Thick trailing smears of incense slither about the dimly lit stone altar. It hangs in the air a few feet off the metal-grid walkway, drifting upwards like vile clouds under the candlelit ceiling, a murky searing swamp bristling with vibrant will-o-wisps.
Livid shadows flicker in the gangway, but not from the faint glow of many pale dripping candlesticks, but of their own accord. They dance to a beat. A melodic breathing originating from nowhere and everywhere, deep and rushed. In, in, in and then out. A humming of such magnitude as if to shake not just the vessel, but the very fleet of the loyalist Imperials.
The temperature was unbearable, a wet, dripping heat. Every mortal breath a strain, and the musk in the air smelled like burnt, sour earth, acrid scorched spices, like the ominous winds that blow across the sands of Korriban.
And there, kneeling, hands perched in prayer, his iron-clad helm sunk in worship, sat Da'Razel.
Draped in a thick mantle over a fitted red tunic, with specks of gold-plated slates of armor visible across his shoulders and forearms. Bare feet. Bare, red, clawed feet, skin color akin to those crimson deserts of the Sith homeworld.
Suddenly, the Saint's bolstered visage yanked upward, the visor nothing but a monolithic, glowing vertical slit. It oozed a sinister glow. There was no iris, no pupil, but one could feel its gaze just the same, pulled in by the gravity of its burning seam all the same.
The creature rose, he had received orders. The only indication: small flashes of dim, differently colored lights on the comms device nestled into the midnight-black furs of his collar.
With machine-like precision, the giant swept into movement, the pooled cloak by his bladed soles pulled behind him in a manner that seared the illusion his stride was a hover, as if he floated above metal walkways.
His motion caused music, rattling chains, like coins clanging in a pouch, even the murmuring chime and bang of a bell bellowed into the darkness, a faint orchestra echoing wherever he set foot.
He was called to sermon, his flock was coming.
He had communed with death on Cademimu V, death made manifest by His will, death in the name of His greatness. For even death, one of the few constant laws of the universe, bent its knee to their Emperor. And there was so much death. Death by blaster, death by rockets, death by light saber, death by great sword, death by toxins, death by execution, death by force, so much death.
Turning one final corner, he stepped into a corridor much cooler than the previous. Sterile and sharp, bathed in a faint blue luminescence. The constant cadence of hammering military boots on metal rang through the air, mingling with the stench of those who fear and those who fought.
He had arrived at a gigantic deck, directly connected to its even lager hangar. Here, in the belly of the great vessel, live cargo was being shipped in from the surface, lives forever altered, touched by the rupture of their Great Lord.
These were the chosen.
As death reaped those who stayed behind, these were the ones who slipped its writhing grip. Some were strong, some important, others merely lucky. But to the acolyte, such distinctions meant nothing. What mattered was that they were here, now.
Troopers moved with mechanical discipline, unraveling tangled chains of logistics: transports arriving and departing through vast metal doors that yawned into the cargo hold. Ammunition. Reinforcements. Bodies and bullets alike, all in motion, feeding the unrelenting engine of death unfolding below.
Crates were cracked open. Others sealed shut.
People were sorted, shackled, grouped and registered.
Droids zipped past, executing orders of varying magnitude.
And amidst the stirring mass stood the tall, red-draped figure.
Seemingly without orders.
He merely swayed, head tilting from one direction to the next until at last he bellowed, his voice mechanically enhanced, distorted by machine echo.
Words so loud they drowned out the commands of a hundred men, and the hundreds more commanded.
"Welcome, my children!"
All motion ceased. Troopers, slavers, the enslaved, even the droids, halted their movement.
And Da'Razel repeated, this time in a lower, more gentle tone:
"Welcome, my children."
"Welcome to a new age, a new life. Welcome to His rule."
He breathed out, giving space to a dramatic pause.
Some of the more devout among the gathered staff in the vast, sterile space began to kneel. Others simply lifted their fists to their hearts in silent prayer.
"Repent your past lives, for you have been saved. Bless His will, and bless your saviors, for the gift that has been delivered unto thee today."
The red slit of his visor wandered from visage to visage, some concealed in full trooper gear, others wrapped in bloodied bandages, and still more covered in dust and grime, blurred tracks running down their faces where tears had carved their paths.
He drifted toward one of those tear-streaked features, his clawed gauntlet tenderly curling the outer edge of his fingers across the creature's cheek.
"You see only the destruction, my child. You see only what has been lost. You see only the fire we have brought."
"But you are free, child. Look, truly look, and I solemnly swear you will see rebirth. You have been re-birthed into this world"
He stepped back, spreading his arms as if to welcome the entire cargo hold into his embrace.
Now, he screamed, a tearing, ripping scream.
"What you have lost was not real! What we have taken was tainted! That was not life, you have not lived! It was illusion. It was miasma. It was the absence of balance"
"Look at our universe, look!"
His arms pointed toward the far distance of the hangar, through the slightly blurred hues of the gravitational field, out into the cold, waiting void beyond and his tone grew gentler once more.
"This is a universe ruled by power, by strength, by fire! Forget those who burn below, they were weak! They were traitors! They were dead long ago, the moment they abandoned His greatness."
"Think of Coruscant. Think of the Core Wars. Think of millennia of blood and battle. This is balance. We are balance. He is balance. What is coming is clandestine destiny. What is coming is the balancing of the scale."
"And you, my children, you can be part of this balancing."
"You have a choice now. We offer you that choice, a choice no one has offered you before."
"Gain strength. Gain power. Live. Deliver fire. Set yourselves free. And swear solemn and eternal worship to the Dark Lord. For it is He. He who opened your eyes to this truth. A truth you have always known, but a truth you have denied, until now."
He stalked the entrance, descending the main hall, deeper into the vessel.
"Welcome, my children."
The masses once again fell into motion.
Meliant
