It's A Mess...

[Placeholder 04]

The Jedi ploy had failed.

He'd grown far too sure of his abilities. After the systematic destruction of the One Sith, Mephirium had thought himself to be untouchable. Through his willpower alone, the stage for the destruction of his rivals had been set. The Dark Lord's death had signaled the end of the One Sith and all their followers held dear, and the victory had gone to the Galactic Alliance.

Unknowing pawns, the lot of them. He had helped to bring them to their zenith, and soon, he expected, they would grow complacent. With his rivals dead and his enemies preoccupied with statebuilding, there was nothing to stand in his way.

To claim the seat for himself atop a crumbling empire would have been foolhardy. The One Sith had been a corrupt, rotting creature. The values its leaders instilled in the people were simply wrong, and one could not correct incorrect ethics and beliefs by sitting in a vacant throne.

No, their complete and total destruction had been necessary. Some of their leaders remained, but they were utterly irrelevant in the currents of the great ocean. Of his rivals that yet remained, Mephirium saw no equals: only cowards and old fools. That did not, however, mean Mephirium could discount them. He had attempted to do away with them using the remnants of the Jedi Order, whilst rotting the order from within at the same time. The latter had succeeded, the former failed.

Even still, the string of successes could not be discounted. For all that Mephirium claimed to be, for all his followers said of him, he was no fool. The iron was hot, and he would strike before an upstart tried to do the same.

The Chirikyât moved at a sluggish pace up the temple steps. It was an old, decrepit place. The skies were dark and full of angry gray cloud; the air sharp with the charge of a coming storm. The temple itself was a great ziggurat of obsidian and basalt, with two great statues of forgotten lords at its arched entrance. The steps were cracked and ruined, but held Mephirium's weight all the same.

A thin smile broke his pale visage as he reached the steps zenith. With a quiet sigh, he drew back his cowl, a face of patrician features with bright blue eyes, and short black hair. The smile grew slightly as his cybernetic hand fell toward the cylinder at his belt.

"Hello old ones. Can you hear me as I hear you?"

[member="Alecandria"], [member="Darth Praetorias"]

 

[Alecandria]

She still did not know precisely what had compelled her to walk the path she had chosen. What she did know is that there was no turning back. Like a leaf that had fallen into the raging river below, she was along for the ride with no control over where she would come to lodge. The course of her path had guided her from one location to the next, a moth drawn to the flame. How she had struggled in the beginning; how quickly she had succumbed to the metaphorical chains that threatened to strangle the life from her. She was a captive to it, and as she rest at the zenith of the steps she found solace in the shadows cast down upon her from the nameless lords.

It took her far to long to recognize that she was not the only one seeking solitude from the temple. The sound of footsteps announced his presence, but they did not reach her ears. Huddled against the base of the right lord, she had drawn herself into a fetal position. The cold stone against her cheek was more comfort than she had found in all the recent days that had slipped by. Just how many had she could not say for time had little meaning.

With matted, unwashed ebon-hued hair and attire bleached to a perfect white, she seemed out of place. A woman alone, defeated. She had strayed from her righteous path and only upon this desolate world had she found any semblance of sanity. There was no spark that could be found within her crystalline blue eyes. Her expression mirrored the lifelessness of her gaze, showing her for what she was.

"Hello old ones. Can you hear me as I hear you?" said the man after he removed his cowl.

Unfocused eyes struggled to regain what they had lost, blinking rapidly. Slowly, the woman pushed herself up into a sitting position. With the heel of her palm rubbing at her face, she struggled against the numbing void that had dulled her mind to the world. Her mouth, lips, and throat felt dry and she attempted to wet them with her tongue, but found it to be in vain.

The first inkling of emotion began to trickle, creating disruptive ripples in the still pool, and she felt the incoming tide of confusion. How long had it been since she had felt anything but the cold and chill of isolation? With a feeble attempt to find some fraction of focus, she cleared her throat and squinted at him.

"Who... Are you talking to?" she asked, her voice strange in her ears- as if someone else had spoken for her.

