Faction Leviathan of the Left-Handed God [Sith Warlords]

[Darth Voyance]

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Sith Warlord Nebula Expeditionary Fleet​

Inside Typhojem's Storm

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The Violent Crimson Nebula, Typhojem’s Storm by Sith Warlord designation, swarmed the ruinous world of Sepulcher like a bloody malaise. It flooded the vast space around it with churning cosmic destruction. Its crimson complexion was born from ancient super novae eruptions that rendered ancient stars into blasted carcasses of slow decaying molecular clouds sodden with ionized gas and dust. Born within their scattered celestial bodies are nascent star nurseries that birthed and killed their own children. The cycles of cosmic horror had bred a darkness within the red brilliant displays in the nebula.​

The natural devastation drew out the Dark Side from the Force’s shadow in all things natural. It is perhaps why the ancient Sith Pure-Bloods had been drawn to its dark siren call after the ravaging of their home world Korriban at the end of the Great Hyperspace War. It is also perhaps what fueled the Dark Ritual that would destroy Sepulcher and blast in into a cluster of planetoid debris. And it was what corrupted the leviathan beasts the Warlord’s Armada now hunted through the cursed inhospitable seas of the Storm.​

The seas of the Storm were dangerous two any vessel – no matter how protected by titanic hull plates, powerful shields, and even Dark Side manipulation. There were geographic hazards in the storm – ionized gas storms that spat invisible radioactive waves of ion and radiated electrons that ate at shielding, circuitry and poisoned crews with slow death. Then there were the constant gnarled and swarming asteroid, meteor, and carbonberg fields that clogged any path not properly charted within the ancient Sith Wayfinder maps that were stored in the relic dark compasses by the Sith Pureblood refugees. Beyond this was the treacherous fauna. Great pods of Blixus and Oswafts, hiding in carbonbergs, or lurking behind a storm. Exogorths nested in massive asteroids and other ship and crew devouring vermin of the crimson deep. But, what the Warlord’s Armada and indeed the Warlords that commanded the expedition were chasing was the greatest hazard – the Leviathan Fleet: the Dark Side corrupted and incredibly ancient pod of Purrgil. The Warlord’s wanton avarice for power had attracted their attention to these ship destroying beasts seeking to tame their Dark Side corruption and use it to bind them to their will.​

It would be no easy task – thanks in part to the Storm and the other beasts that would be attracted to the expeditionary fleet. The Sith Wayfinders had charted precious little lanes out into the Storm. There was the lane used most frequently by the Warlord’s – the Crusader’s Path, the Wayfinder lane that allowed the fleets of the Warlord’s to exit the Storm entirely to assault the galaxy. But there were few that charted inter-nebula lanes through the Storm. The astrogation officers, Sith Arcanists, and even Darth Voyance herself – mused over the Wayfinder Maps, and of ancient, preserved records of the Purrgil encountered by the Sith Purebloods. All the paltry remnants of knowledge were used to surmise the feeding grounds of the Purrgil. A lane was chosen, designated: The Leviathan’s Wrath. It was this lane that the expeditionary fleet was drifting through.​

To protect the fleet of Tuk’ata Class Battleships – all power was routed to shields, weaponry energy was reduced, and the ships were littered with Sith Knights, Tyrophytes, and Lords and assigned duties of pooling their powers of the Dark Side to protect the fleet. Using their twisted talents in the Force to unleash invisible energy blasts to shunt aside debris, protect the fleet from ionic lightning storms, and to discourage creatures that may attack the ships. She had devised the hunt as a means to also train the Sith under her. The Storm was a powerful bale of the Dark Side and it would either strengthen the worthy or kill the unworthy. This was the Way of the Warlords – a brutal adherence to the Sith Code. No ornamental academy to coddle and nurture. Strength freed a Sith to greater strength – in the game of the Dark Side, you either win or die.​

Darth Voyance, aboard the battleship the Reliquary, stood over the Sith Wayfinder linked into the command bridge’s circuitry via a pedestal installed on the raised walkway that overlooked the datapits to either side. She watched the red lights within it burst and flicker in brief constellations of ancient mechanical calculation. Stood behind her was her apprentice Siqsa Kun – her Shadow Hand and across from her the captain of the Reliquary, the young and talented Admiral Hideki Satou . Voyance, still recovering from surviving the sinking and destruction of the Soothsayer on Korriban had hid her usually resplendent azurian Rutian face behind a black geometrically grim mask. The vocoder inside translated her voice in a crude metallic ring when she spoke. She turned around and face the Admiral pointing to him with her black gloved finger.​

“Keep our current course, Admiral,” said Voyance, “I will take the Red One…” she said pointing to Siqsa, continuing, “…and attend to the Sith gathered at the Meditation Sphere Chamber and guide the ritual protection of our ship. When we reach the staging grounds, have all ships prepare for engagement with the Purrgil. We must take extra care when the Dark Ultra is drawn out. He is the alpha and he is the focus of this hunt. You are in command.”​

The other Warlords – Kascalion Giedfield and Vora Kaar ar were in command of their own vessels and own group of Sith to tutor in what ever fashion they deemed necessary. Voyance, had assembled hers within the Meditation Sphere Chamber that were built into every Tuk’ata Class Battleship – allowing for the Warlord’s armada to call upon the annihilating powers of technology and the Dark Side. Having given her commands she gestured to Siqsa Kun to follow and left the Admiral to his duties. She left the bridge and made way to her students – unknowing in the dangerous methods of their soon to be Master.

