Eternal Father

R E M N I C O R E
Shadows wreath the barren desiccated world, the shadows of distant star destroyers meandering through the upper orbit crisscross the wasted plains. Remnicore is a world like no other, forgotten and abandoned by the galaxy following the ancient wars between the Jedi and the Sith. Its valleys were littered with the discarded debris of a dozen battlefields, the sun-bleached skeletons of long-dead combatants locked forever in violence's embrace. Fortresses, once grand and mighty, were little more than wind-swept hollows with crumbling walls and broken towers.
It was a monument to the fragility of the Sith and the eternal cycle of their conflict with the Jedi.
Down in one of these gutted redoubts stood the Dark Lord of the Sith, his grim countenance masked in shadow as the hooded servants moved around him. In their hands were tools and pieces of technology, their calloused fingers working deftly to assemble the machinery that would finally give meaning to these silent ruins. Their eyes, glazed over with white film, were unblinkingly fixated on their chosen tasks, mouths sewn shut with red wire briefly contorting in exertion whenever they hauled a heavy piece of machinery into place.
"Your Darkness," breathed another hooded servant at the Dark Lord's side, this one gifted the privilege of speaking, "She has arrived."
He stood silent for a moment, his face unchanging as his head subtly tilted to one side as if straining to listen to some distant sound. Then he straightened and answered, "Bring her to me."
In the distant sky, the vessel of the Lady of Secrets could be seen breaking through the thick overcast. Two Sith starfighters escorted the ship into the lower atmosphere, breaking off as the Lady's transport came within sight of the Emperor's ruined sanctum. A landing spot had been created by leveling off part of the nearby cliff wall, seared down into a flat expanse large enough for the majority of shuttles and freighters employed by the Sith Empire to land and take off comfortably. It was ringed by red-robed guards, each one carrying an electro-pole in their gloved fists. They made no move to confront the Lady of Secrets as she departed, but she would undoubtedly feel their silent gaze on her back as she traveled into the fortress keep.
There she would find the Dark Lord of the Sith, his muscular form draped in elegant Sith finery with the emblem of his house, a crimson eye wreathed in black flames, emblazoned across a cloth tabard which clung tightly to his broad torso. He did not move to face her as she approached and instead looked out over the work being conducted within the fortress.
"Lady Raaf," intoned his flat gravely voice, "A pleasure."