Building on Broken Foundations

[Ras'kala'han]

Ankhypt​

Desert of Unknown Gods​

Theme​

​

Pleasure had failed Antherion. Decadence had failed him. How he had thrashed in joy at the burning of Ession, how he had salivated at the thought of taking Malachor as his jewel. How he had hoped, and yearned, and delighted and wished. How he had desired. Seize too tightly, and everything you want to hold will crumble to dust within your hand. To take was folly, to have was mastery.

The self-proclaimed superior being had been promised a new flesh, and had promised himself a new kingdom. Instead, he found himself a butcher wading through corpses and propagating violence. Nothing but a warrior, an architect of genocide, a slave to many. The Sith Code failed him.

The holocron he had dredged from deep ruins had whispered something to him. An echo beneath an echo: "Nothing is lowlier than to be a God."

Ankhypt sat in the unknown regions, a jewel in the darkness. Its cities gleamed with sunlight, its people divided into glorious and oppressed, its dynasty infused with the Force. Rivers wound through cities, and life flourished. People struck mines, and found new being in crystalline colonies. Even the dead would not rest, bid move and twitch at the Force's bidding. ​

​

His cybernetics were heating up - metal underneath skin, metal in his throat. He could hear an audible whir of coolant fans as his neck-piece pumped air through his skin from his environment into his lungs, steady even as the wind howled, even as sweat slicked his brow.

This was punishment from the only one who had authority to punish him - himself. No true punishment, like one might mete out to a child, but a pathway to redemption from the ordinary. More than that, a pathway revealed by vision in the Force.

From across the Galaxy, they would come - the kings, the nobles, the warriors. Drawn to the singularity at the edge of the unknown. The threads of the Force and history would pull them to the one place. The past would decide the future and transcend the present. The moment would become eternity, and nothing will be as it was.​

​

He didn't dare rest, didn't dare bring another -- his ship drifted above watchfully, the autopilot following his transponder, but it would only watch. If he fell here, he would die here. Parched, dressed in rags, he found the tomb of kings, the meeting place. The fulcrum. He pushed forwards, inhaling slightly in the shadow of the stone.

​

​

One by one, they would come to the place where the future would be created. Called by dreams, by nightmares, by happenstance. Called to the grave. To the cradle.​

​

| [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] | [member="Ankharbis the Great"] | [member="Beleth"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Draven Asterisk"] | [member="Qamaria Nasha"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"] |​

 

[Velon Ielor]

Velon was among the first to arrive. The Dark Jedi Master had spent thousands of years, trying to kill the Jedi, eliminate them. He had spent his years as a One Sith, joining their inquisition to purge the light. Now, here he was, a powerful, but a man that was alone. No one knew who he was; no one knew what he could do. He had the chance of establishing a new life for himself, and that was what he was going to do.

A ripple had been sent across the force, even to the deepest of the unknown regions, one that had made the Anzat leave his planet, and return to the known galaxy once more. He was well aware that he was in the region known as Wild Space; nevertheless, unlike the Unknown Regions, Wild Space still had hyperspace lanes that connected to the galaxy's most traveled hyperspace routes.

Ankrypt- the planet of the ancients. He had heard of a mysterious planet, but even the former DJOTB member was not aware i had existed. Nevertheless, through the power of the force, he had arrived, wondering what purpose he was here for. More importantly, he wondered one thing:

Why had the force called him here?

 

[Darth Eversor]

Drifting aimlessly among the stars, a disturbed presence violated all within its grasp. Bathed in light, a wounded - shattered soul allowed his phantom limbs to subside as he was refitted with a new appearance, but with an old familiar sting. Failure haunted his thoughts, as did his loss to [member="Darth Carnifex"] back on Panatha. Abraxas was a fool for believing he was able to subjugate the throne of the God-King.

Death loomed over the Epicanthix knight as his mantle and armor were fitted to his body. The cold graze of alchemized metal sending dull pain throughout his recently repaired body. With crimson cloak clasped together by a silver chain, Darth Eversor became an image of authority and intimidation once more. His footfalls against metal grates were slow yet calculated with a militant demeanor.

Beneath the suit, the muscles of the Sith tensed as he could feel a concoction of drugs swirl through his veins - an additive to his new plan so that he may retain full potential in combat; however, with the loss of limbs, Darth Eversor's power within the Force was dampened. He would have to fight harder, strain his mind to show that he was not weak, that he still held a significance towards the bigger picture of the galaxy.