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[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

A ship drifted along not far from the other Sith vessels. This particular ship was smaller, no logistics nightmare, a few dozen crew instead of thousands. It had been an elite troop transport once, until Ashin ripped the gung-ho frippery out and remade its cavernous rooms.

Phrik-plated chambers both large and snug, open and contorted, provided space to learn the lightsaber against peers and elite droids. Meditation spheres and circles gave place for mental discipline in partnership with the physical. Training tools - tonkutaji, midvanot, more traditional things - helped Sith hone specific skills in precise ways. Instead of a generalized Dark Side reek, this ship felt like pride. It felt implacable. It felt grim, hungry, but somehow fulfilled in its purposefulness.

This was the maiden flight of Ashin Varanin's first Sith academy: the Pomojema. A place for Knights to become Lords, and Lords to become, well, worth her time. To study on the Pomojema - an exclusive opportunity - meant temporarily surrendering a small fraction of one's power, which went toward Ashin's open and unabashed goal: finding and resurrecting the soul of Spencer Varanin . A constant Force call radiated into the Netherworld, hailing Ashin's lost wife.

Those aboard were a disparate bunch. Survivors of Ke'dem, veteran Lords of the Fringe, a couple of Raskava Journeymen, qo'saarai tuk'ata, the occasional cousin or clone who'd earned their stripes. Some followed the great purrgil chase in their minds, or disengaged in small ships to join the hunt. For her part, Ashin kept her focus on the Warlords' big Sith cruisers. Just in case.

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Hallowed Grave Capital Ship​

Typhojem's Storm ​

From the bridge of the capital ship he could see all, the cruisers, the Purrgills, the expanse of the nebula. But as always, the thing he stared at was the space behind the stars. It was clouded by gas the colour of freshly spilled blood, but it was there. It was always there, and Vinaze could never look away.

The officers knew not to interrupt him. They took wide berth around him as he gazed from the view-port. He had been dragged from his lab to lead acolytes in prayer, of all things. He deserved this moment of respite before he went to the meditation chambers below.

Alas, despite his distaste for large gatherings such as this, it was for the cause. These Purrgills were going to be a powerful new weapon, and they could not be bound to the will of the dark side by a single Sith Lord.

He pushed himself away from the window-sill he leaned against and turned to leave the bridge. He said nothing to the crew, nor made eye contact with them lest they get the impression they were worth his time.

He descended into the bowels of the ship, feeling the presence of the congregating acolytes awaiting him. As he entered the mediation room, dozens of figures cloaked in black robes were kneeling in front of a large view port that looked out into the cosmos. The Purrgills floated ever so close. They were graceful and robust creatures, and they would symbolize the Warlords in many ways when they crushed Sith-Imperial vessels in their jaws.

He could feel the gathered students tense up as he passed them, though it was surely nothing like what they would feel if the Sith'ari himself showed his face for this event. Taking his place at the head of the group, he turned to face them, and look down on them. They were cultists, acolytes, knights, and priests. They were just one part of the thick web of alliances that had come to be known as the Warlords of the Sith.

"Sith," he sharply, calling the dark mass to attention. "I am Darth Vinaze. It is my duty to lead you in performing the Ascendancy's part in the ritual to bind these beasts. If luck is to be with us, we may be joined by the Dread Autarch himself. No doubt his voice will lend much power to our chant. You will follow my lead to perfection. There is no room for failures in our crusade, and we must not fail to capture these great beasts."

As he finished his curt introduction, he began to chant in deep Ur-Kittat the words of the ritual. His hands raised to beckon them to follow. They were calling out to the force en masse, and Vinaze knew well that when you called to the force with all your might, the force answered back. Without the full might of the other ships pouring their energy into the ritual it would do nothing, but there was no harm in warming up the dark choir kneeling before him...

Vora Kaar | Ashin Cardé Varanin | Darth Voyance | Kascalion Giedfield | Ilitherna | Hideki Satou ​

 

[Vora Kaar]

Aboard The Bastard's Blade
Flagship of The Errant Fleet

Men and women of the Order continued to pace, or race around the bridge. Issuing out commands, sending down readings, and further progressing their work in preparation for what could only be a momentous occasion. One that could see the Warlords, as well as those within be seen at greater heights than the previous iteration. Darth Voyance and her posse of acolytes, and mages convened to bring together a feat of power, strength and force that is rarely seen. Many tales of Sith Lords and Ladies of the past, seeking the power of the force, found it not within the emotional frames of sentient humanids, but instead, creatures bound to them and corrupted to an impressive degree.

Creatures known for this, The Sith Wyrm, Leviathans, Terenateks, and so many more. All were creations, tools of war in which were used to further not just the agenda of one Sith Individual, but that of an Empire, an Order, or the Sith as a whole. Should one who is invested in such skills, bring forth the power to tame, and control such beasts of great magnitude, one would find victory many times over.

