From ashes, we are reborn!

[Isamu Baelor]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3cDLnkYs30[/media]​

Coruscant burned. The Empire wounded. A band of traitors, supported by guns-for-hire, had struck at the Dark Lord of the Sith. At the heart of the Empire. In the chaos of battle, the Dark Lord fell. His life extinguished. Though they achieved their objective, the traitors victory was fleeting. The loyalists forces did not crumble, they did not bend the knee. Their guns did not tire, until the traitors had been obliterated.

Though the Dark Lord lay dead, the Empire did not fall to chaos. It did not crumble under the strain of treachery. While the Sith Order fractured, their ravenous greed and lust for power overwhelming all sense, the Military stood united. Their oaths not so easily forgotten. Grand General Isamu Baelor, the last remaining Hand of The Dark Lord, rallied the brave men and women of the One Sith, and enacted Operation Iron Fist.

Operation Iron Fist:
In the event of the death of The Dark Lord, the One Sith Military is tasked with:

• Protecting the citizens of the One Sith.
• Arresting the governing bodies of planets who would take this opportunity to secede.
• Executing the rebels and traitors who would seek to harm the Empire

The Military moved with efficiency, and the operation was executed across the Empire’s territory. The Army took their loyal citizens in, and shielded them. They were offered aid, shelter, and protection from the battles raging across the Empire. Many soldiers gave their lives in the defence of their people.

Many of the opportunistic Will’s were awoken at night, as One Sith soldiers barged down their doors, and dragged them kicking and screaming from their beds. Along with their co-conspirators, many would find themselves locked in the deepest, and darkest, dungeons of the One Sith. Never to be seen again.

A number of Sith saw the power vacuum as an opportunity, and grasped for it. Many faux-Dark Lords would rise, only to be cut down. The Military descended upon these planets, and offered the rebels no quarter. One Sith soldiers barged into the temples of the pretenders, and slaughtered all those that would not surrender.

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Deep in the belly of the Sith Temple on Coruscant, The War Room lay. Grand General Isamu Baelor had directed much of the operation from this room, but now sat in wait. He had summoned the former voices, as well as powerful members of the Order and Military alike. Though the Military had stopped the empire from fracturing, it would not last forever. The Sith Order needed to be brought back into the fold, and it could only be done with their help.

[member="Darth Vornskr] | [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"] | [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Darth Erebos"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

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Coruscant, Capital of the Sith Empire

The din of violence softened as the fighting whittled down to nothing more than isolated skirmishes as both sides, revolutionist and loyalist alike, wore themselves ragged fighting against one another in what could be considered more of a brawl than an actual battle. But whatever the revolutionists desired to achieve had been partially realized through the slaying of the Dark Lord, the esoteric Sith who through his own mystique and ambiguity held the Sith together with a common goal. But now with his violent passing there would be many who would seize upon this opportunity to usurp all that the Dark Lord had accomplished, all that he had taught forgotten in a wave of self-interest that shadowed all notions of camaraderie.

But not all were like that. Even now as the wrecks of star destroyers polluted Coruscant's orbit more and more vessels materialized out of the gloom, weapons hot and honing in on those vessels ID'd as treasonous. Screens of fighters were launched to corral any stragglers that attempted to flee the planet and take down any opposing fighter screens simultaneously. But from the belly of one Star Destroyers emerged a single Sicarius-class Stealth Yacht flanked on either side by two TIE/s "Sentinels" emblazoned with a golden trim on the wings. They angled themselves towards the planet's atmosphere and maneuvered to pierce through the thick cloud coverage that now blanketed the skies above the Imperial district. However; the Palace was not their intended destination, but rather the monolithic monstrosity of a temple that had been erected over the demolished Jedi temple following the reclamation of this world from the Jedi and their Republic taskmasters.

Smoke billowed from one of the temple's pyramidal faces from where a missile had slammed into the reinforced durasteel leaving behind a horrendous wound that belched smoke and flame at irregular intervals. No fire control crew had been able to tend to the blaze up until now thanks to the heavy fighting that had gone on in and around the temple. But like all over the planet the fighting was beginning to die down as more and more of the staunchly loyal Imperial military arrived to quell the uprising. The black outline of the shuttle banked towards an opening in the temple's southern face, and with graceful maneuverability it landed deftly on the hangar floor as a contingent of soldiers that had been stationed within the temple swarmed the hanger to confront this new arrival.

