Private Dreams and Nightmares

[Darth Nefaron]

REFERENCE TAGS: Lirka Ka Helix Darth Strosius Revna Marr
DIRECT TAGS: Eurydice Veradun Sharr

Darth Nefaron had been defeated.

Not forced to retreat. No scheme foiled.

An enemy had come into his home and wounded him.

He would not have this repeated.
​

Anaot had long been forgotten by the Empire, a backwater that hardly warranted special attention from the ever-vigilant eyes of Jutrand. While he'd avoided scrutiny from the Dark Council, his actions had not gone unnoticed by the witch of Korriban and by extension, her false King. She had come to Anaot with a pathetic gang of raiders and sought his head for the humiliation of Tsis'Kaar and the denial of Darth Strosius. It seemed Nefaron drew the short straw, as he appeared to be the only one to suffer an attack from the forces of Korriban, though this was to be expected now that Lirka Ka sat on the Dark Council and Warlord Helix appeared to be ever on the move.

This had been personal. Nefaron would return the insult in kind. ​

But Nefaron had been damaged, that much he would concede. His body had heavily degraded, requiring extensive repairs and the acquisition and shaping of new flesh and bone, a painful and gruesome process that staved off death. Yet it was only hours before the new limbs and tissue suffered the effects of the dark side, leaving them pale and degraded as those before. Nefaron's fortress also suffered; the surface complex had sustained heavy damage, and the great citadel barely stood, but worse was the death of slave stock and the utter ruin that was the construction yard, which would significantly hamper the construction of new vessels and war materials.

But Nefaron's cruelty remained. All could be rebuilt, but the lash would sting yet more upon the backs of those damned to Anoat.

Deep within the bowels of Anoat, the Corpse Lord appeared weaker than ever, clinging to a cane and strutting with a noticeable limp as his body adjusted to its newly acquired limbs. Around him were many tanks, sealed from the pale light and secure with thick plating to prevent their contents from being damaged. It was here that he had summoned his wayward Apprentices after long weeks of absence, especially for poor Eurydice, who had suffered a grievous wound while away from Anoat.

Good. It would serve as a reminder; the pain would drive her deeper into the arms of the Dark Side.

The Corpse Lord had, by holo, contacted the other members of the triumvirate that was the Dzara and informed them of his survival, requesting only fresh material and a new ground defense array from Helix, he would meet with them in person only when he was healed and he had fresh plans, but not now, not when his pride had been so wounded. He could not bare Ka's prodding and jabs at a time like this.

"Apprentices."

There was little fanfare in Nefaron's words, nor did he turn to face them immediately upon their arrival. Instead he continued to scan a data pad, monitoring his newest creations to ensure they had survived the assault on the fortress.

"Anoat is secure again. The fleet in orbit and the newly installed cannons will ensure invaders do not reach the surface again."

It was then that Nefaron turned to them, his eyes hidden beneath his cloak.

"But we can never again regain our previous anonymity. Korriban is aware of us and our plots; we shall find no allies there in the coming days. As much as I wish to burn that pathetic ball of dust and stone, yet such an action would be hasty and ill-advised. For now, we must rely on our agents' infiltration of the Holy Worlds, though precious little reaches us regardless."

Nefaron made his way to the pair; he might have called them his children if he truly had any affection for them, but alas they were little more than tools, tools that he would employ in the coming months.

"I must accelerate my plans. We require war, a war that will leave billions dead on both sides. The High Republic must be drawn into a quagmire, as must the Sith."

The Corpse Lord glanced between the pair, both having grown and changed from the days of their arrival on Anoat.

"You two will play key parts in my plan. You must prepare to be viscous, perhaps more than ever before."

 

[Eurydice]

Once more, Eurydice had been drawn into the terrible fold of Anoat.

Her time with the Covenant, primarily stationed on Coruscant, had been dream-like in comparison. Even having been mistaken for a slave, even after being attacked by the Jedi on Tython, it was still better than being caught in Nefaron’s snare.

But it had been a lie. The noose was always there. Now, it had tightened around her neck once more.

Eurydice tried not to look at the Sangnir beside her. At the same time, she tried to not look too closely at Nefaron’s shattered body. He’d always been a twisted fiend, but now he was made of cobbled parts. The rot had already begun to set in, and though he hobbled with a cane, the Corpse Lord’s burning anger and sharp mind were as intact as ever.

Eurydice bowed her head before him. The wound at her abdomen had healed, but her connection to the Dark had been slower to recover. Her missing arm was easy to hide among long sleeves and the billowing folds of her cloak.

Her Master’s words, as always, left a lump in her throat. Eurydice swallowed thickly. Even the dullest among them would know that war was coming, but what was the purpose in accelerating it?

“Master,” she spoke evenly, voice soft and controlled with no small amount of effort. “What would you have us do?”

Eurydice didn’t stutter. Not yet. She was still frightened, but she was learning to mask that from her voice - if only a little.

If only for the moment.

Darth Nefaron Veradun Sharr