Nervousness mingled with confusion, congealing into a ball of anxiety within her breast. She did not recognize anything. Not him, not the steps beneath him, nor the scenery behind him. As her eyes darted about her, the woman desperately longed for something familiar, something recognizable.

There! Right on the steps just beside the stranger's heels.

On her hands and knees, she drew herself away from the statue and began to crawl towards the saber that rest upon the broken stones, tarnished and soiled.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="[/FONT][FONT='times new roman']Darth Praetorias"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

A quiet chuckle fell from the cloaked man's lips.

Gray eyes stared out from a mask of amusement. With exaggerated care, he lowered down on one knee and placed a hand over the lost weapon. He took it into his cloak, and rose back up to his feet. He held the weapon up high above his head, examining its make. He seemed to pay the woman now mind, so wrapped up in this little trinket was he.

"I speak to the dead," he finally answered. "This is a place of ruin. Whatever might have called it home in the past has long since passed on. Nothing here remains, save for whispers and phantoms..." Another quiet laughed escaped him. "And you, apparently. I am surprised anyone can live in this place. It is a rotting thing -- a canker in the heart of this world. I would expect anyone who hailed from within to have succumbed to its madness long ago."

It was only then that Mephirium looked upon the woman. He quirked a brow as he took in her appearance. She wore the garments of his old order, though they were more archaic than the usual leather he expected modern Jedi. His lips curled into a thin, but not unwelcoming smile.

"What is your name?" He asked kindly, the tarnished weapon she had been crawling for held in an outstretched hand toward her. "And why are you here, Jedi?"

[member="Alecandria"], [member="Darth Praetorias"]

 

[Astrid]

(Dang it...)

 

[Alecandria]

The battered hilt was so far away and to see it lifted by a stranger was utterly devastating. The outstretched arm followed the weapon as it was lifted over head, desperate for it. With it held far beyond her reach above her and the ruined stones, the tides of despair arose and threatened to drag her back into the awaiting river below. The sound of her arm falling and dropping down to the stone was her acceptance of defeat. She had lost the key to her sanity, and now she had nothing.

Her head bowed, once bright eyes fading and disappearing behind closed lids. The saber had been her most prized possession, one she had managed to keep close to her person throughout the nightmares that clawed at her mind. It had served as a beacon to keep the madness at bay and without it she knew it would only be a matter of time.

His words, they sparked something within her. The broken faint series of laughs that gurgled passed her lips were incomplete, cracking and tarnished by the parching dryness within her mouth. Lips moved and her ruined vocal cords produced a whispered rasp of a voice.

"You speak to the dead?" she managed to say. "...And you speak of madness coming from within."

There was a seed of madness in everyone, a hearty weed that festered and bloomed on negative emotions and twisted thoughts. It threatened to consume, feed and devour everything around it. She'd been taught and directed on how to keep it at bay, but she had failed. The vines coiled and tightened, eagerly awaiting more nourishment.

It was at that moment that moment that the woman froze, captivated in inanimation. With her head bowed, her dark hair creating a barricade around her vision, she stared at the backs of her dirtied hands in realization. All this time and she had spent it nurturing the fiend within her. Remembrance of what had initiated her flight flooded back to her like a tidal wave. Fear induced a chill within her and she shivered and the old stones beneath her that had once been cold were now warm.

With the racing of her mind, she almost missed his address. His voice broke through the concoctions of emotions and the woman lifted her head. Her saber, he was returning it. It had to be a trick, a play of the light. Narrowing her eyes, squinting to study the tarnished metal, she could find no visible signs of it being a ploy. Cautiously, she locked her gaze upon his face and studied him as she drew her legs beneath her.

Rising with uneasiness within her limbs, the Jedi wrapped both hands around the saber with a such timidness it was as if she expected it to be a mirage. The feel of the weapon within her hands was undeniable. It was real, it was hers, and now it was back where it belonged.

A meager smile broke out over her soiled face as she took the weapon from him.

"Thanks," she whispered as she caressed it against her cheek for a moment, still in disbelief that it was real, before she managed a reply.