Vora Kaar, a man known to some as a being who sought to bring Strength to the Sith, and their waning Empire, had pushed forward to be present at this endeavor. Not to just offer aid, but to directly see how the other Warlords of the Sith would be fortifying their troops, strengthening their resolve, and empowering themselves.

Voyance was a dreamer. A woman who sought many things. While direct power may be one, she tends to work within the shadows. Not displaying herself unless necessary, or done in a tactical decision. Seeing her almost openly invite the other Warlords into this, only provided Vora with a renewed vigor compared to the previous iteration that had been slain by turncoats. The New Imperial Order. The Onyx Helm almost spat at the mere thought of such.

However, the aspect of another Warlord displaying themselves openly made Vora yearn for the Sith. Kascalion Giedfield had once proclaimed themselves a ruler of Sith for their Dread Ascendancy. Men and women who wanted to become strong under a unified leader. A Sith'ari. While Vora had been there to question such actions, he took no counter to the man. Why? Warlords are individuals who sought to work for themselves just as much as the whole. For this, the frame of Anger and rage incarnate folded their arms. Barely moving as the vessel came out of hyperspace.

Finally being free of the Hyper-rapture that controlled the man's mind, The hooded man turned to face the others of the bridge. Many freezing where they stood hoping that the man had blind-spot in his vision for still and silent individuals. A few steps forward as the man drew closer to center, His voice broke out with an almost monotone metallic ring.

"Contact the Leviathan Fleet. Inform them that Vora Kaar and his Order have come to observe, and provide aid should it be necessary."

A buzzing of people continued. While a Lethan Twi'lek girl barely clothed or armored walked up to the completely covered Sith Lord. Kneeling in a deep bow before speaking.

"I can feel the Dark side every where. I ask what are we here for?"

A silence befell the Lord. Turning over his left shoulder before looking back into the red hase that was the Typhojem's Storm. The folded arms fell to the side as a very lazy turning to face the apprentice, and daughter.

"Why would we help other Sith if we could take the power for ourselves?"
"I do-"
"Ponder for a moment Tash. Can you or I perform these feats?"
"I cannot... yet."
"Yet. Such a key word in which answers many questions of the Force."
"I believe I have my answer."

A simple nod is what gave way to the lady. As much as Vora was here to aid, and support the Sith, he also came to learn. One can never be finished with learning and improving upon themselves. Believing to be all-knowing, and to be without fault, just as much a Lie, as peace is. Should one feel there is nothing more to learn, the weaker they become through stagnation of their skills. Falsely knowing their power cannot be bested...

Yet.

Darth Vinaze Ashin Cardé Varanin Hideki Satou Ilitherna

 

[Drako]

Location: Reliquary
Tags: Darth Voyance

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Drako stood quietly within the meditation sphere chamber aboard the Reliquary and waited for Darth Voyance to make her appearance. He had never actually seen the Warlord in person though he had been caught up in her (and her compatriot's) schism. To Drako their credo mattered little, for now, compared to the Sith Empire's. He had watched from afar the series of defeats that the venerable Sith Empire had been given by the upstart Imperial Order. In his opinion the Sith Empire had become decrepit and unable to maintain the glory it had once possessed. Drako would not follow an empty throne nor those who strove to claim it after the abdication of Darth Carnifex while it deteriorated.

"Have you heard about the other Warlords?" whispered one acolyte to another who shook her head "They say their almost as strong as Darth Carnifex!" the first earnestly exclaimed under his breath "Doubtful. But even if they were, I thought most of the stuff about the old emperor was propaganda-" the other replied "Have you even been to Bastion?" the male acolyte retorted "No, but you haven't either." Drako spoke up "Your gossiping will get you killed, acolytes, you'd be wise to stop before it causes you harm." both acolytes turned to the Sith Knight and looked as if they were about to challenge the statement as another, larger, Sith of at least Knight rank pushed them aside to stand next to Drako, causing the pair to stumble and fall into other Sith "Don't waste time with the chaff. The Warlords won't spare them a second look. We are proven and we will continue to prove ourselves." the large humanoid female was clad in angular armor that enhanced her stature spoke in a deep voice. Somewhere between Mandalorian armor and Sith battle armor, the equipment was clearly cutting edge "It is as you say." it seemed whoever this person was she was attempting to make an alliance with Drako. An alliance he would accept for now.

 

[Darth Acharon]

Darth Acharon was becoming a man of many coats. He was of the Sith Empire, but had struck out on his own in an effort to discover for himself his full potential, what being a Sith meant to him. That journey had taken him far across the galaxy, from the edges of the Unknown Regions to the lawless realms still undiscovered in the Outer Rim. It had taken him to first the Lords of the Sith, an organization dedicated to bringing about a new age for the Sith, and Acharon had joined them.

Then, he learned of the Warlords of the Sith, a gathering of many different ideologies under the guidance of a single leader, working from the shadows to establish a greater Sith nation in the waning days of the Sith Empire. Their motives were many, the desires of their member far afield in a galaxy of endless potential, but they were united together under a single purpose. Acharon had join them as well. It was through the Warlord of the Sith that Acharon learned of the Order of the Few, a small following of Sith and other Dark Side aligned individuals who sought to pursue an ideology that Acharon himself could devote his mind to.

