Private Consequences Long Overdue

[Shade of Decay]

[Sith Temple ruins, unknown planet, Unknown Regions]
​

Existing off of his ship was proving somewhat odd.

It wasn't that he was having trouble. He had all the necessary equipment to ensure his continued survival, alongside strength enough in the Dark Side to hold himself together. The cybernetic replacements he'd had to implant to make up for organs he hadn't managed to save were annoying, of course, but nothing he couldn't deal with. The frigid temperature of the planet he was one was also beneficial, as it helped slow the process of decay. There was nothing that was causing him undue difficulty.

It was just different, having survived onboard the Ebion for such a lengthy span of time, submerged in bacta nigh-constantly. Now, he was moving about an abandoned temple, one where the Dark Side of the Force was unusually strong, even compared to other Sith temples. It enabled him to act outside of the bacta tank more easily. Now he could conduct his studies in peace, and slowly re-acquire the equipment necessary to craft a new body. Barring the lack of such equipment, it even felt somewhat like his home on Arkania.

Not to mention that it was off all Imperial records, far enough from Sith space that he had little to fear about being found after what he'd done to Kascalion Giedfield. It was a fortuitous find, while he was running from the Sith Empire's retribution. Soon enough he could finish his body, discover the art to transfer himself into it, and return to the fold under an assumed identity. With time.

Time that, as the Sith Empire itself would have it, was likely running short.

Darth Ophidia Lark

 

[Lark]

Perched upon a small outcrop of rocks overlooking a dilapidated Sith Temple, Lark searched for his quarry.

The dark wings of his Svarrif haunted the cloudy sky, tracing every crevice for signs of the turncoat Sith. The irony of the hunt was not lost on him, the man who once brought Lark back into the Empire was now being singled out for assassination. You showed me such understanding that night, a second chance to amend my transgressions. A shame I will not show you that same mercy. The directives from the enigmatic Lord who delivered the mission were absolute. Tsisaar Taral had betrayed the Empire, and would face whatever punishment the Lords deemed necessary. Unfortunately for him, that penance took the form of an ambitious acolyte who cared naught for whatever past associations the two of them had.

You're the second teacher to have left me behind. But no matter how many times the galaxy forces me into solitude, I will fight as I always have. Without any empathy or remorse.

The authorization code granted to Lark contained coordinates to this temple that had been lost to the ages, which struck Lark as a bit strange. Traitor or not, Tsisaar was no fool, surely he'd know that he'd be tracked and cover all his bases. Did he slip up, or was he simply going mad? Whatever the case, Lark had his mission.

And the Svarrif had found their prey. Slight movement spotted in the crumbling ruins, which bred a stronger dark presence than Lark would've guessed. Knowing where he needed to go, Lark began his descent towards the temple. I thank you for saving me that night, Tsisaar. I had hoped that you might prove to be different than my mentors who came before, but I've become numb to betrayal. Your death will not weigh on my conscious any more than a slave or Jedi's would. It is a shame, we could've worked well together.

You'll die here.

Shade of Decay Darth Ophidia

 

[Shade of Decay]

As Tsisaar went about his tasks, exiting the main area of the temple for a brief moment, he noticed something else, beyond the oddity of existing planet-side once again.

A small shape, flying above.

"How strange," he muttered to himself, squinting at it. "This planet is supposed to be lifeless, but for the plants alone." He quickly withdrew, depositing a few items within his main study, before retrieving his lightsaber. It was obvious paranoia, but not unwarranted. Being on the run from the Sith meant that he had to take extra precautions with these sorts of things; if there was other life on a planet that was supposed to have plants and nothing more, that meant either that the undiscovered planet had been found, or he'd been followed himself.

Neither was a comforting thought.

Weapon in hand, the sorcerer left the temple, ascending first up the steps leading down towards its entrance and then up the hill that the main building had since become, long-worn stones standing all around it. It looked more akin to the sort of natural meditation space a Jedi might prefer; though, given the origins of the Sith Order itself, it didn't seem too surprising that such an ancient temple would hold similarities to the spaces of the Jedi, especially after the passing of years had long covered the temple with moss, dirt, and growth.