"I," she began, lowering the weapon before her with both hands caressing it with loving tenderness. "I am Alecandria DeLeon."

The question remained. Why was she here at a ruined temple. With a glance over her shoulder and up at the two forgotten lords, she could give no answer for no answer came. Confusion set in upon her face as she turned it back to him, and there was no mistaking the inner struggle that she endured to figure out the answer for herself. Finally, she gave up and said, "I don't know. Who are you and why are you here?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="Darth Praetorias"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

The Sith took a deep breath. He felt the cold air pass through his system and into his lungs. It had been a while since he felt this way, the dark past of this place had permanently stained the air with a vile scent of blood, and to those capable of perceiving the Force, the temple was permanently permeated by a deep sense of fear and dread. The black walls of the temple had stayed clean over all these years, every drop of blood removed as soon as it was spilled, for the blood of mortals was not worthy to stain these walls, that much he could gleam from what he had read so far; Yet, the smell of blood was still distinctly recognisable within the air. Curious.

Praetorias was about to venture deeper into the temple when he felt something come closer. It was not something that he had felt before, but it was definitely a Dark Sider. But who? He couldn't place the unique Force signature of this person on anyone or anything he had met before, was it a Sith who had followed him here to assassinate him? Unlikely, perhaps it was a Dark Jedi seeking Sith knowledge? Possible, yet the presence was strong in the Force, though, Praetorias mused, they may not be trained. He decided it would be best to postpone his exploration of this temple and investigate this newly arrived presence.

As he turned to go back through the opened temple doors, he let his cloak envelop him, hiding every part of his body with the cloak and letting a deep shadow fall onto his face. Anonymity was one of the Sith's greatest weapons and if his opposition couldn't figure out who he was, then he could gain an advantage and the element of surprise.

When he passed the temple's entrance and stepped into the "daylight", all he could see before him was a man holding a lightsaber and a woman grasping for it, but failing miserably. There were two then, but he had not felt one of them. Curious. Was the dark presence of the one overpowering the presence of the other? Or was there a different reason he could barely notice the force presence of the woman? Too many questions, it was time to get answers.

He took another few steps, silently striding through the courtyard towards the twin statues.

"Visitors, hm? I had not been expecting any company." His voice was cold and mocking, though retained the sinister tone so characteristic of the Sith.

[member="Alecandria"] | [member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"I am nothing, but for you, I am a friend." Mephirium explained, his smile melting into something that seemed more genuine. He watched as the woman drew the weapon close to her face, as if it were the only thing anchoring her to her swiftly shattering sanity. Yet, despite her unsteadiness, he felt her presence within the ethereal. This one was a Jedi, for that was the only explanation he could find to her chosen response. How she came to be here, only the Great Ocean knew.

Mephirium suspected it had been the currents themselves that brought her to him. The thought pleased him, though he did not let it show. "For posterity's sake, you may call me Mephirium. I do not know why you have come here, Alecandria DeLeon, but you have chosen a very poor place of residence."

A fleeting thought passed through Mephirium's mind. He considered it for a moment; his brow furrowing as he debated with himself. Before he could come to a decision, another figure announced himself, this one far more similar to Mephirium. He dare not reach out to touch this one's mind, for only the fool opened himself to a rival without prior knowledge of the situation.

Mephirium beckoned upward toward the disheveled woman. "Get up, Alecandria." He spoke, the words uttered like a gentle suggestion, but most certainly an order. Mephirium met the stranger with a confident smile.

"Nor did I expect any inhabitants, yet I find two." Mephirium gestured toward Alecandria. "Are you the reason for her current condition?"

[member="Darth Praetorias"], [member="Alecandria"]

 

[Alecandria]

Nothing but a friend? In such a place as this? Doubt narrowed her crystalline eyes as she stared at him, dubious. With difficulty, she tore her gaze away from him and forced herself to once more observe the temple in all it's dark glory. A scent she had not picked up previously reached her and threatened to cause rise the bile from her stomach. Though she was successful in preventing herself from becoming overwhelmed, she could not rid the acidic taste from her tongue no matter how many times she made an attempt to forcefully swallow it away. Her nose scrunched in displeasure before her focus befell the second man, cowled like her supposed friend, Mephirium.