However; despite the identity of the sole passenger of the shuttle being revealed to them they refused to lower their weapons, a cautionary move due in part to the dubious loyalties of several Sith Lords in recent times. He could forgive them for that, for they were only doing their duty, but he knew that if he had to act against them he would have no trouble dispatching the entire squad. Still, this was not the time to cause more chaos than there already was, and he willfully surrendered his lightsabers to the leading officer of the group and was escorted into the War Room where Isamu Baelor was waiting for him. "I'm pleased to see that you survived, Baelor" commented Darth Vornskr, former Voice of the Dark Lord, "I wager it'd be near impossible to find a replacement that could match up to your capabilities."

 

[Shaddi]

He hadn't been there in the initial battle and had only arrived after the death of the Dark Lord, a moment that he felt as the mark he had been anointed with burned away from his flesh. It had been the catalyst that brought him down to Coruscant, fielding a private squad from his own ship which had left the system cloaked and out of sight. Following him had been four squads along with two of his large Tuk'ata. With vengeance in mind he descended upon a secondary and lesser sith academy that had been taken over by the rebels. In less than ten minutes he had emerged with most of his squad intact along with his Tuk'ata and a burning temple behind them as the loyalist one sith troopers arrived on the scene.

At first they were vary of Erebos but as he ordered his men to stand down, he could see visible relief emerge on their faces. "Who is in charge of the operation?" He asked the captain of the men that had arrived but to his surprise he was only told that he was requested at the dark temples war room of all places. Leaving two of his four squads to reinforce the loyalists as they went about their business he commandeered a drop ship and soon enough he was landing within the hangar bay. With the request to relinquish his lightsaber Erebos began to feel a little uneasy but he knew he could rip any opposition the troopers posed to shreds if he was forced to and relinquished his lightsaber. Leaning against the private that took the lightsaber he made sure the private felt the pressure of his power. "I want that back." He said before leaving the hangar towards the war room.

As he arrived in the war room, he saw [member="Isamu Baelor"] sitting in the war room and Erebos approached him. He didn't know who he was other than that he was a military man and he had seen him in one of the lightsaber classes he had attended on Glee Anselm. He began to wonder if the academy had been hit as hard as the capital but he put his mind to the moment. On either side of him the Tuk'ata looked around and sniffed the room before they sat down and took the postures of well trained guard dogs. Figuring Isamu would fill him in when the time came or others he might have invited arrived he moved to look over the large holographic table in the middle of the room where information began to stream in from all over the one sith territory. Placing one hand to hold against his chin while the other crossed over his chest as he absorbed everything, barely noticing [member="Darth Vornskr"] as he entered the room if he hadn't spoken up and Erebos gave him the same deferential bow of his head as he had given Isamu when he entered the room.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

[media]https://youtu.be/r0vm80tsenA[/media]​

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Outfit​

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War was waged across the surface of the Empire's capital, treasonous dogs seizing their chance at dominance in the empire in a vile bid to destroy the mysterious dark lord and take for themselves all he had built, throwing his legacy to the wind before his body even ran cold. Opportunists jumping at the vacuum of power and the chaos to take what they believed they deserved, thinking they could just slip away, they were wrong. The loyalists did not bend, they did not break when the dark lord died and nothing could stop the Imperial Military from obliterating what was left. Under Operation Iron Fist men were turned into monsters.

The battle descended to isolated skirmishes at this point as stubborn holdouts were surrounded and swiftly destroyed under the might of a wrathful Imperial Military. Darth Prazutis could tell as he walked through the streets with members of the Blackblade Guard surrounding him that the many soldiers who pulled men and women kicking and screaming from their homes, some were thrown into the backs of vehicles while others Prazutis noticed were planted face down, only to have their heads blasted into the permacrete sidewalk. These same soldiers as a precaution raised their weapons when he passed, waiting for the IFF Tags to read friendly, with a subtle hope that they didn't have to engage the infamous Jedi and Mandalorian butchers.

Darth Prazutis profited greatly from this Civil War as the loyalists plied him with money, gifts, for his aid and access to the information his growing network of spies, informants, and bought off officials had in store. There were several holdouts discovered purely by his own information, and each one of those came at great cost. It was something Prazutis learned from his master [member="Darth Vornskr"] who was on his way. If your allies are in a position of great need, and you have what they want the most use that to your advantage and take what you need, they need your information so they'll readily give anything. One of these gifts was Immolation, one of two Immortal-Class Star Dreadnaughts parked in orbit surrounded by a vanguard of ships from War Fleet Leviathan, an expansive fleet of ships all under the command of Darth Prazutis, the Hand of Darth Vornskr. Prazutis was his masters eyes and ears on the capital while he was on his expedition, he kept his master well informed on what has happened.