Observing the passing lights in the inky blackness of space through a viewport, the Sith suddenly felt something ping from within - a disturbance in the Force.

A planet, a place never before visited, it held something of importance.

Something beckoned... and he would unveil it.

Giving orders for the shuttle to land, Darth Eversor watched eagerly as he could feel the presence coming on much more profoundly than at a distance.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Upon exiting, the Sith felt the overbearing heat of the desert, small gusts of wind flecked his being with bursts of sand. Observing the horizon and the countless dunes in the distance, the crimson-cloaked warrior traversed the foreign land in search of the presence he had felt so strongly upon entry into the atmosphere. Sweat began to form on his brow, and the irritability due to the drugs coursing through his system wasn't helping.

And then, it was there once more. Something familiar.

Heading in the direction in which the Force guided him, Darth Eversor expressed some form of humor. A weak grin barely curling the ends of his mouth.

He knew who was here...

[member="Antherion"] | [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] | [member="Ankharbis the Great"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Draven Asterisk"] | [member="Qamaria Nasha"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Aria Vale"]

 

[Amelia von Sorenn]

​

​

Harbinger class Cathedral Ship - The Tasgetius ​

​

The call had reached one, and with it came a legion...

A near blinding flash tore across the void of space above the world, the massive vessel slowly lumbering forward, its large pylons slowly opening as the vessel slowed a few thousand meters from the world. Whatever had the power to call such a thing was also to be wary of, and this vessel was not crewed by the insane or idiotic. Rather it was crewed by those of something else entirely, and standing upon the bridge was the woman that they followed. Her golden hues fell upon the desert world below, a snarl upon her lips as she thought of the sun and the heat of the day. A low hiss escaped from her lips before she composed herself.

"Ma'am, multiple vessels detected. Some in orbit, others already on the ground."

"Positive life signs on the ground ma'am. Billions of them..."

The crew was in its own pace, rushing back and forth between the various stations and ensuring that the readings they were bringing in were correct. Each time one reading came in, it was quickly double checked for accuracy before the next was brought forward. The woman merely smirked, her arms crossing above her breast as she rolled her head slightly, stretching her neck. Stepping forward, the armored woman remained focused upon the world below. If there were that many, then what she had right now would not be enough if they so chose to view her coming as an attack.

A small smirk grew across her lips, the thought of being attacked though was not in her forefront. No, something had called them here, somehow, and for what reason she wanted to know. Slowly the Countess pivoted upon her hind heel, her golden eyes falling upon two women with her. [member="Darth Mara"], sired by the Countess herself and taken as her lover. Her attention slowly slipped back to [member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"], her adopted daughter.

Stepping forward she stood between the two of them, her back to the large view screen as she spoke to the bridge crew.

"Bring us into a high orbit, make sure to inform any that question that we are here peacefully, though will defend ourselves if we must."

"Ma'am."

"Prepare a shuttle, and inform the Sigma Preatorian to meet me in the hanger bay."

"Yes Ma'am."

Amelia took a moment to look over her shoulder, looking back at the world that called to them, or rather the world that held whatever had called them to this place. Another hiss escaped her lips before she spun back around and moved towards the doors of the bridge. Stopping as the doors slowly hissed opened, she kept her focus forward.

"With me, both of you."

She said, clearly her more stern and focused side was in control, any sign of affection could be held for later.

| [member="Ankharbis the Great"] | [member="Beleth"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Draven Asterisk"] | [member="Qamaria Nasha"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | ​

 

[RC 212]

[member="Antherion"] [member="Velon Ielor"] [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] [member="Beleth"]

He had travelled thousands of light years from Korriban to get here. The pull of the Dark was strong to this place, but it was even more ancient. It held an Eldritch type of energy he ad never experienced before. And Apiculius the Cunning yearned to be a part of that energy. He was drawn out of curiosity like a moth to a flame.

The Xo'Xann Star Destroyer began to break orbit, with him in his meditation chamber, feeling out the intense matrix.

"My Lord, we are coming towards the source."

He growled, floating down from mid air and coming to his feet. He reached out his hand, and his corrupted Ankarres wood staff met his palm with a meaty smack.​

​

"Prepare the Deathguard. Let us see what this world has to offer."​

 

[Bestat]

The night was cool and refreshing from the long hot day. Bastet walked slowly around the gardens listening to that which swirled around them all forming and shaping their destinies.