Using the apex of the temple mound as a vantage point, Tsisaar could oversee the surrounding space quite well; while it wasn't entirely the highest point in the landscape, the majority of the area around it was still flat or sunken, giving him a decent view. And with that view, he was able to notice a familiar figure starting to approach the temple from a ways off.

"Most strange," he muttered to himself, uneasily. It seemed the apprentice he'd set off on numerous missions and tasks for the Empire was returning to him.

Lark Darth Ophidia

 

[Lark]

You look tired, old friend.

As he ascended the stairs of the temple, Lark began to make out the silhouette of his old mentor amongst the thorny branches of a tree atop the ruins. From the moment he met Tsisaar, Lark had been able to tell the man relied on some unnatural means in order to keep his being at full potential. His condition had only deteriorated. Brief glimpses into the temple rewarded looks into Tsisaar's workshop, although Lark wasn't familiar enough with any of the technology to know for certain what it was his former master was creating. A new body? Some sort of weapon? A twisted alchemical monstrosity? One could never be certain, not when it came to Tsisaar.

Yes, Tsisaar appeared to be much more haggard than the last time the two spoke. But Lark knew better than to underestimate the man. Despite all of the replacements he'd performed, his new body was sure to have some sort of enhancement. An acolyte was going against his master, an uphill battle if there had ever been one. But some of the most prolific Sith were known for striking down their former masters. Perhaps Lark's tale would follow the same path. This was a necessary step for him to take, to feed the monster that festered within him.

Tsisaar was wary, as any enemy of the Sith should be. Lark knew he couldn't stroll up to the top of the hilltop and win in a contest of raw power, he'd have to pull of some tricks. And as it stood, he didn't trust Tsisaar for a moment. There would be no formalities before the encounter, no chance for either of them to walk away.

Chained to Lark's hip was a haunted tome, a Necronomicon of perverse origin. In the right circumstance it was a weapon of indescribable destruction, but at the moment it served as little more than a distraction. The book could summon Sithspawn at the cost of a blood sacrifice, which would be a non-factor in the fight. Not nearly enough blood was present for any reliable Sithspawn to join the fray. But it did emit an overwhelmingly sickening aura of darkness, which was sure to draw Tsisaar's attention. That was what Lark hoped for.

He unchained the Necronomicon, unfurling the maddening pages within. With luck Tsisaar would be focused on the tome and whatever he thought it would do, which would give Lark's Svariff that accompanied him the perfect opportunity to strike. From the heavens a dozen corvian beasts descended towards their prey. They'd target any vulnerable parts of Tsisaar, although any metal on the man couldn't be pierced by their talons. If all else failed they'd attempt to swarm the man long enough to rattle and blind him.

If its any consolation, you've taught me well. I've no regrets for what I'm about to do.

Shade of Decay Darth Ophidia

 

[Shade of Decay]

As Lark strode up towards the apex of the complex, Tsisaar's wide-ranging senses picked up on what the acolyte brought with him. A tome, sickeningly cold with the Dark Side, hanging at his former apprentice's hip. More threateningly, a flock of raven-like creatures, quickly descending to attack. Tsisaar's eyes narrowed, his gaze focusing back on Lark, cold and disdainful. The birds, so surely swooping in towards the unprotected Sith on top of the temple, suddenly scattered, confused; controlled as they were by the Dark Side, it wasn't too difficult a matter for Tsisaar to send them away for the moment, interposing his will between theirs and Lark's.

He would have no distractions in this meeting.

"I don't suppose you've come to join me?" he asked his ascending apprentice, struggling against a rotting larynx to make himself heard. "If so, you come with a strange greeting, Lark." His lightsaber dropped to his hand from the sleeve where he'd been concealing it, though he had yet to activate it. Should Lark attack, or make it clear that there would be no negotiating, he would have to use it; for the time being, diplomacy would hopefully prove more useful than combat.

"Put away that book of yours and we can talk."

Lark