash.

"The Ebon Sovereign's Perch," said the glowing man at last, turning to indicate two massive, ornately carved, stone doors.​

A pair of Dread Lords stood watch here, the sheer mind rending horror of their visage in stark contrast to the radiance of Nwul's guide. They studied Nwul and the other, their empty gazes scrutinizing, then gestured and called upon the Force. Slowly, atop the resonant grind of stonework, the doors pulled open to a throne room beyond.

There was no rear wall in the Sovereign's Perch. Instead a long, fenceless ledge jutted out from the palace like the blade of a knife, overlooking Vardin's mountainous horizons and the far off, infamous Valley of the Dark Lords. Arrayed in a semi-circle within the Perch were a series of individualized thrones. In total, they numbered 13, though some of the ornate chairs had been burnt or otherwise destroyed in the calamity of Korriban's reclamation. Beyond, sounding of far off rhythmic thunder, the thud... thud... thud... of tens of thousands of undead Jen'ari warriors slamming crude weapons against the ground greeted Nwul.

"Darth Caedes awaits you within," came the purring voice.​

Thud... thud... thud...

Taking initiative, each Jen'koshû Dread Lord hefted their longswords with an uncanny sense of unison, then stepped into the throne room beyond. Servile and observant, the glowing man took to Nwul's flank and made as if to close the door behind him, gesturing him forward.
Thud... thud... thud...

The room held no obvious signs of occupancy, and the air here carried with it that sickly sweet smell of rich mulches and decay. They entered, and the doors slid shut once more. Abruptly, an anguished shriek of pain erupted from the space just behind Nwul, where once the glowing man had stood. Its noise echoed across the vast Perch's chamber, sounding dry throated and deranged, caught somewhere half way between cackling and agony. A flood of dark power surged forth, barely contained in the Force, washing over the young Sith Knight and cascading down to the thousands beyond.

"You have grown... powerful... young Wake Nayne," came a new voice altogether, beaten and dry, almost tired, and eerily calm.​

Darth Caedes stepped past Nwul, placing a hand atop his shoulder in a gesture of familiarity. He wore the same garb as the glowing man before him, though his was a dull and awful face; a burnt face, shrouded in the darkness of a cowl to be given light only by two, luminous and unblinking, red-glowing eyes.

"Or should I now call you... Darth Nwul...?"​

​

Thud... thud... thud...​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Nwul's expression grew complicated, he'd had something of a gut feeling riding him since he'd arrived but he thought nothing of it. The mysterious man becoming no more than a curiosity and tour guide as he made his way towards the top. The architecture was magnificent, remnants of ancient Sith culture all around him. He savored the feeling of it all, his eyes glittering, The pillars, stained by history, seemed even more beautiful now than they probably had been when they were first made.

He followed the glowing man's gesture and spotted the perch, the Dread Lords standing there would have fractured a lesser mind. But Nwul was Legion now. The pressure simply spreading throughout the myriad minds he had consumed. He smiled at the nightmares like they were old friends, he waited for their approval before the doors opened with a gesture. The display of power was incredible. Positively incredible. Caedes had taken pains to settle in with gusto, his presence was without a doubt felt in every instant.

The scene took Nwul's breath away. Magnificent.

Then he noticed, there was no one here. His expression thinned before his eyebrows rose. He smiled. Of course. That was his gut feeling. He should have- the anguished shriek drew him from his thoughts and he rounded on his heels expectantly. Instead of horrified, delight bloomed on Nwul's face. His smile growing wider with each horrific second as the glowing man changed, transforming into the mighty King of Korriban. Nwul's heart soared. What a magnificent trick! He had to learn it! He beamed at Caedes as the man placed a hand atop his shoulder.

"Caedes, it is such a pleasure to see you, what a grand welcome!" He crowed, reaching out and placing a hand on the man's shoulder in response, "Slave and God my Lord," Nwul said in greeting with a faint incline of his head.

He snorted out a laugh, "Darth? You honor me, but..." Nwul shook his head, "My ambition does not allow me to use such a title yet."

Instead he diverted away from the topic with a grin, "How are you? I see things are going well here, but what about the man himself?"

Darth Caedes

 

[Darth Caedes]

<< Through power, I gain victory. >>
— The Sith Creed

Darth Nwul ​

Through the various forms he took, the eyes of Darth Caedes rarely changed, and now they rested heavily upon Nwul, piercing and appraising. He scowled a curious expression at the Sith's chosen greeting, and ultimately elected not to repeat such theocratic poetry in return. Let the other take the mantle of dogmatist, for scripture and divine writ surely baited and bound the masses with a comparable degree of efficacy to any other tool in the Sith's arsenal. Yet it was not the tool of Caedes, for he had learned long ago not to cast the Force in otherness to oneself, whether as God or Slave. The Force merely was, indivisible in its many reflections of self.