Where she dwelled near the Oasis of Souls under the care of the Mau which served her and acted as her army and guards watched over the slaves and architects that built her home. They were artisans and engineers. They dug deep into the water table beneath the oasis to bring up the waters that would filter through the temples and living quarters of Bastet, also called Bast, and sometimes called by a secret name that only those closest to her knew. This water brought comfort and ease to all within the walls of Bastet's home.

She walked into the gardens under a night sky looking up trying to read what was there all around her the sounds of Ankhypt swirled. The heart of Ankhypt urged her to go. So much so that it was keeping her awake tonight. Those who tended her, the Mau tried their best to entertain and occupy her mind. But it was not happening she kept being drawn to go somewhere. She could not deny that which called to her.

Shaking off her true form she melted into her other form and called for a chariot to take her across the burning sands. Whatever was coming it tingled on her senses of Ankhypt calling to her sense of war. Many names those around her called her they saw her in many forms thou she could only manipulate a few. It was the craft of the Mau that helped to provide the sense that she was able to do more.


Within moments she was moving across the sands drawn to a single focal point.

 

[Ankharbis the Great]

[Theme]​

Ankharbis had been awaiting the arrival of the others for several days now. His royal procession of bodyguards and servants had established a lavish meeting room within one of the emptied chambers of the tomb. It's treasures and occupant had been looted years ago by enterprising treasure hunters, but it still served well enough for occasions such as this. The Pharaoh reclined comfortably upon a throne, which towered over the meeting table set up in front of him, his whims tended to by a plethora of seductively dressed servant girls, a large group of Human, Cathar and Anubian women respectively while his cohort of elegantly and heavily armed Anubian Royal Guardsmen kept a wary vigil to protect their ruler. Ankharbis had garbed himself in an elegant silken kilt, his royal Nemes headdress and an extravagant amount of golden jewellery which covered his muscular, toned form, the result of regular exercise sparring in his private training yard within the Royal Palace of Ankhypt.

"I sense our guests approach. Servants, bring out the food and wine so our new arrivals might enjoy all we of Ankhypt have to offer.", the Pharaoh said in a commanding tone of voice, swarms of servants hurriedly preparing the meeting table so each guest might have some refreshment upon their arrival.

[member="Bestat"]
[member="Apiculius the Cunning"]
[member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"]
[member="Beleth"]
[member="Velon Ielor"]
[member="Antherion"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

So long ago, the act of walking had been so easy. No, not so long ago -- it was what? Weeks. At the most, it was a few standard months and he had felt the throes of pain, yes, but he had felt so alive. Now, Antherion didn't hurt badly, but felt it profoundly. His mind seethed with rage, but his body was tired and failing. The wires and metal that sustained him felt so heavy, moved so uneasily. Everything he once was able to not think about now felt like a sharp, conscious effort on his behalf.

This was drowning while trying to stay afloat: not a noisy display, but a silent, invisible struggle against a vast, yawning darkness. He could feel the heat burning against his white skin, but far more terrifying to him was the beckoning cold inside his being, spreading like a disease. He tried to deny it, but death was already in his body.

No. He must deny it, because to let death into his spirit was to reject life. And luckily for him, lust for life never demanded a soul.

"Yes, I can feel each of you..."

Limping, sighing with audible relief as he entered into the shroud of shade, he breathed in the scent of food and heavy incense, feeling the gaze of the war-like guardians on him. Opulence seemed to have enshrouded the empty building as the Pharaoh had taken it for his vessel of splendor.

"There are two ways to show power," his father had once said. "In the middle of emptiness, show luxury. But in the center of luxury, show discipline." A rare speck of wise sentiment from a foolish man of hubris. A weak man, who had deserved the death he received at his daughter's hand.

"I feel you, drinkers of blood. Coiled like serpents, adorned with all you have taken. You make oppression a meal, and war a feast -- yours is nobility."

Antherion seated himself at the end of the table. His robes, the plain, pale robes that would equally suit a peasant and a master, felt hot on his dry, chapped skin. His pallor was tinged with red where sand and friction had bit him, and small, unhealed injuries from the burning of Ession. His eyes glowed gold with unmasked power.

"I feel you, seekers of darkness. Clad in cunning and brutality, enthroned in everything you destroy. You make rage a sword, and contempt a shield -- yours is strength."