But now the Unholy Ghost of Coruscant glided into the Sith Temple alone, the Blackblade Guard forced to stop for security reasons. The perimeter guards almost wanted the Blackblades to go with him, as their eerie silence and almost complete absence of a human personality made some people very nervous to be around them. They were well trained, efficient killers after all. It did not take Prazutis long before he entered the War Room. "Master you've finally arrived, how was your Unknown Regions expedition?" Braxus asked him, before walking up to Isamu.

"Your men are doing their jobs well Grand General, rumors are circulating about Operation Iron Fist so wily that opportunists and traitors alike are turning themselves in out of fear."

 

[Darth Ophidia]

The weight of failure weighed on her. She had been right there in the temple, yet she had failed to protect their patron. Nothing filled her with wrath like the constant reminder of her own shortcoming. As a reaction to which, she had been quite zealous in the purification of her own Assassins. Even now, the Rattataki approached the Sith Temple with a severed head dangling from her fist. With her helmet resting in her elbow, she glided through the stone halls with determined steps. Her eyes peered out from under the black hood, unblinking and burning like embers against the ashen hue of her skin.

Being halted by the guards, she calmly handed over the paired sabres at her sides, the vibrodagger strapped to the back of her belt, and the little blaster concealed under her skirts, she even ordered her Tsaisibola to remain. It curled around her items defensively, launching its tongue and hissing at the guards if they came too close. She found it quite amusing that they were asked to hand over their weapons. If a Sith wished someone dead, then the lack of a weapon rarely stopped one. Still, she supposed the gesture would be appreciated. In a sense, it told them that there was no violent intent. Reluctantly, they allowed her to bring the head through.

Even though she had earlier remarked on how a Sith was equally dangerous without weapons, she felt it strange to be so unarmed. She had always kept her sabres close, when she slept, when she bathed, when she went for long walks on the beach in silent reflection. They were always there. Still, she had the Nagajj and a hefty beskar helmet. It was not much of a weapon, but it was a comfort to not be entirely stripped.

Upon entering the War Room, she remained in the doorway and let her eyes wander over the gathering. The large form of [member="Darth Vornskr"] was unmistakeable, seemingly in conversation with [member="Darth Prazutis"]. She did not intrude upon their exchange of words, but passed them quietly. She took note of [member="Darth Erebos"] and his pets, perhaps she could have kept her tsaisi with her after all? It would keep her weapons safe, that would be enough. Finally, she saw the person who had summoned her; [member="Isamu Baelor"].

With a few quick strides she approached, and with a swift movement of her left hand she chucked the severed head onto the desk before him. It rotated in the air and landed neck down on the table. Its eyes stared lifelessly up at him, jaw slack, and skin cold. She had found and slain him sometime in the last 24 standard hours, together with her old teacher, Darth Ferus.

"I present to you, formerly The Black Assassin, Darth Mechus; traitor to The One Sith and the Assassins, now a fraction of his former self."

She nodded and once more let her eyes wander the room, gauging for reactions, a hint of a smile pulling on the left corner of her mouth.

 

[cheshire_kitty]

The Dark Lord was dead, the battle should have been over but it was not. Filth, who had previously lived in fear of the Dark Lord crawled out of the crevices of Courscant to dirty its streets. Disgusted by the scum, Konrad and his men quickly and efficiently intervened and assisted in purging the filth who has the misfortune of crossing paths with the them. Clearing the streets, the men made their way to the Sith Temple. Any citizens- innocent bystanders of the war the group came across were sent aboard the High General’s personal stardestroyer for protection.

One by one, rebels – or rather, opportunists the High General and his men encountered were cut down, their bodies left to rot on the streets of the One Sith Capitol like trash for scavengers to feast upon. On arrival at the Sith Temple, Konrad had his men re-join Operation: Iron Fist before he removed his helm, held it under his arm and made his way into the War Room where he had been summoned by the Grand General, [member="Isamu Baelor"].

At the War Room's entrance, the High General was stopped by guards who had requested that he hand over his weapons before they would allow him entry. Silently, Konrad obliged as he handed over his weapons hesitating as he handed an ornate sword and dagger set that was gifted to him by his deceased love. “If I see so much as a scratch on these, I will personally see to the death of your families,” he warned the two. Feeling a bit odd without his weapons, Konrad entered the War Room where he recognised the figures of [member="Darth Vornskr"] who he had beirfly met once on Onderon during the destruction of a site of higher education and [member="Darth Erebos"] whom he had also met once before but where he could not quite recall. The other two, who he assumed was [member="Darth Prazutis"] and [member="Darth Ophidia"] were strangers to him with the former in conversation with Darth Vornskr. Lastly, sitting at the head of the War Room's table was Grand General Baelor.

