EXOCRON
I am the fire, burning passion
I am the storm, unchecked rage
I am the shadow, devoid of light
I am Sith, free of chains
So mighty had they grown that they had been willing to wrap themselves in the chains of complacency, unchanging as the galaxy moved on. The Sith Empire was no more, a relic of an age passed, and with its fading came a wave of panic over those that remained and the preparations for those Sith that lingered on Exegol while those that had been unwilling to adapt floundered in the Stygian caldera. With the Sith Eternal falling apart at its seams, and the Warlords of the Sith consumed by the Maw, it appeared that a tide was rising to wash away the dark side even as the Brotherhood raced towards the Alliance and New Imperial shores. It was romantic thinking, to believe that the villains disappeared when Dromund Kaas collapsed, or that any left had simply flocked to the banner of the New Sith, but reality was hardly so simple. Monolithic though they seemed to be, they that called themselves Sith tended to be quite the varied few - and few they were, their numbers always so low as a consequence of their lifestyles.
Here, on Exocron, even, the darkness had coalesced again. A clandestine gathering, a band with their music on the wind, convened to seek out control in a galaxy that sought to reject them at every turn. Public power, the threat of an Empire, was terrifying at its beginning, but they had witnessed how defiant to that order the galaxy could be and how regressive its bureaucracy had been. The Brotherhood of the Maw and its New Sith, too, would face the same conclusion at the hands of an enemy of their own creation - so were the failings of order, of Sith that kept themselves beholden to something purportedly greater than themselves. None that gathered here swore any allegiance to an order, and certainly not to any leader, but all in attendance desired a similar vision of the galaxy - a galaxy where its leadership operated as Sith would. That was what had led the Shi'ido to luring the others here, to distant shores far removed from the reaches of the Jedi or their allies, while the rest of the galaxy kept their eyes on the spectacle that was the Maw.
The building was unassuming and hardly secluded, the city streets and the busy lanes of traffic in the sky above just beyond the door that led inside. It was as it had been in the final days of the Republic all the same, its occupants and their plans shrouded from the searching eyes of Jedi Shadows by the concealing hand of the dark side. The room was dimly lit but it was not dark enough not to make out others faces, its numbers small but the space not empty, and though the probing pull of the dark side had only drawn in those few that found themselves here, now, the Shi'ido was undeterred. How those that arrived had found this place, or learned of the others that arrived with and before them, was a question that seemed to vary depending on who was asked - but the shapeshifter only cared that it had not turned into an open secret.
She was poised to speak, but not all had yet arrived; soon they would, though, and the band would form.