Offered a pot of wine, Antherion simply shook his head, his demeanor unsuited to the hedonism, and the veiled servant girls and the enticing feast laid before him, which he chose to ignore in spite of his body's spasms.

"And you, children of the desert. Dressed in gold and opulence, sharpened by stone. You make sand a kingdom, and dust a treasure -- yours is hunger."

The man gave pause, lifting a frail arm, scar tissue from the cybernetics that allowed him to move quite visible, and pointing a single finger towards the regal jackal. "So swiftly, you made this empty grave a palace. Yours is truly a mighty kingdom."

Antherion swept his hand out, pointing to the entryway, to the visible opening -- endless sand and desolation, the maw of destruction. "Mine is mighty as well. For it is there, but it is everywhere, and it also is within me. The kingdom of death."

"When the others arrive, I will tell you all how to take that kingdom's banners and conquer the Galaxy. Are you eager?"

| [member="Ankharbis the Great"] | [member="Bestat"] | [member="Beleth"] | [member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"] | [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] | [member="Velon Ielor"] | [member="Apiculius the Cunning"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Aria Vale"] |

 

[Asha Mataya]

Something was in the air. It had brought together countless of beings from all across the galaxy to this place, and Asha was one of them. She was here because of someone else, however. That person's name was [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"], the one who had saved her life and adopted her into her family. Looking out to the desert world below the vessel she was on she quickly slammed her eyes shut and backed off, the light hurting her eyes. Adjusting to being a vampire was something that took time, and even now she still had her struggles with it, but every day was a step forward.

When Amelia finished talking to the ship's crew and turned to Asha and [member="Darth Mara"], instructing the two to follow her. It was the stern side of her adoptive mother that was currently in effect, which the white-haired woman had gotten used to quite quickly. It seemed the trio would be taking a shuttle to the planet and considering the light of day was still shining bright she wasn't particularly looking forward to it. She didn't speak out however, instead electing to simply nod at Amelia's words and following her as she instructed her to. As the doors to the hangar hissed open she started walking, wondering what they would find once they got to the desert surface.

 

[Velon Ielor]

The Anzat entered the building, immediately being told by the servants to go to the meeting table. He could sense a variety of force signatures here. Out of the many, the former General could not sense any that interested him. Then again, he was not here to care for them, he was here to satisfy his own curiosity. Why had the force called him here? Was it for a purpose? He expected those questions to be answered today.

When Velon arrived at the meeting table, he saw [member="Antherion"], and [member="Ankharbis the Great"]. He had seen statues while he flew here of someone with a similar figure. So this must be their king. He didn't bow to him however. The Anzat also didn't bow to the former, He simply wanted to observe what was going on, before pledging himself to anything.

"Why have you called us?" the Anzat asked in a neutral epression, his helmet not revealing who he was. Their answers would determine if he would stay here, or leave.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Orbit above Ankhypt, The Eldritch

Gold and darkness. Luxury and death. Blood and hunger. Friends and enemies.

Nothing escaped the all seeing eye, not the legends of the past ages, not the entropy of the present and not even the endless labyrinth of a future shrouded in the maelstrom of light and darkness. The call of ancient power was heard beyond the limits of time, behind the veil that departed the living from the dead, until it finally reached the cursed stomes of the Drowned Archives deep below the black sea. While others only heard a mere whisper, a glimpse on past might that commanded them to mindlessly gather under one banner without knowing who had spoken, Darth Abyss had already seen the path the ever changing vortex of time would take.

He had seen his old crippled foe [member="Antherion"] reaching for a throne of his own, he had seen his apprentice [member="Darth Mara"] and her new kind, the hunters of the night plagued by a hunger not too different to his own. His eye also fell upon the children of Korriban, the devoted followers of the dark side. No one escaped his sight, not the golden pharaoh resting on his golde throne, and not those that only lived to serve him. The Mindeater was a more akin a force of nature than to a man, but it wasn't his raw power that made him on of the greatest dangers that the living could encounter when stumbling through the dark corners of the galaxy.