He had joined them as well, and it was this latest coat he had donned that brought him aboard the Bastard Blade, the personal warship of Vora Kaar , the leader of the Order of the Few. Acharon stood among the others towards the back of the bridge, alike in so many ways to the others all seeking a way to better themselves and become stronger. Unlike the others though, when Vora Kaar turned to look at them, Acharon did not freeze in that cold gaze. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly, taking in the details of the warrior who had brought them here to work alongside the Warlords.

He watched as the Twi'lek woman walked forward, kneeling before the master of the Order of the Few, the Lord of Strength, and beginning an exchange with the man Acharon had come on this journey to study. Of particular interest to Acharon was the ending of their discussion, as the two of them focused on but a single word that held more value than a thousand planets.

Yet.

The Force was one of the few things in the galaxy that the term yet could be applied to almost anything. There were no true limits with the Force, you were just not yet able to master a discipline. There were no impossible abilities and secrets that were unable to be told, just and individual yet to be able to understand the. Nothing was truly impossible when you looked at the Force from the perspective Vora Kaar seemed to hint at, and Acharon made a mental note to follow this up with theories of his own once he returned to Ailara.

For now, he turned his focus back to the void of space beyond the transparisteel windows, and focused on the task at hand.

 

[Jael]

Aboard the Reliquary ​

Among the servants brought aboard the Reliquary for this event was a Lethan Twi'lek who knew nothing of the ins and outs of Sith politics. She knew nothing of power grabs, Lords, Ladies, Masters or Emperors. She simply knew the feral rage of a rabid animal, though in a simmer.

This event was the first time the one dubbed Jael had been permitted to leave the Sith enclave since her freedom from desolation had been granted years before. Where she had once exhibited all the unbridled frenzy of a wild rathtar, she now stood near rigid in her control of self. Her efforts to gain grace were still hindered by the tenseness of muscles that wanted to uncoil their fury. She stood looking out a lower deck observation window, mind and body coiled like a threatened serpent.

"That master will not be pleased if we do not make preparations as intended."

The Lethan did not flinch but remained resolute in her observance of the grand expression of dark power before her. The servant bothering Jael laid a hand on the Lethan's shoulder. "You must assist. Or we will all suffer. You must assist."

Teeth bared. Turning with nails digging in the shoulders of the annoyance. Teeth to face. Rip. To neck. Tear. Push to ground. Rend. Tear with fingers. Dig. Dig. Bathe.​

The Lethan did not move or speak. The muscles in her shoulder had clearly tensed to an unsustainable degree. The servant relinquished her grasp on the shoulder when she sensed the reaction of the red-skinned Twi'lek. "We must..."

"I will stay where I am. I will do what I do," came the measured, controlled words from Jael.

"...we will all suffer."

Lekku twitching, Jael turned her head, eyes cold and lifeless. "You fear the honour of suffering by the hands of the great ones. You disgust me. Leave me or I shall be the one to make you suffer."

The shocked middle-aged woman that Jael now saw looked both scared and angry. "Schutta," she spat before scurrying away in a manner, not unlike her own curse word's namesake.

Rend. Sup. Gnaw.​

With the urge to attack as strong as ever, Jael turned herself back to the small observation window and the display of power that unfurled. She reached out in the Force, connecting to the dark pathways flowing to and fro from the powered and powerful. In the corner of her lips, a smile threatened to form.

| Darth Voyance | Ashin Cardé Varanin | Darth Vinaze | Vora Kaar | Drako | Darth Acharon |​

 

[Caithir Barrick]

Location: The Capital Ship Crimson Bat
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The newest Flagship of the Mala'ari had joined the fleet. As one of the lesser warlords, Caithir had to prove himself and the power of his clan to the other warlords that he was to be fit amongst them. Since the civil war between him and his brother, him and the other clans have found numerous acolytes, knights, and cultists to join his clan. No one was here for pleasantries, Caithir wasn't here to speak of his clan's history. This was a trial, a test, and a show of strength. He would prove himself as an ample Warlord to what will be his allies or be casted out like his father before him. Except he wasn't his father and that wasn't going to happen, his father tried to use the Sith Empire to further his own gain. Caithir was the opposite, he wished to be an ally, to contribute his strength to a greater cause of spreading the power of the Darkside across the galaxy and gaining a little bit of glory while he was at it.

He sat in his command chair, resting in his hand while the bridge crew were looking over the ships systems. With the Sith idly drifting, Caithir exited the bridge to meet his newest recruits. Dawned in body paint and armor, there he was the Demon Prince of Mala in all his glory. A tradition of the Barrick Family and their elite warrior servants, the Barrick Demons. Few of these acolytes would distinguish themselves to be counted as one of those elite warriors and Caithir was excited to test their mettle. When he felt the time was right, Caithir made his way down to the ship's training center with the executive lift.

He found himself to his newest acolytes congregated in columns standing at attention. The minor clan leaders and his advisors standing to the side as the painted man approached the recruits turning stiff as he inspected each of the acolytes, some of them sweating as Caithir walked passed and some tensing. Caithir noticed one female zabrak acolyte almost trembling, Caithir approached her and she started to sweat. "There a problem acolyte?" He asked softy yet stern. "No my lord." she replied without a second thought, she was hiding her fear though Caithir could sense it. If she was smart she'd turn her fear into hatred and she'd live. Caithir returned to the front of the acolytes. He wasn't going to waste his time on speeches he knew better than to waste their time.