Once more she found herself touched by the chill, but this time it was not out of anxiety from the separation from the dormant saber in her hands. It emanated from the other and penetrated every fiber of her being. As she shivered, frozen like a creature caught in the beams of a moving vehicle, Alecandria was in awe. Fascinated by the sheer overwhelming presence that the stranger-- no, both strangers radiated, she was meek and insignificant before them.

"Get up, Alecandria," Mephirium commanded.

Obediently, she obeyed and rose slowly to her feet, pushing herself up with one hand relinquishing hold upon the saber and pressed against the cold stone. Her stance was unsteady, as if she had been laying for an overly extended amount of time. As her legs ached and her spine protested, the dark haired woman forced her shoulders back and lifted her chin, forcing herself into a stance of faux confidence.

Though Mephirium had given her no valid reason to be concerned for her safety, the other had not. The few scant words in which had been uttered from beneath the cowl had implied that they were visitors to his house. If such a haunting place was his domain, then she could expect little from him but twisted expectations. The scent of blood alone was enough to imbue distrust for him.

"He is not responsible," Alecandria murmured, after clearing her throat. "It is by my own hand and mine alone." It was the truth, after all. She had exiled herself for being weak and unworthy. She had failed and this was her self-induced punishment.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="Darth Praetorias"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

The woman was a stranger to the man then? What were the chances? Three complete strangers finding themselves at the entrance of a dark temple of the Sith, two powerful, one weak, and apparently going through some kind of episode. It was a bit amusing, the way the Force worked. It picked the worst and most random moments to make complete strangers convene in the most unlikely of places. Praetorias had certainly not expected to meet anyone besides perhaps the occasional crazed lunatic within the tombs of the temple, so finding not one but two people had also come to this place was definitely surprising.

Praetorias felt a shift in the woman, as slight as it may have been, it seemed like she had regained at least a fraction of her confidence, though she was trying to feign more. A simple stance won't hide fear, however, nor will it amplify confidence where there was little to none to begin with. This young one truly was a mess, though it seemed like that hadn't always been the case. Finding out more about what had brought about this state seemed like an entertaining enough endeavour and more importantly for her sake a reason to keep her alive.

While he could garner a few bits of information from the woman's appearance, behaviour and emotions, the man, however, remained a mystery. He had uttered words that could be interpreted as concern for the woman, yet he could feel no true compassion behind his words. So what was he trying to accomplish? Why had he come to this temple? And what would he do now that there was Sith Lord standing before him?

Questions, questions. Questions that would be answered in due time, he imagined.

"That would be correct. I must admit, both of you are strangers to me. But, not to worry, I shan't harm you." He spoke, his voice carrying a more neutral somewhat cordial tone. At least for now.

"May I ask what brings you to a place as isolated as this one?"

[member="Alecandria"] | [member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEc2zEQ0FTc

​

​

Mephirium found himself surprised, though he did not let it show. His gaze passed from the young woman to the figure adjacent to her. This one carried the taint of the ethereal, a hint of mastery to him. Even still, Mephirium was unperturbed. He'd killed self-proclaimed gods with similar powers.; another usurper's death would make little difference to him.

"Simple exploration," he explained, "Consolidating my knowledge before I make any great claims." Mephirium paused, a wry smile breaking his stony visage. "You would not harm me, my friend. You may try, should you wish, but now is not the time."

Without any further explanation, he reached out and took Alecandria by the forearm. With a gentle tug, he would begin to lead her up the steps, and into the arch of the temple.

"You may call me Mephirium, stranger. The woman is Alecandria." He relinquished his grip on the Jedi's arm. "We've come to see your realm. Would you kindly show me what remains within, and explain as to whom you might be."

This one was a rival. Yet, rival or not, Mephirium would not be intimidated. He watched the stranger with an almost casual air to him, knowing his safety was assured. Alecandria would respond were he to ask something of her. She was a broken women, and the lightsaber he had handed her might as well have been chains tying her destiny to his own. Should this figure attempt to be hostile, he would find not one, but two opponents.