The Eldritch, the bane of the black sea, emerged from the shadows for just a moment to release a small shuttle into the emptiness. On board was the Prophet of Malachor and Katarr and a small delegation of his people. Pharaohs, Sith, Crime Lords, Cursed Pirate Kings. They all spoke the same language only with a different dialect. If you knew the future almost as intimately as the present, then it was possible to be prepared for an opportunity you weren't even meant to know about. His unmoving face allowed no insight into the feelings of the eldritch husk, it told not the tale of his disgust when it came to lowering himself to talk to little insects. Yet the Prophet had no pride, no arrogance to hold him back, even if he had ascended above the maggots that crawled through the sand below him.

The shuttle descended onto the desert, releasing Abyss and his faithful into the bright light of the sun that burned over their heads. Four of his elite Ghostmakers stood in formation around the hollow entity. Behind them followed eight Warlocks of Malachor. Ten slaves, dragging a shed filled to the brim with expensive trinkets through the sand, formed the end of the formation, guarded by fourteen warriors of the Tainted Legion. Right besides the Prophet stood a unassuming man, a agent of the Inner Eye in disguise, shrouded in the clothes of a noble. The insignia of the Prophet was engraved in white on the black cape attached to his gold and black attire. It was a simple show of his power, enough to prove his wealth and influence, but not enough to be seen as a threat.

The slightly deformed metal husk made his way through the desert, placing his weight on the wicked staff with a skull held by chain attached on top of it, the shining light reflection in the mix of dirty grey and rusty brown of his armor. Instead of a face he only had a twisted wooden mask, locked in place right above the motionless mechanical jaw that showed a taunting grin to those unlucky enough to cross his path. The figure was shrouded in a ragged black robe that danced in the desert's wind, and on the top of his head sat a anarchic crown, red crystal pieces and sharp metal bits held together by dark alchemy. His hands were claws, long inhuman talons that clearly marked his lack of humanity.

Once the group reached the makeshift palace his men came to a stop. The agent that stood besides the Mindeater was the only to enter, swiftly but respectfully bowing in front of [member="Ankharbis the Great"]. Holding his head low he began to speak while watching the crippled man in the edges of his peripheral vision.

"Your Highness, the Prophet of Malachor and Katarr kindly asks you for the right to join this meeting. As a sign of respect our leader has brought two famed gifts from our world: Slaves and plundered riches."

[member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"] [member="Bestat"] [member="Apiculius the Cunning"] [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] [member="Beleth"] [member="Velon Ielor"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

As the False Butcher came upon the structure, he noticed the presence of others as well. It wasn't difficult to assume that those also of the Force were drawn here, but for what reasons was obscure. Darth Eversor felt it unnecessary to comment or even pay attention to the small gathering outside of the palace, instead marching inside. No bow of respect was given, only observation; unfamiliar to the lot of those within his gaze, the Sith spoke freely and with a pinch of disrespect. "What is the reason for this?" The crimson cloaked figure radiated a pungent aura, one of deeply seeded anger and malice.

Resorting to violence outright was not in Darth Eversor's intent, but rather intimidation. Pride was ingrained into his very being, for the Sith and that of his past. For so long had the man fought with his identity and purpose, reckless and found wanting of conflict. But his realization was found, ironically within the bloodshed he thought himself capable of rising above.

He was no saint, no redemption miracle. His outlandish behavior only granted him a more painful coming to terms with his truest nature. And for this, disappointment fueled the burning anger, begging for the same ruin wrought upon so many that did not deserve gruesome mortality. The past could not be erased, and in some cases, must be embraced instead.

Paying no heed to the possibility of how offensive his intrusive introduction was, Darth Eversor merely stood still, silent and waiting.

[member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Ankharbis the Great"] | [member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] | [member="Bestat"] | [member="Apiculius the Cunning"] | [member="Velon Ielor"] | [member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"]

 

[Natalie LaForte]

What a boring journey. Natalie spoke into herself, trying to stop insanity from taking over. Sitting on a ship of such magnitude with no form of entertainment other than the small talk -- which they had a lot of -- on the hyperlane here. Thank God for hyperspace, if they were travelling here in realspace..? Yawn. The only thing that kept her interested was the sight of a new face, [member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"], whom she had sussed was a relative of some sort, unless Amelia was into polygamy.

As for the reason why [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] had chosen a desert, baron planet in the outer rim, she could not deduct an explanation. Though, her force affinity told her that there were powerful beings in this star system, some that were new, some which she had encounters previously.

The scorching sun would make this difficult task for her, though it was worth the price if the monolithic temples of Gods on the planet would pay out in the form of illustrious treasure and gold, but the duo present with her were not as materialistic as Natalie. There was a different reason.