<FOLLOW THE DARKNESS>

Shouted Caithir in a pidgin language developed from Basic, Sith, Sy Bisti, and Mando'a. It was a language created by the Mala'ari to distinguish their cultural routes from other Sith enclaves.

<SO WE CONSUME THE LIGHT>

They all replied with resounding confidence. Caithir simply smiled and felt they were all ready, they were going to be made Mala'ari yet. He made his way back to the bridge where he awaited his orders.

 

[Darth Sinestruss]

The large metal slabs that were the doors of the Reliquary’s Meditation Sphere Chamber hissed open as its actuators pulled a part the slabs. From the threshold, the Shadow Hand of Darth Voyance and Arch Assassin of the Warlords, Siqsa Kun, stepped into the Chamber. Clad in black tight-fitted robes that displayed no elaborate seam work so that it almost appeared like a straight black curtain cassock. Her long black hair hung in a similar fashion to her robes – straight, sleeked back and fastened by a chrome circlet that wrapped about her forehead. Her Sith Pure-Blood skin beamed a deep crimson beneath the hollow white lights of the Chamber’s chromatic chandeliers and ensconced luma-panel spires. Siqsa was less known than the Warlords – so the chatter among the Tyrophyte initiates and Sith Knights of the Dark Brood’s Knightly College kept to their haughty levels as she marched through them.​

As she did, she caught the trailing conversations of a group of Tryophytes and two Sith Knights. One a large humanoid female was clad in angular armor and another softer spoken dressed in silver armor of ornate fashion. "Don't waste time with the chaff. The Warlords won't spare them a second look. We are proven and we will continue to prove ourselves," said the larger one, as the silver Knight replied coolly, "It is as you say." Siqsa raised a single brow and stopped in her stride. She turned and approached the two. Perhaps she would probe her fellow Brood. After all she was a Sith Knight too, and a member of the Dark Brood.​

“Sith Code is paramount,” greeted Siqsa, “And the Rule of the Few restrains the path to strength even further.”​

Siqsa stopped a few steps away from the Silver knight having passed her glance from him to the large female humanoid, “But, don’t be so foolish.” Siqsa pointed to the tyrophyte initiates who had been gossiping about the Warlords and the elusive former Sith Emperor. “Even the weak can summon the strength necessary to climb the tenants of the Sith Code. Second looks are not abundant to those who fall behind, indeed,” Siqsa said returning her glance to the silver knight, “It is as you say.” Her eyes shot back to the humanoid, “But, those who lack awareness will also fall behind.”​

She punctuated her little speech with a nod, saying, “You may call me Siqsa. Siqsa Kun.”

Drako ​

 

[Darth Voyance]

Jael
​

Darth Voyance had been passing through the corridors of the Reliquary when she was stopped by a sensation that tickled the back of her mind. Someone, nearby, had been fuming in the Dark Side. Fighting with themselves – between the wilds of anger and the cooling dread of control. Voyance turned a corner to spot a Lethan seething beside a lower deck observation window. The Sith Twi’lek halted in her advancement to the Meditation Sphere Chamber. She slowly turned the corner and crept towards the unknown Twi’lek kin in methodically delayed steps.​

“You wont find the control, or perhaps the freedom, for your rage by growling at middle distance. Sister,” said Darth Voyance, continuing. “I can feel your anger. It burns brighter than some of the pulses of Dark Side that the Storm outside spits into the void.”​

Voyance approached the Lethan, standing beside her and peering out the same window, not looking at her. The Rutian Twi’Lek raised her black and red sleeve clad arms and crossed them at her chest. She felt out in the Force, allowing her consciousness to brush against the fluctuations in the Dark Side that the Lethan emitted. It was nothing intrusive, nothing more than the way the wind caresses a cliff face.​

“Your will is impressive,” Darth Voyance whispered, “Most…impressive.”​

Voyance’s head tilted to the side and her golden eyes rolled to stare at the Lethan, “But, will alone will not save you.”​

 

[Jael]

Cold. And heat. Somehow both washed over Jael, causing her lekku to twitch in an involuntary spasm. A power approached that seemed beyond what she imagined. Before its sway, she felt her resolve to be untenable. For the time she had her wits, and willpower, while they last she would do her best to show her usefulness to the darkness.

“You won't find the control, or perhaps the freedom, for your rage by growling at middle distance. Sister, I can feel your anger. It burns brighter than some of the pulses of Dark Side that the Storm outside spits into the void.”​

Jael's nostrils flared in an odd sensation of pride. She had been berated by many over the course of her moulding. Her sith trainers would never compliment, only criticize, and point out flaws - until she fixed the flaws or killed the instructor.

The Lethan dared not look upon the woman at her side. She felt that all at once her facade would fall and she would become the aimless, mindless creature she had once been and still felt raging within. Her usefulness, she had been taught, was in harnessing this as fuel.

Jael's lips parted, but not a puff of breath came from her lungs. The sensation of the dark side caress sent an uncontrollable shiver through her core.

