Destroying His Legacy

[Cerusia Shamalain]

Byss
Royal Palace of Byss - "Moridin's Palace"
Throne Room

Serin Darkhounds prowled the shadows of the throne room, circling the centerpiece where the Dreadlady Sable, Queen of Byss, greatest Apprentice of Darth Moridin and inheritor of his knowledge, his power, and his complete legacy, sat deep in meditation. Things on Byss had been very quiet lately, and little had been seen or heard of concerning its Queen, but dark things were now in motion.

Draped in layers of black robes and armor, the Dreadlady's fingers slowly curled around the armrests of the throne. At her feet the Serin eased closer, dropping to lay at the foot of the massive throne where they wallowed in the wisps of Darkside furling around the woman like smoke. Moments later the door to the chamber opened to a chorus of snarls and demonic rumbling. A man dressed in black walked in, his movements swift but his posture stiff.

Purposeful, dedicated strides carried him forward, the man maintaining his gaze not quite meeting her eyes but very directly avoiding those of the Serin.

"Dreadlady, we've found it," his words were rushed, excited as he moved to kneel a few yards before the throne, "we've located the second piece of the Harrower."

Pale eyes beneath a veil of black flickered open, seeping purpose and drive, and when the Queen of Byss spoke her voice was echoed and overcome by the ethereal billions trapped inside her.

"Ready the salvage teams at once."

"It will be done," quick enough, even, to miss the venom-slathered fangs of the Serin snapping at his heels as he left the chamber.

The Dreadlady slowly turned her gaze to her gloved hands and lifted the left to slowly pull the material from the right, revealing flesh and fingers completely taken by the black corruption of the Darkside. Without a word the woman pulled a dagger from her thigh and placed the tip into the palm of her exposed hand, drawing forth a thick, viscous liquid that pooled in her heartline before dribbling over the side. Energies rising around her, she watched as shadows began to slither forward and around her fingers before seeping into the wound. The Dreadlady clenched the hand shut.

Lord Dissero, her demonic voice echoed profoundly along the Force far out beyond the realm of Byss, seeking the man who had received her mark, to Byss.

 

[Sven Talith]

[member="Silva Talith"]

Sven wandered into the throne room only a few seconds after the Harrower was mentioned. The ship didn't really interest him in the least, artifacts form his father rarely did. To Sable it had become somewhat of an obsession, hunting down and destroying whatever the Dreadlord had left behind, but to Sven, it was nothing. Perhaps he should have been more nostalgic for the past, but the young King didn't tend to long behind him all that often.

It was hardly ever pleasant to do so.

“I wonder where it is.” Sven mused out loud as he watched his wife mutilate herself with a disturbing amount of casualness. It wasn't exactly new for him to see these things, and over the years he had gotten used to pretty much everything that Sable had to offer.

It helped that the force couldn't touch him. Not her own unique brand nor anyone elses. It took away the fear that others felt, the horror that they trembled with when they saw the Dreadlady perform her magics. His eyes drifted over towards her hand, and slowly he approached her. No, there was no fear in him, none at all.

“I doubt that this one will be as easy to get to as the first.” They hadn't yet recovered the first, but the information they had told them it was merely a floating hulk in the dark of space, scattered among the wrecks of what had once been the Vagrant Fleet. “I can't imagine both of them are in similar circumstances.”

From what he understood the two pieces of the ship had been rather violently separated, neither by Moridins designs or choice. Of course he could just ask the servant where exactly the piece was located, but Sven did not even acknowledge him. In his head he already knew that retrieving either piece wouldn't actually be easy, but his gut told him the second would be more difficult.

He was rarely wrong.

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

The echoes of her power slowly filtered away, the Dreadlady re-sheathed the blade. Her hand flexed in the air, tendrils of the Darkside slowly sewing the wound back together, before her sharp hissing from the darkhounds heralded the arrival of her husband; their claws scraping across the stone floor as they dipped away from his path.

"They are not," she answered while slowly rising from her throne, "but that is not the most difficult part." Finding them, indeed, had been the biggest challenge in this particular project. Now, however, their work was done and soon someone else would be taking on the heavy lifting. Pulling her armored glove back on, Sable stepped down from the throne to make her way towards the doors, feeling Sven at her side as he usually could be found.

"Dissero will preform the salvage," Sven knew that Sable was lament to leave the planet, not while the One Sith maintained their watch over it. Certainly she was not the most trusted agent within their realm, but the Dreadlady had not given them any reason to dismiss her from her rightful place. Instead she had seen to the growth of her fleet, the empowering of their defenses. Byss was and would remain one of the greatest of fortress worlds under her watch. The Sith could have her firepower, they could place their agents on her home, but they would not take what was rightfully hers to oversee and, ultimately, to destroy.

No one would take that right from her.

"And he will do it willingly. I know what it is he seeks and I can give it to him."

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Sven Talith]

[member="Silva Talith"]

“Well, you do know best.” Sven said off handed as he observed his wife.