"Very well." standing up and awaiting further orders.

[member="Beleth"] I [member="Darth Abyss"] I [member="Velon Ielor"] I [member="Antherion"] I [member="Ankharbis the Great"] I [member="Bestat"] I [member="Apiculius the Cunning"] I

 

[NightSister]

Aria Vale would never go so far as to call herself a servant of the Force. She would always serve herself above anyone and anything else, and any servitude she offered another was with the express purpose of her own benefit - when there was none more to be had, she'd be on her way and her focus would revert back to the wellbeing of herself and her small inner circle.

That said, when the Force called for her, she listened.

And oh, it had called for her stronger than it had in a long time. Like a stone thrown in a pond, like ripples reaching further and further. But she took off in pursuit of the siren call not from a sense of duty; the concept was pointless to her mind. When Aria took heed of the Force it was out of intrigue.
Needless to say, a call this strong had her very intrigued.

-​

​

Following the Force's call took her to Ankhypt without any particular trouble; finding her way through the desert to the desolate building at the end of its path took pleasingly little effort. She entered the hall and she could sense the dark side, see the dark side among the array of faces. Eyes widened in an almost reverent sense of wonder and she took her place around the table, head bowed in respect.​

​

| [member="Antherion"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Beleth"] | [member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"] | [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] | [member="Velon Ielor"] | [member="Ankharbis the Great"] |​

​

@whoever I missed​

 

[RC 212]

[member="Ankharbis the Great"]

ARRIVING AT THE PALACE!

He was an eager man Apiculius the Cunning. He did not concern himself with those he believed below him, nor did he consider most mortals his peers. Dark Energy from the force had kept him alive for millennia in the rotting underworld of Coruscant. Yet this was different.

His Venator landed as close to the Palace as possible, and flanked by his skull masked Deathguard, he arrived on the Palace steps with all haste. His staff of Corrupted Ankarres wood clacked against the stony ground and silt crunched under their heavy boots. A slight wind rustled the crow feathers of his Cloak.

"It is I, Apiculius the Cunning." He said from the Palace steps to the guards.

"I seek an audeince with whichever Lord or Lords you serve."

 

[Amelia von Sorenn]

The doors leading into the hanger bay hissed for a moment before the shuddered open, the shuttle resting quietly on the other side. A small smirk crossed her lips as she saw her personal bodyguard squad, her eyes slipping over each of them before the all too familiar voice was heard. Of course it had to be him, the old grumpy grandpa of the group, to be the one to speak.

"This is a horrible idea Knight-Commander. Allow us to go in your stead."

Bringing a hand up, she quieted the armored individual before looking over her shoulder at the two with her. Returning her attention back to the man, she nodded quietly before motioning for the squad to gather. Her eyes fell upon each of them as they fell in line, watching the armored knights saluting her before she nodded.

"Prepare for daytime hazards, at least until we're at the meeting point. Keep your visor shut at all times and do not remove your helmet. Ensure that everything is covered and that there are no tears or holes in your armor or bodyglove."

The group saluted before she turned back to her old friend, giving a nod to the man before she looked back to the others with her.

"Knight-Errant Tiovata and Knight-Errant Morituri, I am entrusting the safety of Natalie to you. I want her back in one piece, understood?"

"Ma'am."

"Knight-Errant Dorien and Knight-Errant Lassiter, you have Asha. Keep my daughter safe."

"Ma'am."

"That leaves you stuck with me Knight-Captain."

A low gruff grumble could be heard from under that helmet of his, causing a soft chuckle to escape her lips as she pivot upon her foot and moved towards the shuttle. Stopping at the crates that had been gathered for supplies, Amelia pulled one open, pushing the lid aside. She looked to her daughter and lover before motioning towards the containers. Within were a set of bodygloves and armor much like Amelia's own.

"Put it on. I don't want anything happening to either of you."

Amelia's Forces:

• Sigma Praetorian

[member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"] | [member="Apiculius the Cunning"] | [member="Ankharbis the Great"] | [member="Beleth"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Draven Asterisk"] | [member="Qamaria Nasha"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | ​

 

[Qamaria Nasha]

The Force had never been something that Qamaria had put much stock in, let alone chose to shackle herself to. That was not to say, however, that she was blind to it. She could always feel it, pressing upon her mind, whispering thoughts that were not her own. She could taste it upon her tongue, a taste as heavy as the blood she delighted in. And it always pushed, pushed her to do this and do that, always pushing. Never before had she cared for it, never before had she chosen to listen to it, especially as when it told her to not kill the blood would only taste twice as sweet. But, now, she could see, see a new path beginning to wind its way before her, beckoning her with a promise of a more fulfilling life, one with a greater potential for her to relish in the glorious rush of combat, if only she chose to step onto it.