More. More. MORE.​

“Your will is impressive, most…impressive. But, will alone will not save you.”​

Finally, she managed a small remnant of control to speak but a few words.​

"Salvation is not my wish, my Lord. I wish only to serve."​

| Darth Voyance |​

 

[Vora Kaar]

Aboard the Bastards Blade
Flagship of the Errant Fleet

To see that these fleets, ships crowding upon the aspect of searching for a prime conduit of the force, made Vora look upon them with curiosity. Knowing of such dark magics and sorcery, Vora was not a student of such. Knowing and understanding are two very different aspects. An aspect the Lord of Strength wished to close upon. To further his research in the Dark side of the force, as well as the force as a whole. The utility of this would open many doors for this man. One in which may lead down a path to further the Sith as a whole. Strengthening them in more ways than one.

While Tash rose from her kneeled position and turned around to look at others within the room, her eyes fell upon the other armored individual. Squinting as she had not sensed him there before. Unsure of who he was, or why the man simply stood and observed, she reached down to her saber. As though it were an intimidation tool. Vora's own colliding with her emotions. Attempting to control them before making an embarrassment of him. However, the "child" spoke before Vora could grasp the situation.

"Sneaking and spying is a new thing for the Warlords to be doing among their own!"

An audible sigh came from the black-clad individual. Quickly turning her head to the master, she returned back to man in question while drawing her saber. Moving a step forward. Full intent of bringing this man to his knees. Vora could feel the rampant emotions of such chaos within the woman as he reached out with a hand and held her within her spot. Freezing her mid-step as though she had been hit with a Cryo-stasis weapon.

"Drawing your saber with no evidence of intent? Have I taught you nothing child!?"

A boom of the force erupted from between them. Tash, yanked by her Lekku, howling in pain as she was thrown through the blast doors and down the hall. The grip of the force released from her as she skidded to a halt. Poised on all fours with saber clambering down the rest of the length behind her. Troopers in Red armor walked over towards the woman with weapons armed but not pointed at her. Vora issuing commands to them through the distance.

"Remove her. Acting like a child, and she will receive punishments of a Child."

The doors closed swiftly with Tash giving her father a dirty look. She knew better than to attempt to defy him right now. Last time it happened, she bared pain in ways she didn't understand at the time. A simple shake of the head closed all thoughts of her to Vora. The man isolated with the man who was investigating the Warlords.

"Do not expect an apology on behalf of my apprentice. However, know she will be taught much today."

The deep metallic voice aimed at the man. If anything this embarrassment was being pinned upon the apprentice. She chose these actions despite the teachings given to her from an early age. She wanted to fight and brawl when she instead should investigate such as this other man was doing. Once more turning to face the red haze of nebulaic space, Vora continued.

"Come. What is it that you wish to observe of me?"

Jael Darth Acharon Darth Voyance Darth Sinestruss Caithir Barrick Drako Hideki Satou Ashin Cardé Varanin Darth Vinaze

 

[Drako]

Location: Meditation Chamber, The Reliquary
Tags: Darth Sinestruss

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The imposing figure of the larger Sith peered down at Siqsa as the latter spoke to both Drako and the yet unnamed Sith Knight "I am Drako." he responded in a measured way "The truly weak can never rise above that defining trait. There are no weak Sith." the way Drako spoke hinted towards his belief that many who walked in the trappings of the Sith were not truly Sith, but imitators unworthy of the mantle. Meanwhile the large humanoid spoke in a reverberating tone "I need not be lectured by you. I have fought the Jen'ari on Csilla, the Hutts of Nar Shaddaa, bathed in the desolation of Mandalore - and I will not be treated as an ignorant subordinate." the rage within the veteran warrior was palpable "Unlike most I have killed my way to the top and stamped out those who opposed me. Take heed, Siqsa, I will not be challenged." Drako put an arm out across the stomach of the warrior while the expressionless durasteel mask stared at Siqsa Kun "This is not the place. Your rivalries will have to wait. I doubt the Warlords would appreciate infighting so soon within our movement." Drako turned his head from Siqsa to the other woman "The war is yet to begin. Before long there will be time to right wrongs with allies both new and old." the knight looked now to Siqsa again "Let us stay our rage for those times. Now, may I ask why you have approached me and my acquaintance?"

 

[Maestus]

Striding from the quarters she had been granted for her stay, Maestus moved through halls and corridors. Wearing a black hooded cloak with blood red trim, hood pulled up. Her fingertips dangled from the bell shaped sleeves, black nails against red skin.

From beneath the hood, fiery red eyes stare out and stare down any who dare stop or question her. Few, if any, would. The Dark Side of the Force ran through her veins like hot, flowing lava. On the rare instance anyone spoke to her, she would pause midstep and turn narrowed eyes onto them. Were they someone she knew as an equal or superior, she would stop. Otherwise, they were cast aside, forcefully.

The blast doors opened onto the bridge and Maestus marched through. Her eyes were focused on the viewports up ahead. Her bootheels clicked on the floor as she came to a stop beside Vora Kaar . She nodded once to him, giving him the respect he was due.

My lord. How fares the battle?

 

[Darth Voyance]

[Viewing Deck with Jael ]​

"Salvation is not my wish, my Lord. I wish only to serve," seethed the Lethan Twi'lek.

