A P E X
Confederate Space, Local Time: 0017
Decay.
Of the countless words which dance upon countless tongues, only one suited the desolation before the Devil's eyes. The bones of the earth - stone and metal - had been ripped from the surface and hewn into a place of worship. But the hands of man knew only how to destroy. In their efforts to fashion for themselves a Wonder, they ravaged the surrounding land. The greenery was shredded. The wildlife was scattered. And all that remained was desolation. And, once the prize of the ambitious lot had been raised, others of their ilk burned it all away. War - the final shape of Mankind - descended upon their Temple.
All that remained was Decay.
So for what purpose had the Devil come? He was no scavenger nor vulture by trade. He had no desire to go picking through the ashes of what was in the pursuit of an archaic trinket at this point in his life. Nor had he any sentimental value or reverance to be had for the blighted land. In truth, if not for this sole purpose, Darth Metus would not have set foot upon the charred remains of what was. But...a torch was yet clutched in his hand. A torch that burned with the ideals and ambitions of the Sith holding it. A torch which would light the way for his legacy in the Galaxy. Though death was surely not his greatest enemy, there would come a time when Darth Metus was no more.
And the torch would fall to one of his successors. Whom it was - whether the Exarch, the Minister, or the Brawler - would be up to them to decide. But each needed their opportunity to learn his vision while he yet lived. Thus, he had brought [member="Adron Malvern"] along for this journey. Together, they had landed upon the accursed planet and braved the ashen remains of what was. For the most part, the Devil was quiet - lost in thought as he so often was these days. Always looking to the future despite living in the present. As for his Apprentice, well, Darth Metus could only assume where his head was. Where his heart was.
Their journey came to an end before the base of the Temple steps. The Sith raised his arm, barring the former Imperial from progressing any further. "This...is how Empires die." The baritone of his voice rumbled, just loud enough for the Apprentice to hear. "It was not for lack of strength. It was not for lack of determination or ambition..." His hand rose, indicating the Oblivion around them. "The Sith here were ancient and mighty, but they were laid low because they could not find the correct...Balance."
He turned, placing his burning gaze upon the former Imperial. He studied his face for a moment, continuing. "The same could be said for the Alliance. For the former Mandalorian regimes. For every power of the last century that has crumbled...they have all lacked the Balance that made the ancient Republic last millennia. It is not the absence of corruption. Nor is it worship of one spectrum of the Force over the other. No...the Balance is...to have the everlasting adoration of the people, but also the strength to inspire them to throw their lives at any given threat. To give up everything, happily, to maintain what you have built."
"There is no Empire that can claim they have done this. No bastion of light either. But...I believe we are coming close. Closer than any nation in recent history. Our people are happy. And we are mighty."
He paused, folding his hands behind his back briefly. A roll of his shoulders passed before he continued. "But there will come a time when it will be up to, and Srina, an...to maintain what I have built. So you must be mighty, but also capable of inspiring the adoration of not just one, but all."
From the rear of his belt, the Sith gingerly coiled his fingers about the hilt of his lightsaber.
"As you can see...there are no people to inspire here...and so, I will push you to become even stronger. I will push you harder than my children. I will push you harder than even Srina."
"Try your best not to die."
In the bat of eye, crimson exploded forth from the hilt of his saber.
In one deft motion, Darth Metus brought his blade crashing down over the head of his Apprentice.
[member="Adron Malvern"]