The Living Pyre
The construction of the temple on Coruscant was well underway, slaves and covenant personnel had been working diligently and nearly nonstop since they had started. Though the Temple was constantly under work, the reconstruction would still take time. Varin made sure each and every person, droid, machine or creature was pulling its weight. Punishing those who slacked off, or executing any slaves that dared to stand up to security or even tried to escape. He strung up the corpses on crucifixes outlining the construction area as examples. Slow and painful deaths would soon follow them.
The prior troopers and personnel of the Galactic Empire were hard pressed to bury the bones of their once proud embodiments of Coruscant to build monuments to the Covenant. After witnessing the cruelty that Varin could inflict they seemed to have no problem either converting or staying to work. Thus was the first step of claiming an empire, break the people. Drive them to the dirt, humiliate their leaders and shatter their will.
Varin watched over it all. He never took a break, keeping his watchful eye over everyone.
Until he received an urge.
He looked over to his Nagai commander he had started to grow fond of, ordering him to keep watch. The commander saluted him and assumed command until Varin’s return.
He made his way through the shattered temple towards an elevator, the Skyhook to Mercy’s throneworld. Stepping in the craft shot towards the sky. He did not move, even when the feeling of his gut seemed to slam to the floor from the momentum, he simply crossed his arms, feeling the slight dent that he had repaired over his chestplate, from the last time he had words with Mercy. He had repaired it since, but the armor was still compromised, he would need a new set.
Smoke billowed from his back as the craft rocketed towards the throneworld, finally the doors opened, and like rushing waves of clouds, the smoke spewed from the opening as Varin stepped out. He didn’t need directions, he simply felt where to go. Mercy’s signature was tricky, unlike most Sith Lords who always kept an outward appearance of their signature, Mercy had none. But he could feel a choking void in the distance. Cold and bare. Lifeless.
He followed the feeling. Gravity seemed to push towards his shoulders as he ventured deeply before he met a set of doors. In front of the doors standing like sentinels were a few Graspborn, standing guard in opposition to any who would try to attack their masters.
Varin stepped past them as they let him inside, he had no intention of trying to attack a mountain again. Today at least. And Mercy had proven capable to shrug off deathly blows.
That was partly why he was here.
He stepped through to see the massive throne. Pieced together from the spoils of conquest, impressive and awe inspiring to the young man. Sitting upon that throne was the massive mountain of the dark side, Mercy.
He stopped a bit of distance away from the throne, arms clasped behind his back.
“I have some questions.”
He spoke directly to her, not realising if she was already busy with something or not, but to Varin, this was important. Something he needed to know, something that clawed in the back of his mind for some time now.
He waited patiently for her attention.
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