Darth Voyance's dark blue lips bent into a frown and her eyes narrowed. She shook her head and turned away to continue on her approach to the Meditation Sphere Chamber. She spoke to the Lethan as she walked away, "I don't want your servitude," began Voyance, "I want your Passion and Strength. As the Code demands. Through them we shall attain Victory and in that Victory...attain Freedom." Voyance turned the corner and moved for the lift, "Come. You have much to learn," echoed Voyance's words.​

[Entering Meditation Sphere Chamber]​

The chamber's rumbling chatter died when the Chamber's doors slid open to announce Darth Voyance's entrance. The entire space became as silent as the crypts of Korriban. Only the deep hums of the Reliquary's engines, life support systems, and the hull rattling against the Dark Side storms that raged outside supplied sounds to Voyance's steps. The Rutian Twi'lek strolled causally to center of the chamber and paused. She drew in a deep breath and exhale it though her nose. She raised her hand...and begin the lesson. ​

"Peace is a lie," Voyance said, continuing, "There is only Passion."​

Voyance lowered her hand, it's sharp plummet falling like an executioner's axe to her side.

"All you know is Peace, here, now in this Chamber," Voyance said. "The walls of this chamber, the hulls of the ship, the shielding around it, protects you, lulls you into a Peace known as safety. For years the Sith of this galaxy have been protected, coddled by trappings of inherited power and illusions of authority. Disregarding the lessons of the Sith Code for vain worship of demagogues."

"Well..." Voyance hissed, "You all will not find Peace here." She stepped forward and from the a hidden compartment in the floor before here a hexagonal plate slid away to reveal a narrow shaft. Rising up from the shaft was a tall dark stone pylon in obelisk fashion, adorned with ur-kittat writings - scripts in the Sith Old Tongue. The pylon was of similar make of those that dotted Sepulcher - designed to siphon dark energy from the Dark Side Nexus that spewed destructive Dark Side blasts from its core. Voyance rested her hand on it and activated its powers. The scripts glowed a fiery red as if a furnace burned from within and a black mists began to materialize in wisps of energy.

"The Way of the Sith is the Way of Constant Struggle," Voyance spoke once more, "It is what compels us Sith to temper our Passions into Strength and thus elevate our cultivation of the Sith ways tenant by tenant of the Code. Linger in peaceful ignorance of your powers and you will be rudely shocked to find your strengths decrepit compared to those who have cultivated the way."​

Voyance fingers clenched the pinnacle of the pylon like a beast's claw and the Dark Side spat out from it. The pylon siphoned the energies that exploded in the storm outside and storing in its depths for Voyance to summon. "Your first lesson, is to use your Passions - to survive and attune yourselves to the Storm outside. Balance your passion against its destructive powers. That way you may commune with it...and the beasts we will hunt. For they live in the storm of the Dark Side. They are masters of impressing their will upon the storm and surviving. You all must do the same."

A black bolt of fiery energy ripped out form the pylon. It snapped at Voyance - but Voyance caught it with her open palm ricocheting it away from her and into the crowded Knights assembled. The bolt, redirected, impaled a Knight caught off guard. The bolt burned a hole through the Knight's chest and the destructive Force Blast tossed him into the Chamber's domed walls. Voyance sanguinely looked to the killed Knight then the others.

"Show me what your Passions are capable of, and then I shall show you how they can be turned into a Powerful Weapon," Voyance challenged, unleashing the pylons stored energies in a barrage of black bolts.

Drako Darth Sinestruss ​

 

[Drako]

Location: Meditation Chamber, The Reliquary
Tags: Darth Voyance Jael Darth Sinestruss

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When Darth Voyance entered the chamber and the crowd began to hush, Drako, looked past Darth Sinestruss to the Warlord and withdrew his arm from infront of the other knight. Silently watching Drako had the creeping suspicion that this was, like many mass gatherings, a set up for a trap. What he could not be sure of is how it would happen "The test begins." hissed the large knight as the pylon glowed beneath Darth Voyance 's hand "So it seems." affirmed Drako while putting a hand slowly to the hilt of the archaic protosaber on his hip.

The small group witnessed the inattentive knight being struck by the arcane bolt then flung across the chambers. Drako ignited the protosaber which hummed to life with an amber blade while the large female stood firm then yelled with deafening might with the Force. Her rage and exertion was enough to turn back two bolts of swirling smoke in wildly different directions while flooring several fellow Sith before her. Drako's basic precognitive abilities forewarned him about a lethal blow about to be struck to him from his left side. Raising the blade in a upward diagonal stroke his protosaber's blade batted away the sorcerous cloud, a whine like warming ice emanated from the collision "This was a mistake." Drako admitted "More of the same insanity." he had no appreciation for Sith who played these sort of games.

A bright red blade sprang to life from the hilt of the woman's lightsaber "The time for that has passed! Fight for your survival."