Presently, Caedes withdrew from their embrace and led the pair across the room of the Ebon Sovereign's Perch, ever towards the music of the Horde.

"I am tired," he said simply, pressing fingers to his forehead in a manner which made him suddenly appear very old. ​

The light in the room around him dimmed and become muted. He glanced up but, for a moment, it seemed as if he couldn't recognize the man stood across from him, nor the strange setting of Vardin's tower.

Thud... thud... thud...

Darth Caedes' frailty was short lived, the noise of war shaking him from his vacancy, a cruel smile blooming from scorched lips and melted skin. Forward, he felt the call of the Force. He let his grey fingers trail against the central throne in its passing, an almost an absent gesture as he was beckoned into the thrumming music of Korriban's Horde. The echoing sound of boots clattering from chamber walls ended abruptly as Caedes led them outside. Miles at a time, the world of Korriban opened up as if to swallow them, revealing endless horizons, plunging heights, and the perilous knife-side-edge of the Perch's balcony.

"I am tired for I have been busy," Darth Caedes claimed, victorious. ​

"And this," he gestured to the many undead thousands making music below him, their rhythmic noise slow to reach the Sith's ears from so far away.
​

Thud... thud... thud...

"This is but the beginning. A time swiftly approaches wherein Korriban will no longer satisfy the needs of the horde. Soon, the conquest of entire worlds will be the only meal fit to slake their hunger." ​

Caedes held his arms outstretched, reaching out with his senses to breathe in the cruel desires and wicked ambitions each Jen'ari below let bleed into the greater Force around them.

"Long have they slumbered, Nwul. Now, they desire more."​

All together, the Jen'ari masses screamed. It was a bellowing, simian cacophony of hooting and throaty, undulating shrieks. Caedes seemed to draw it all in like music, like fine smelling smokes or expensive alcohols on the tongue. Then, just as suddenly as it had all begun, Caedes dropped his arms and the Jen'ari's song became silent; thousands becoming perfectly still, even as their haunted cries echoed and stirred across the expansive and chilly deserts, reflected from distant mountain ranges and slung back at Vardin's capital city. He turned on Nwul with a pointed stare, his lips pulled tight in a conspiratorial grimace.

"Can I expect the Bogan's Constellation Shipyards to be ready for production with our new star iron by the time of my desire's arrival? Soon, we will need a fleet worthy of carrying Korriban's vengeance unto the galaxy." ​

​

 

[Darth Nwul]

Nwul walked alongside his friend in silence, a smile dancing on his face even as his eyes became cool and focused. He was not bothered by Caedes shift in presence when he heard Nwul's phrasing, it was his own belief and one that his followers accepted. It was not something he would force on someone he respected. Instead, he remained quiet, the sounds of the horde nearby not drawing his eyes away from the wizened face of his friend. A moment of frailty, of strangeness, of confusion, the madness that came with power affected them all differently. Instead of recoiling, Nwul offered Caedes a gentle and understanding smile.

"I know, friend," He said, only for his smile to burst a bit wider as the cruel smile that was far more recognizable bloomed on Caedes face. He inclined his head as they moved further, eventually arriving at the balcony where they looked down upon the magnificence that was Korriban. Nwul felt his heart soar, his eyes sparkling with delight. "You have built quite the war machine here, my friend," The mischevious Sith crowed, looking down at them all.

His smile grew dark, "Good, desire is an absolute necessity," He murmured and drank in the screams, hoots, cries and shrieks, their passions rising up in the air. He savored it but did not absorb it, this was power for Caedes to enjoy, not his own. Rather he waited until Caedes dropped his arms and turned to him conspiratorially.

"Ah, my pet project, yes, I've trained a number of your alchemists in the process of refining the star iron and the large scale shipyards will be ready, I have tasked some old friends with taking over the project, they will not be disobedient," Nwul grinned darkly. "Garon Saxton is the engineer that devised the shipyards, he is mine, but will make whatever you request of him. A brilliant man, obedient, if willful at first," Nwul snorted and shrugged. "But where's the fun in having a minion that doesn't have a little bit of spirit?"

He laughed and sighed, "Not that he has it anymore," He muttered, lowering his hands to his sides, "You'll have your ships, my friend, the Dark Side wills it that I provide you this support and see that you are made ruler of Korriban. And so I will without hesitation."

Darth Caedes