But then Mephirium did not need the ruined Jedi to put an end to such a threat.

Smiling pleasantly, he waved a hand toward the temple. "Show me what awaits within. Perhaps we will find what has led to Alecandria's ailment -- perhaps you will not have to die."

[member="Darth Praetorias"], [member="Alecandria"]

 

[Alecandria]

Broken she might have been, but not stupid. The longer she remained out of her stupor, the more clarity she obtained. The fog was receding from her mind and with it's regression she could recall the events that had led her to where she stood now. The grip upon her saber tightened, the knuckles of her hand paling with the pressured, as her mind raced desperately to understand.

It was not to come to light, for Mephirium's hand grasped her arm and pulled her up the stares. Startled from her thoughts, the Jedi let out a gasp of surprise as she nearly stumbled against the movement. Though she managed to keep herself on her feet up the ascension, when she was released from the stranger's hold she fell to her knees.

The chime of her name reached her ears and she lifted her head and looked up at him, brilliant blue eyes narrowing. Then she looked up at the temple. She did not need for either of them to voice the nature of the temple. She knew why she had come. Her penance was ironic. She had condemned herself for falling victim to the dark temptation and had sentenced herself to exile, in an attempt to clear her path of debris so that she may one day return to her order untainted. It was ironic that the penitent woman would find herself on the doorsteps of the Sith.

Her laughter began quietly and ended a few scant seconds later. "You won't find my ailment within the temple," Alecandria stated, the false confidence she had portrayed breaking way for true confidence. Confidence that drew her back to her feet and sparked a grin upon her face. "There's no reason to throw around threats, Mephirium. Particularly when he has given his word."

Alecandria redirected her focus upon the man before them. "Will you be our guide, stranger?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="Darth Praetorias"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

An arrogant fool, yet a powerful one. While Praetorias wished to simply rid himself of the arrogant man to better be able to find out what happened to the woman, he could feel there was great power within him. Power, that when used to aid his cause, could be more than just useful, but before the steps of creating an alliance were initiated, the Sith would have to acquire more information on this man, who claims to be a killer of gods; Serving as a guide for the two would be the perfect opportunity to do just that, and perhaps, just perhaps, the two might reach an agreement and then they could also find out what had caused the woman's current condition. Praetorias could think of many causes, though he would prefer if it was some kind of ancient artefact.

"Quite true, young one. No threats are needed, I am sure we can be civil?" The Sith turned a bit, showing his side to the two newcomers, and raised the arm opposite them from underneath his cloak to point towards the temple.

"An ancient temple, this one, unknown to most archives, even those o the Jedi, though they may claim their archives are complete. I must admit, I am not a familiar with the tombs of this facility as I would like to be, however I've made camp within the entrance hall of the Academy, so if you would, please, come in!" His voice kept the more cordial tone, he did not wish to seem like an uncaring host after all.

As he stood, waiting for the two to pass him and enter, his head turned back towards the two, tracking their movements with his eyes.

It was true, he had not explored much of the catacombs, but he was quite familiar with everything above the ground. Mostly old chambers for the various ranking Sith, simple training rooms, a grand assembly hall, a few other useful rooms, and even an auditorium, the discovery of which had been quite the pleasant surprise for Praetorias. He didn't know many other Sith who were connoisseurs of the arts, especially none that were ancient. He was certain there would be many uses for these premises, especially once they had discovered what else lurked underneath these walls, the mountain at the top of which the Academy was located was large enough to contain a small town inside it, one could only imagine what the Sith of old had stored down there; the prospect of finding out was quite exciting, Praetorias had to admit.

[member="Alecandria"] | [member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Mephirium did naught but quirk a brow at the girl. "How truly naive and innocent you are," he mused, stating nothing further on the matter as his counterpart spoke. With narrowed eyes, he listened to whatever it was this stranger had to say. Deciding that the stranger presented no threat for the moment, Mephirium complied, drawing his cowl up over his features as they cleared the arched entrance.