He knew that she didn't want to leave Byss. This world was technically under the control of the One Sith. Their armies and fleets had come some time ago, before the taking of Coruscant. It would have been foolish not to accommodate them. Byss was strong, one of the strongest and most well fortified worlds in the entire galaxy, but even it could not hold out for a prolonged siege.

They would have made the One Sith pay in the end, but it would have been just that, an end.

Sven had known this, so he had signed a treaty of sorts. It guaranteed minimum interference from the One Sith on Byss, while giving them near complete autonomy. The only price they had to pay was a tithe of men and Arms as well as Svens personal service for whatever the Sith might need. A man trained in the way he was, with his abilities, was rare to come by, and thus the One Sith had deemed it necessary. He assumed they thought Byss would never be an issue anyway, given its nature for the past five hundred or so years.

The Dreadlord had rarely aided the Jedi after all.

“I will go as well.” Sven said suddenly. “You hardly need me here and it’ll be nice to get out of Sith space for a bit.”

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

She exited the throne hall in a slow but direct gait, making way for the Communications Hall of the palace, giving no pause in her stride but offering a sidelong glance to Sven at his words, "Very well. You can keep an eye on the Archivist."

Not that she expected any trouble out of the man, but it would be prudent to make sure nothing was overlooked. This was a ... delicate situation and she was not want to let anything slip from their grasp.

"Dreadlady," a man came running up, greeting them en-route to the Comm Hall, "we've just received word from Lord Dissero. He's on his way from Annaj. ETA two days from now."

"Start preparing the excavation teams and ready the salvage ships."

"As you wish," and with a short bow he was gone, running ahead of them back to his station.

"I will keep One Sith interest off this venture," Sable continued to her husband as they walked, "records will show we are salvaging for materials."

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Sven Talith]

[member="Silva Talith"]

He nodded.

“They will begin to get suspicious eventually, dearest.” He said commenting about he relentless crusade against Moridins former holdings as they arrived at the communications hall. “I doubt very much that they cared for his ways, but power is not something that any of them would pass up.”

The Ship contained a piece of his fathers power, a sliver of Strength that Moridin had enthralled into the vessel to allow it to run without crew or true power core. It was remarkable really, what the Force could do if wielded by a powerful being.

His eyes flashed from the communication panel to his wife for a second.

Could she do that now?

Yes, she probably could. Still eh felt no unease about her, no fear, only love. A smile tugged at his lips, and then his gaze returned to the panel. “Not to point out the obvious, but should they realize what you are doing. They will try to interfere.”

Sable would already know what he meant, but it was prudent to be a reminder. The One Sith were not their allies, they, like everyone else, were just another set of enemies.

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

Sable said nothing in reply to her husband as they arrived at the Communications hall: a veritable hive of technology and bodies dressed in black uniforms. At the very center a holographic table displayed the capital city of Byss surrounding the palace.

The Dreadlady came a stop at the side, critical gaze sweeping across the display. They would need to make strategic movements to keep from catching One Sith attention. Send out the salvage teams in small groups, mixed in with freight and trade shipments. Byss was busy planet, after all, and their own expansion had been on the rise since the inception of the One Sith over their system. Fortifying the planet brought in a vast array of shipments from all over the galaxy - enough that a few scant teams here and there over the next two days would hardly draw notice, especially considering their destination. The parts of Moridin's ghost ship were hardly public knowledge, she had seen to that.

No, it was not likely they would notice at all. Not until the time came to enact the next step, anyways.

"That is why we must not waste time," her eyes flickered across to her husband, "and provide distraction. I intend to do just that at the upcoming Masquerade on Hapes."

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Sven Talith]

[member="Silva Talith"]

Sven looked at her, his eyesbrows raising slightly.

“Back to the Consortium?” He said with a smirk. “Will I be going this time if I return in time or must I tend the flock?”

He trusted her to make the correct decisions regarding her plan. He hardly needed to interfere or suggest an alteration. Sven had always been easy in that regard, the one time he had made his own move it had turned out to be a colossal failure, though even then, Sable had supported him.

It was easy enough for him to do the same now.

Sven hardly cared about his fathers legacy. The man in this galaxy hadn't ever cared much for Sven, and his true father hadn't exactly cared for him either. The only good thing the man had ever done for him was leading him to Sable, and that had been purely by accident. He smiled slightly, then looked to his wife.

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

"I do not have intentions of attending in person," Sable replied simply, as though it were a rather obvious fact. Though the depth of Sable's grasp on emotions was hardly knee-deep in most respects, if there was something she hated more than the false-Demon of this universe, it was the planet he had tasked her to live upon.

Hapes was where Sable had lost herself to the Traveler's Locket and where she discovered her first taste of deep disastisfaction with Him and his people.

Few things would make the Dreadlady happier than to see the entirety of Hapes burn to the ground. For now, pandemonium would suffice.

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Sven Talith]

[member="Silva Talith"]

“I see.” Sven said with a slight smirk.