The blood, the rush, all of it. She could nearly taste it already as grey eyes stared hungrily down at the desert enveloped planet that loomed within the windows of the cockpit of the stolen ship she sat within. When she inhaled, she could almost swear that she smell the ash and sweat and pain instead of the stale air that filled the vessel that had been her home for the past few weeks.

The lust for blood and battle was all that had consumed Qamaria's thoughts recently and this new potential path, gifted to her by the vary aspect of reality that she dismissed and had always tried to rebel against, would finally allow her to feast and slake her thirst in a glorious manner. She swore she could almost shiver in pleasure at the images running through her mind, especially considering the hunger for blood inherent within her Vampirika Bloodline had been growing as she starved herself in preparation for bathing her new life in sweet blood spilled by a feral rage.

A dark cloud had already began to press upon her mind as the battered ship, kindly 'gifted' by a smuggler, began to descend through the skies of the planet; the vibrations of the atmospheric decent doing nothing to rouse the three-hundred and fifty plus woman from her state of euphoric. Instead of inspiring thoughts of fear and flight within the woman, the dark aura of the gathering masses served only to do the opposite and cause ragged breaths to fall from parted, blood-red lips as a newly born feeling of living began to rush upon the Vampirika-Human Hybrid.

Vengeance and lust upon the fields of battle over a century prior had been the last time that potential fun and the pure and simply feeling of living had been present within Qamaria, but that spark had faded since. Yes, the blood soaked liberation had been freeing upon leaving her cave on Tattooine and running into that unfortunate band of slavers, but it and the blood that she had imbibed since had done nothing to reignite that spark. No, only this potential before her and the heavy set cloud of gathering darkness had served to even come close to inspire the same rush that the years on the battlefield had done so.

Blood had always called to her, but now? Now it's siren song was no long subdued, the crescendo of its chorus was rising once more and she was close to living once more.

The shade of the woman that was once known as the Blood Wraith felt her lips peel back into the first smirk in years, gleaming white fangs reflecting back at her in the windows as she revelled and the newly reheard song, ignoring the thump of the ship landing reverberating through her body. Pale, almost porcelain skin crinkled in sadist euphoria as the now unfamiliar expression pulled at tight and under-used muscles. Spindly, delicate fingers tipped with sharpened nails formed into deadly points through decades at scratching at the rock that formed her self-inflicted prison reach up in the reflection to brush stringy raven hair, highlighted with shocks of white, out of the way of fine, red paint covered skin while revealing gleaming grey eyes.

'It's time for some fun.'

The thought ran through Qamaria's mind with dark glee as she turned away from her reflection and headed towards the ramp of the ship as the hiss of the hydraulics that lowered it hissed out. A rush of dry, acrid, heated air brushed against her face, causing her nostrils to flare sharply as she pulled a cloak around her leather corset and trouser clad form, hiding the vibroblade at her hip in the same move. It would not do, after all, for her to meet her new 'friends' blistered and burnt from the harsh sunlight of the sand covered world that she was newly arrived at.

 

[Asha Mataya]

Asha had to hide a smile as [member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"] silenced the man who seemed to oppose her mother's plan to head down with them. Instead she nodded as Amelia looked over her shoulder, revealing her intent to go with her despite the hazards of daytime. To say she missed being able to be out in the open under the sun would have been an understatement, but considering the circumstances under which she had become a vampire it was a worthwhile sacrifice even when disregarding everything else. Once more the woman told herself to simply get used to how things were now. She was alive, and that was what mattered. Still, she wanted to see the surface of the planet for herself and it seemed she wasn't the only one adamant on her heading down too.

As the orders were given to the Sigma Praetorian Asha looked over to the two Knight-Errants who would be watching over her, giving them a modest smile and nod. She remained silent while Amelia continued, again having to keep herself from chuckling as she heard the Knight-Captain grumble. He didn't seem too happy with being tasked to accompany the one she now called mother and the situation was, in all honesty, quite amusing to the white-haired woman.