He scanned the ancient architecture of the building, pleased that it fell in line with what he had expected of such a place. He had spent a great deal of time within the old tombs before the death of the false emperor, and such knowledge learned was not easily forgotten. Arcane runes scrawled into the dull permacrete drew his thoughts to the powers granted to him by his constituents -- powers that had set him far above the vast majority of his peers. He felt it stir in his blood, a dull red haze that he had long since learned to control with disciplined thought. He put the latter to work as he had a hundred times before, and the haze faded.

"Your name?" He asked of his new compatriot. He made a point to look as if he were not paying attention, his eyes darting from one alcove to the next. In reality, he was far too aware of the Sith Lord and the girl at his side.

Mephirium smiled. "The Jedi are shattered, unfortunately for them. The information they possess is woefully inadequate. Of that, I can speak confidently." As they came around a curve, Mephirium's words drew to a distinct pause. When he spoke, there was more power to his voice. "Tell me, stranger, did you serve the Dark Lord?"

[member="Darth Praetorias"], [member="Alecandria"]

 

[Alecandria]

Alecandria followed Mephirium passed the second stranger, whose name had not been given. With one powerful man before her and one beside her, she felt utterly insignificant. She could not help the hesitant halt that froze her steps as she stood before him, as Mephirium continued. Nor could she help but stare at the shadows the cowl cast upon his face. They were like giants to the meager rodent at their feet. With difficulty, she tore her focus from him and latched it upon the back of his counterpart.

With haste in her steps, she caught up with Mephirium. With her back turned to Praetorias, she felt vulnerable. Distrust kept turning her head, stealing glances over her shoulder at him. Very aware of her actions, Alecandria forced herself to redirect herself and key in upon the details around them. She quickly became enthralled with them, fascinated by the architecture. The trickle of annoyance that had sparked within her at being referred to as naive and innocent faded away.

When Mephirium's words shattered momentary silence, Alecandria came to an abrupt halt. Dark Lord? Suspicion etched itself over her face as she looked from one cowled figure to the next. Of course, it made sense. It should have made sense before they had even entered through the temple's threshold. Bluntly, she spoke. "You're both Sith, are you not?"

Her voice sounded dumb in her own ears, and regret washed over her. She'd always been taught that the Sith were not to be trusted, that they could not be trusted. They were compulsive, violent, deceitful, and utterly evil. As the woman shot a look once more at the both of them, she furrowed her brow and once more tightened her hold upon her saber.

The foreign temple and persons began to overwhelm her like a tidal wave. Her instincts screamed for flight, for her to run and hide. She was no match for these two powerful individuals, and she knew that, but her tutoring told her that if her suspicions were true then it would be a good day to die, in a feeble attempt to redeem herself. There was honor in the attempt, but was it worth death? No. She was a coward and the thought of falling lifeless to the floor was not as appealing as seeing the following day. Instead of activating her saber, Alecandria's grip relaxed and she slipped the tarnished weapon through the loop upon her hip.

With her hands empty of her most prized possession, she willed the disruptive torrents from her mind. Finding that it was easier than expected, Alecandria turned her face towards Praetorias, eagerly awaiting his responses.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="Darth Praetorias"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

As the two strangers entered into the first great hall of the temple, Praetorias followed. He let one hand slide over the cold black stone of the doors, observing the fine carvings in the stone as he entered once more. The engravings were in ancient high Sith, a rare language nowadays, it had been used prominently by the ancient Sith. It was a language that all serious Sith knew, a way of communicating knowledge only to those who were worthy. These inscriptions were similar, they were the first words of the Sith Code: "Peace is a lie". Words that were very true, for nothing in life was possible without conflict, there were only temporary intervals between conflicts, true peace was an impossible achievement.

He followed after the two, positioning himself next to the man apparently known as Mephirium, observing the ancient runes also. The next words of the Sith code "There is only passion.". It was essential for any Sith to embrace their passions, otherwise they'd be like the Jedi, stagnant, unchanging, weak. There was no growth without conflict and conflict was driven by passion. There is no way to power that does not involve conflict, it was a natural impossibility, just like the everlasting peace the Jedi craved.