So things were getting far more nefarious than he had assumed.

He left it at that though. Sable would have told him more if she needed help, and if she didn't, then he didn't need to know. It was really that simple, and to Sven it was easy. Another man might have been curious or feel the need to interject his own thoughts into her plot, but Sven was more than content to leave it at what it was.

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

TWO DAYS LATER

Prudent planning paid off - all ten salvage teams had cleared detachment from Byss system under the cover of freighter traffic. Now en-route to their respective relic sites, they scrambled through the galaxy like a flock of birds so as to avoid suspicion from any over-watching eyes of the darkside regime. It would take time to transport the Archivist and the King to each location and timing was crucial. The teams needed to be set to their tasks, retrieving hull and space flotsam from the attack against the Vagrant Fleet. Differentiating between basic ship and carrier to their target would be easy enough, especially once Dissero was on scene.

Sable checked in on progress between legs of her own personal venture against the far-away Queen Mother. From the greatest silver-smith on Byss she commissioned a beautiful ring. From local gemstone artisans she sent out summons for the purest black mustafarian diamond to be cut, tumbled, polished, and inserted into the silver ring. This, of course, would all take time, but plans in motion were a greater guarantee for unhindered successes elsewhere.

"Dreadlady," an attending maid stepped into the royal private chambers, eyes duitifully cast away from the naked figure of Sable lounging on the bed, "Lord Dissero is inbound. He will arrive within the next twenty minutes."

Back to the maid, Sable turned her head just enough to glance back over her shoulder, Sven's hand snaked over her bare midsection, fingers tracing the lines of corrupted black scarring along her back, "Hold him at the hangar," she responded, demonic undertones lowered to a gentle rumble under the influence of Sven's calming presence, "we will meet him there."

"As you wish, Dreadlady," the Maid departed with a notable hitch of terror to her stride.

Sable turned to look back down at Sven, the early hour of the morning completely lost upon her. Not knowing just how long the project would take, they'd made up for upcoming lost time in the evening hours. Green eyes surrounded by black veins drifting across his face, "I will send a few hounds with you in case the Archivist should forget his loyalties."

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Sven Talith]

[member="Silva Talith"]

He nodded, erecting himself slowly upon the bed.

Sven adjusted himself on the edge of the bed, moving so he was nearly even with his wife, then slowly he reached down and landed his hand on his wifes bottom, using it to pull her against him. “Afraid I'm getting soft in my old age?”

They had never really discussed it, but both of them knew that Sven would never live as long as her, not only because of the longevity provided by the force, but also because he was a Clone. He aged at twice the rate of a normal man, and eventually he would simply degrade. Eventually he would get to a point where his body simply could not keep up with the skills he had attained. He wasn't there yet, but it was an eventuality. It was a silent nagging really, but one he never really bothered to think about. The Dark Hounds would be an excellent tool if Dissero were to try something though, even for him

“I doubt he will give much trouble. He didn't strike me of the sort to make foolish mistakes.” He was still grateful to Dissero for saving Sable, or for helping in the task. He would kill the man without a wink of hesitation, but that didn't mean he wasn't grateful for his aid in the return to his wife.

Sven didn't feel the need to say that crossing them would be foolish.

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

"You are not made of stone," the Dreadlady replied flatly, eyes drifting along his naked form, studying what scars were visible from her position. Eventualities were not something Sable thought of, but the woman was aware of the nature of his approaching expiration. Of course she, too, would not live forever. The Force had granted her an unnatural ability to be long-lived, like it had countless others, but unlike them she had not intentions of doing so. Not while her Demon and husband lived no more, what more could there possibly be for her?

Sable's entire existence was unnatural, and no one could quite say just what happened to those born of the Force when they finally faded. Perhaps she would turn back into the sands and winds and blood of Korriban, all the things from which her body had been formed. What happened to Sven when he died was completely different.

Pressing the pale, smooth skin of her bald scalp against his side, she closed her eyes. No dread for the coming years, only the contentment of the moment existed.

"He is too eager for power and knowledge to make mistakes - it is not that which concerns me, it is the power he already has and what he will siphon from those ships."

"The Dark Hounds will be able to shield you from it."

[member="Sven Talith"]

 

[Sven Talith]

[member="Silva Talith"]

His hand ran up the length of her spine and placed itself on her middle back, pressing her into him in a tight embrace against him. He kissed her neck, then smiled.

“Then I will take them.” He was not overly fond of the hounds. They listened to him and protected him as surely as they did his Wife and had his father, but there was something entirely off about the creatures that Sven found unpleasant.

It mattered not though, the creatures would accompany him and shield him from whatever process Dissero was to carry out, his absence in the force would take care of the rest. Though if the ship was torn apart in the middle of space, and his suit along with it, it was very unlikely that he would survive. Again, it hardly concerned him however.

“Now.” Sven said slyly. “How long did he say we had?”

With one quick sweep Sven picked Sable off her feet, and tossed her onto the bed behind him.