Asha looked over to the crates after she followed Amelia there, watching as she opened them. They would reveal the equipment necessary for them to survive and when she was instructed to don the bodyglove and armor she took out a set and appraised them for a moment. With a nod she went to putting them on. The simple wish that nothing would happen to her meant more to her than Amelia would have likely expected. After what happened between her and her biological mother, a bond that eventually severed due to the pressure put on it following her father's death, the fact there was someone who cared in that way was something she valued highly. She wasn't very confident in saying that out loud however, and instead simply gave Amelia an appreciative smile. "Alright, this shouldn't take very long."

[member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Apiculius the Cunning"] | [member="Ankharbis the Great"] | [member="Beleth"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Draven Asterisk"] | [member="Qamaria Nasha"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Aria Vale"]​

 

[grammaticus]

The call had drawn him to this planet, of that Corin was certain. He had been deep within the Shadow Academy, behind wards and protections created to contain some of the darkest powers in the known galaxy. And yet, whatever had called out to him, it had pierced through them all. Such power alone warranted his attention, but there was something about it, the voice, that felt...familiar. Whatever the case, Corin had immediately mustered a small expedition force and set out after it.

Three Kaleesh Warcruiser's advanced in tight formation towards the planet ahead, and their scanners were already picking up several other vessels in orbit. He didn't seem to be the only one to receive the call evidently. He left orders with the captain to bring the ships into high orbit over the planet, before departing the bridge. With him, he had brought six Kaleesh Shadow Guard as his personal escort. They wore freshly crafted pure black armor, covering every inch of skin with plate, and armed with energy pikes. They were the vanguard force of Kalee, the best of the best. Corin doubted they would do any good if he got into a fight with whoever had called him.

He entered the main hangar of the ship, boarding a waiting shuttle with his honor guard which quickly departed for the surface. He had the vessel land a short distance away from the origin of the call, and walked down the ramp followed by the Shadow Guard. They made quick progress across the desert landscape, the Kaleesh showing no sign of discomfort despite the warmth they must be feeling inside their armor. In short time, they had ascended the steps of the hall, and Corin came to be looking around the chamber, noting the faces and locations of everyone as the Shadow Guard took up positions outside the chamber.

"I have heard the call, and I have answered it. What is it you want." As he spoke, Corin slowly made his way along the length of the room, coming to one of the chairs about halfway along the table, pulling it out but not sitting just yet.

| Ankharbis the Great | Bestat | Beleth | Darth Mara | Asha Mataya-Syrush | Amelia Sorenn-Syrush | Velon Ielor | Apiculius the Cunning | Darth Abyss | Aria Vale | [member="Antherion"]

 

[Ankharbis the Great]

Ankharbis smiled widely as the large swathe of new arrivals entered the room, his servants ushering them quickly to their seats at the meeting table before his throne. He arose from his seat, casually walking down the steps of his large throne before moving to stand at the end of the table, his resplendence on show. "I bid you welcome, travellers. I hope the deserts of Ankhypt have not been too difficult for you.", he said with a polite nod of his head. "Alas, I can't tell you why we have come here either. I too felt the call. I merely thought it prudent to redecorate and get comfortable while I waited for any potential new arrivals. Allow me to introduce myself, however. I am Ankharbis, Pharaoh of this great world your feet stand upon." Ankharbis said, grinning.

"It is rare we allow outsiders upon our world, but times have changed as of late. Ankhyptian isolation must come to an end if we are to claim our birthright. I had my sources do their research on all of you as you entered our system. You are individuals of extraordinary power and influence, like I. Yet your efforts to gain power are divided and lacking of direction, which is why I wish to make a....proposal to you all. My planet possesses great wealth, sizeable armies and an ever growing slave trade, but I seek to expand further. Create a Covenant of power which might span across the stars and expand the influence of Ankhypt. The gods have summoned us all here for a reason, and I am not one to question fate. Tell me, does such an offer have interest to you all?", the Pharaoh said curiously.

[member="Corin Zanith"]
[member="Asha Mataya-Syrush"]
[member="Qamaria Nasha"]
[member="Amelia Sorenn-Syrush"]
[member="Apiculius the Cunning"]
[member="Aria Vale"]
[member="Darth Mara"]
[member="Beleth"]
[member="Darth Abyss"]
[member="Velon Ielor"]
[member="Antherion"]