"I suppose it would only be courteous to give mine, as you would be at a disadvantage otherwise. I am known as Praetorias." He paused a few moments before he was about to speak again, however before he got the chance the man asked another question.

"The Dark Lord of the One Sith?" He said, an almost mocking tone to his voice. "No, I had better things to do than squabble and fratrenise with simpletons like the One Sith." The One Sith may have been a successful Order, but they were not the ones who were destined to rule. Praetorias was quite pleased however to hear that the Jedi were weakened and in disarray.

Then the young one spoke up again, her resolve manifesting itself again as she put away her sabre. Curious, had she found new hope or simply regained her senses? Or maybe the gravitas of the situation had dawned on her subconscious and it had temporarily reformed her into a coherent person in a vain attempt to save herself? Most curious indeed.

The Sith chuckled grimly, turned his head towards the woman, face still concealed behind shadows; Though in the dark of the temple the slight red-yellow glow of his eyes was visible, if only faintly. "Well observed, young lady. What will you do, now that I have confirmed your suspicions?"

Although it was not visible, his face had adopted a eerie grin, as he allowed the Force to flow through himself, channelling his emotions, letting the Aura of Uneasiness he usually emanated grow in strength. He was sure his fellow Dark Sider would have no problem dealing with it, as powerful as he seemed to be, but it would ensure the woman would not completely regain her composure, keeping her off-balance, if she was weak-willed enough to succumb to it at least.

[member="Alecandria"] | [member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Mephirium's suspicions were confirmed. Pleased, the Sith Lord flashed his host a knowing smile, as if he had been aware of the man's identity from the very beginning. His fingers trailed along the archaic runes carved into basalt of the wall; his mind formed the messages the runes conveyed without a thought. It was second nature, just as reading basic might be to your average being. He never actually looked at the runes, content to let touch be his sole source of information.

"Neither did I," Mephirium answered, a pleasant coo to his voice. He came to a stop near the center of the great hall, his words carrying like those of a much larger being through the empty corridors. "I fought against him. He was unworthy, and the empire he created was a rotten thing sitting upon my throne. My followers and I put an end to him. We carved out his empire's heart, and the body died shortly thereafter."

The words were spoken with aggression and pride. There was no further testing to Mephirium's tone, only certainty. He had come here for this Sith Lord, and the girl was shaping up to be a second prize. He turned upon the two of them, and reached up to draw back his cowl. Pale blue eyes framed in a patrician face peered at the both of them.

"We are Sith, my dear, of the oldest make. You've walked into a nest of vipers, but I've no intention to bite you. We met on good faith, and we will leave on it as well, but know that your sudden burst of focus is only allowed because I will it."

As if to emphasize this, he waited a few moments for Praetorias' disorientation to take effect, and dropped a metaphysical wall around the girl to block it. The efforts was taxing, but not beyond Mephirium's ability. "And you, Praetorias, are the reason I have come here."

[member="Darth Praetorias"], [member="Alecandria"]

 

[Alecandria]

So, the stranger had a name and his name was Praetorias. The name resonated with her, the weight of it portraying the power behind it. Names were things of power. People answered to them, even though their specific name may not have necessarily been unique to them alone; they would answer, either way. Names were identity, a keepsake from the beginning of days. You could damn a name, cherish a name, threaten with a name, love a name. There had been those in the past that had disagreed with her on the topic, but none could dissuade her from her belief in them.

A thought trickled into her mind and she froze.

Praetorias and Mephirium, two powerful and foreboding Sith Lords. Both united under one cause. That alone thought terrified her more than the exertion of Praetorias' will. It did assist in fracturing her slowly recuperating confidence, widening the rift that had been born. If these two powerful men before her were to accept an alliance between them, there would be no stopping them. Of that, she had no doubt.

The One Sith she had heard about, learned about, but had little to concern herself with. History was history. However, if what Mephirium had said was true and that he was the mastermind puppeteer behind the downfall of the shattered empire, that he as truly the one that had orchestrated it... Alecandria's gaze flicked from Praetorias to look upon Mephirium's face. She swallowed hard as she stared in fear, her face representing the horrific realization of the mess she found herself.