“Operation: Iron Fist is going well, Grand General. The trash that had crawled out from the corners of Courscant are being dealt with and I have made my personal stardestroyer a place of refuge for the civilians for the time being.” Konrad reported to his superior in a calm tone unfazed by the events that had recently transpired. If the Dark Lord was pathetic enough to be murdered by mere scum, it was obvious that he was unworthy of his position as the head of the One Sith.

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

[member="Isamu Baelor"] [member="Darth Vornskr"] [member="Darth Erebos"] [member="Darth Prazutis"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"]

This past period had been turbulent for the One Sith. A coup had been staged and it had failed. The aftermath, however, left the hierarchy in shambles and in need for reform. The Dark Lord was dead. Though he might at one point have been the pillar that held them all together and elevated the One Sith above the rest, he had grown weak.

Once a staunch supporter of Him, Pyrrhus would not spend one moment mourning his loss. The Dark Lord was dead. In the end, the staunch loyalist Darth Pyrrhus had betrayed him. Of course, from his perspective the Dark Lord had already betrayed him first. By that logic, Pyrrhus’ actions did not qualify as treason.

Their trust had been broken, but Pyrrhus bore no love for the rebels who rose up against him. They too were weak. No systems had seceded. Some ‘Lords’ had abandoned the order to set up what they themselves called a new empire, but it had been no one of consequence. For now it remained an empire without land led by an emperor without power. As far as charades went, it was a poor one.

The civil war appeared won before it even begun, the only accomplishment of note from The Defeated being the murder of one man whose madness and incompetence was on the rise. The uprising had fizzled out like an assassination plot with no thought given to the follow-up often did. What remained of the insurrectionists were put down like cattle whose meat had soured in the eyes of their overlords. Life support was cut.

Upon realizing the great failure of the Dark Lord, and with his death following shortly after, a great many things were changing in the eyes of Darth Pyrrhus. It was the dawn of a new era. What being a Sith had meant yesterday was not the same as tomorrow. In many ways the Togruta’s philosophy on the One Sith had come under siege. What emerged after his internal battle remained to be seen, but he was determined to rise even more powerful than before. His evolution was in progress, and he would put no breaks on it.

Plans were made, scouts and envoys sent out. The Eye of Santii was firmly looking outwards, and it would capitalize on Operation Iron Fist. It was high time to take a more aggressive approach to politics. Those ruling figures within his sphere of influence who did not adhere to his vision with the same enthusiasm he preferred, and only spoke of support in the form of lip service were promptly painted as traitors. They became targets of the military’s reign of terror, and it was seen to that their replacements came in the form of more desirable candidates.

At last he could look upon the Sith Temple as he drew near to the meeting location. The structure, unlike its predecessor, had stood test test of time, rebellion, and petty insurrections. After a long and cold stare towards the soldier who asked him to hand over his weapons, the Lord of Ruin complied. The curved hilt etched with bone was deposited. He would recognize it. He would return for it. Reluctantly, he presented a second lightsaber, more plain in its design. Reluctant, because trust was not easy to come by these days. However, Darth Pyrrhus had won many battles without ever drawing his blade, and so saw no reason to cause a greater fuzz over it. And quite frankly, if they did not even have a metal detector of some sort then what the kark were they doing.

The Togruta bowed his head slightly before entering into the War Room. It was an act born not out of respect or even submission, but rather force of habit. He was a tall figure, made only to appear taller by the large montrals serving much like a wicked two-spiked crown. He had experienced the hard way how people did not make doors as large as he liked everywhere in the galaxy.

He was familiar with all of the faces in the room with him, with the notable exception of one. He had sadly not yet had the pleasure of working together with High General von Grimmelshausen. Grand General Baelor had come a long way since Pyrrhus had first been introduced to him in one of his group lessons on Glee Anselm, but the general had always been an impressive figure. Both Darth Ophidia and Darth Prazutis he had worked with in the past. Interactions with either always found a way of becoming interesting and he expected this to be no different. Of course, his former master and fellow Voice Darth Vornskr needed no introduction, nor he to him. Glancing across the room his gaze came upon a small group of Tuk’ata hounds. If they so much as snivelled too loudly he would snap their necks.

What a merry band of loyalists they were. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone in the War Room bore the same hatred for the Dark Lord that he did. At this point it was hardly relevant. He spoke no words of introduction. For now, he figured merely gracing them with his presence would suffice. He had no doubt that the time for words would come soon, as the reason for the crème of the empire being summoned to appear in the same place at the same time was revealed.

Oh, and there was a head on the table.