Darth Vazela
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
| @[member="Ashin Varanin"] | @[member="Lucien Cordel"] | @Lords of the Fringe |
Cool, compressed air kept the observational deck of the Obscurity a relaxed, comfortable area for one to inhabit. The Attrition-class Star Destroyer itself was gliding through the dark, black cosmos that was space within the realms of hyperspace. It had been done this on alternate, random jumps for almost three months now, as only two life forms were left within it's innards, with one planing a random, sporadic course from the Dromund Kaas system to the realms of the Unknown Regions.
It was time for a change.
Bodies littered the floor of the vessel, in a state of decomposition. Closer inspection would reveal that all of them had been slain by a Lightsaber blade. The individual responsible for this atrocity, this massacre was state upon a darkened, unnatural throne in which it's architecture revealed a deformed, erratic composition, like it had just sprung up from the durasteel flooring all by itself. It was the same man who was responsible for the murders who was the creator of the throne and consequentially, he was the architect of the Obscurity itself. Purple luminescence of hyperspace dissipated as a window formed in the Firrerre system. When the hyperspace window dissipated, the unique, one of a kind Star Destroyer came to a stop. It was not within orbit of the planet, for such gravitational forces would tear the Obscurity apart as it revealed itself from hyperspace, but not on the outskirts of the system either. It was in between and noticeable, for all to see. An irony of sorts, considering the purpose for which the ship was created and the definition of it's name.
Vilox Pazela rose to his feet and approached the transparisteel screen, hands clasped within his sleeves. Once known as the elusive Sith Lord Darth Vazela, a change had occurred within the mind of this man upon the fall of Tyrin Ardik, all of those months ago when the second only Dark Lord of the Sith, next to Darth Ruin, had fallen to a rogue, enigmatic, destructive Sith Master by the name of Mikhail Shorn. The man who's yellow, predatory eyes took Firrerre into his view thought of the power of the Soulsaber and was confident that, without the artifact within Shorn's possession, he might not have been here. Perhaps he would still be a Sith Lord in the Sith Empire and Tyrin Ardik might still be the Emperor. Or perhaps he would have been successful with the Suppress Thought and would have bear witness to the fall of the Empire's most powerful individuals.
Such things would be left to regrets.
Averting his gaze away from the transparisteel screen to the old man stood in the corner, Vilox Pazela said, "It's time. Begin broadcast."
Cool, compressed air kept the observational deck of the Obscurity a relaxed, comfortable area for one to inhabit. The Attrition-class Star Destroyer itself was gliding through the dark, black cosmos that was space within the realms of hyperspace. It had been done this on alternate, random jumps for almost three months now, as only two life forms were left within it's innards, with one planing a random, sporadic course from the Dromund Kaas system to the realms of the Unknown Regions.
It was time for a change.
Bodies littered the floor of the vessel, in a state of decomposition. Closer inspection would reveal that all of them had been slain by a Lightsaber blade. The individual responsible for this atrocity, this massacre was state upon a darkened, unnatural throne in which it's architecture revealed a deformed, erratic composition, like it had just sprung up from the durasteel flooring all by itself. It was the same man who was responsible for the murders who was the creator of the throne and consequentially, he was the architect of the Obscurity itself. Purple luminescence of hyperspace dissipated as a window formed in the Firrerre system. When the hyperspace window dissipated, the unique, one of a kind Star Destroyer came to a stop. It was not within orbit of the planet, for such gravitational forces would tear the Obscurity apart as it revealed itself from hyperspace, but not on the outskirts of the system either. It was in between and noticeable, for all to see. An irony of sorts, considering the purpose for which the ship was created and the definition of it's name.
Vilox Pazela rose to his feet and approached the transparisteel screen, hands clasped within his sleeves. Once known as the elusive Sith Lord Darth Vazela, a change had occurred within the mind of this man upon the fall of Tyrin Ardik, all of those months ago when the second only Dark Lord of the Sith, next to Darth Ruin, had fallen to a rogue, enigmatic, destructive Sith Master by the name of Mikhail Shorn. The man who's yellow, predatory eyes took Firrerre into his view thought of the power of the Soulsaber and was confident that, without the artifact within Shorn's possession, he might not have been here. Perhaps he would still be a Sith Lord in the Sith Empire and Tyrin Ardik might still be the Emperor. Or perhaps he would have been successful with the Suppress Thought and would have bear witness to the fall of the Empire's most powerful individuals.
Such things would be left to regrets.
Averting his gaze away from the transparisteel screen to the old man stood in the corner, Vilox Pazela said, "It's time. Begin broadcast."