An unsteady, subconscious step was taken and she nearly tripped over the hem of her robe. Wild eyed, the inate animalistic instincts sounded the alarm bells and the urge to run was unbearably predominate in her mind. It was at that moment that Mephirium's barrier barricaded her from the daunting pressure from the other Sith.

Though she found no comfort in the act, it granted her the opportunity to reign in her primal nature and halt the second backwards step that would have been the final one she would have taken before she began her flight from the Temple. Once more she attempted to swallow the knot of anxiety within her throat. All the while, her gaze shifted from one Sith to the other, trying to find a happy medium where she could fully watch both at the same time. Not that it mattered, truly. If they made an attempt to cut off her life, she was powerless to prevent it.

With no option but to remain in both Sith Lords' good graces, she had little choice but to remain where she was and provide them no reason to eradicate her from the plane of existence. As she focused upon them, Alecandria clasped her hands together in front of her; If her hands were locked together, then perhaps they would not notice how visibly that they shook.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]
[member="Darth Praetorias"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

The wind outside the temple picked up, what had been a mere zephyr a few moments earlier had turned into a tempest. The soft, soothing voices were now a howling scream, and the change had been sudden, as if the wind was responding to the use of the Dark Side. Curious, indeed. The Sith Lord turned towards the entrance, observing the scant light shining through the gap between the temple doors. The wind was coming inside through that gap, lowering the temperature by a few degrees, creating an atmosphere unnecessarily replete with loud distraction. Properly understanding the words of his fellow explorers would be a strain on the ears, thus a reduction in noise would be apt. Ceasing his efforts to unbalance the young woman, the old Epicanthix reached out with the Force to close the door. He mustered as much strength as he thought would be required, yet, as he tried to move the doors, they merely moved slightly. Somewhat taken aback by this, he focused more energy and effort into moving the doors; This time succeeding, though the doors only moved slowly and heavily.

The Sith made a mental note about the stone, it seemed to be heavier than the initial observation would indicate. Now why the creators of this place would want that, he could not answer precisely, only offer up theories. The increase in wind speed was also something that would need to be further investigated. However, there were other matters the Darth would have to set his attention towards, matters that would dictate the immediate and far-reaching future for him and the two visitors.

"Indeed? That is, admittedly, surprising, as I had hoped to keep a fairly low profile after the events on-board the Omega. Why is it, oh slayer of the beast, that you would seek out someone of my ilk?" Assuming the same cordial tone he had used a few moments ago, as he observed the runes.

The Sith had noticed the man's barrier earlier and had abated his efforts of unbalancing the young one as well, before he spoke. The barrier had been an indication that perhaps she was important to the man, though he had waited before creating it, indicating he wished for her to be in a state of confusion or disorder, leading Praetorias to believe that she may not be as important as the protective behaviour had indicated.

[member="Alecandria"] | [member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

No one was going anywhere.

The Great Ocean was tumultuous at best, and suicidal at worst. It rumbled like an angered beast and lashed out at any that drew too close. It was in a state of disarray that Mephirium had come to recognize at imbalance; the breaking of perfection. He acknowledged it with a quirk of his brow, and eyes of slate and storms fell to Alecandria. She was the source, this woman whom should have been of no consequence. It had been wise to shield her from Praetorias' assault, Mephirium decided.

"You have," Mephirium relented, "It was quite difficult to track you down. Even more so to actually make it here." There was nothing to fear here. Mephirium folded his arms over his chest, his hands far from any of his physical weapons. His mastery over the ethereal and its many shifting currents would more than do, should hostilities arise.

Then again, Praetorias was not the type for such treachery. Mephirium had come to that conclusion upon looking at this decrepit creature. No, Praetorias' had far too much potential to behave like some form of slathering barbarian.

"I came to bring you to my side. It is time you left your tombs," he gestured toward Alecandria. "She was drawn here as well; perhaps for the same reason as I."

[member="Darth Praetorias"], [member="Alecandria"]