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Hallowed Grave Capital Ship​

Typhojem's Storm ​

The low, abysmal chanting of the masses gathered aboard the Hallowed Grave continued for some time. The energy in the room grew, enough that Vinaze could begin siphoning it from them. Their energy would feed his own ritual, which would in turn would take hold of the beasts. ​

Vinaze could feel the time ripening. The dark side emanated stronger than before from the Dark Saint's ship. She and her "students" must have begun their part of the ritual. He turned to look down upon his own followers. He would hardly call them students. They were tools for the domination of the the sith and the will of the Sith'ari. They had only to perform their duties to their lords. ​

Vinaze had come to realize he too was but a tool in the hands of greater men. There were those meant to serve, and those meant to rule, but no matter where a man rested in the hierarchy of the Sith, the force shall set him free.​

"Sith, the time is upon us. Continue your chants, your prayers. Let those beasts hear your words through the force. Let it be known to them that the will of the Sith'ari is unbreakable, and show the other warlords the power of the Dread Lords of the Sith."

The chanting grew louder and more forceful. Excitement grew among the acolytes and knights. Vinaze turned once again, back to the crimson expanse of the cosmos outside. The Purrgil pod floated gently amidst the ships. They had become accustomed to the Sith presence in their home, corrupted by the natural dark energies of Sepulcher and Typhojem's Storm. In the middle was their King, the gargantuan grey whale, object of desire for the Warlords.

Vinaze began to focus deeply on the king Purrgil. A beast so strong could normally resist and mind-influencing effects of the force, but not today. Not with the combined power of the Warlord Triumvirate and their disciples. With eyes closed, Vinaze made contact with the beast. Its thoughts screamed and roared with hate and anger. Their hate had led to suffering. Vinaze knew better than some that suffering led to the dark side.

He knew that it would not take long to bind these beasts to the will of the Triumvirate once the ritual was fully underway,

Kascalion Giedfield | Darth Voyance

 

[Jael]

It was hard for Jael to know who to believe. Should she follow this one whose dark energies lured her so, or follow the teachings that had tethered her to a usable state of consciousness, away from the raw animal-like existance of her youth? This word - freedom - held no meaning to Jael. Why the dark one valued it so much was something that was beyond her, but it was also a tantilizing lesson that she could not turn down.

"Come. You have much to learn."

Jael followed, a few steps behind Voyance at all times, the Lethan's eyes fixed on the back of the dark one's head as if she were some ghoul that would leap out to devour her at any moment. Every muscle in t Jael's body was taut as she entered the meditation sphere, and joined the ranked member of the Sith religion. If she cared for ranks and titles, she would have felt out of place, instead she slipped right into the group of trained dark side practitioners.

When the bolt of dark energy throw a fully trained knight to the wall, killing him, Jael fell to a crouch with one hand on the ground to aide in pouncing on someone should it be necessary. No one else seemed to flinch, until a declaration of a battle to the death had begun. Jael was unfamiliar with the reasoning behind this, so crawled backwards and returned to her prepared squatting position.

She was prepared to rip throats out with her teeth should this be a matter of survival. For now she would just seethe in the hyper-aware state of mind fuelled by the rage within.

| Darth Voyance | Drako | Darth Sinestruss |​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

THE POMOJEMA - ASHIN'S ITSUTTOI
MOBILE SITH ACADEMY OF HIGHER LEARNING

Farsight wasn't one of Ashin's gifts. As a Sense power, it challenged her even when looking in on such grand events from such close range. But more than one of the Pomojema's instructors had a talent for visions or similar skills. Backed by the strength of others here who lacked those skills, the visionaries shared what they perceived. The Pomojema had no junior students, no acolytes apart from the occasional student's apprentice. Virtually everyone aboard got a sense of what was transpiring aboard the Reliquary.

They watched from afar as Darth Voyance kicked off a lethal, competitive test. Sith were already dying, including people that some aboard the Pomojema knew personally. Anger, fear, and hate filtered between the Pomojema's Darksiders as the situation kept evolving. Ashin caught whispers of evaluation - people speculating about Voyance's Sith magic and other weapons and techniques on display.

This was extremely educational.

​

 

[Ghoul of Moridinae]

The Old Republic Era vessel slipped out of hyperspace, basking into the reality of proper space as large sections of the ship jettisoned out hunks of junk and debris from the deep cuts that settled into it’s form. Sparks of red energy and lightning arching between the cuts on the hull, causing rolling waves of power outages throughout the cruiser. Entire blocks of the vessel shuttering dark before the lights came back to a blaring light. Despite the fact that the vessel was a fully sized cruiser, even with it’s age, a concerning amount of the ship was bathed in darkness.

A skeleton crew, at best.

Far too many eyes stared across the stars from it’s bridge. Though there were hardly any souls to be found in the room. There were flashing panels, attempts to hail him, to get some proper sense of communication out of the unknown vessel entering the training area. General hails from the fleets of ships between one another, introductions and the lot

That was useful for beings who’s names still held some sense of meaning.

He watched, as the Purrgil danced in the void. The Warlords intended to tame them, he understood.

“I believe they are to be turned into warbeasts, my lord.” The officer standing next to the creature spoke, the fear palpable in his voice.

There was no response, as the Ghoul already understood this.

There was no immediate action, nothing immediate to watch and comment on, though the officer kept speaking to fill the space.

“The Warlords have been employing… alternative methods to wage war and secure their position, according to our intelligence reports.”

He had never asked for intelligence reports, he could care less what the meat did to keep itself entertained in it’s worship of him.

“Perhaps there’s something to it, we could host them here. A meeting of sorts.”

He was tired of the man speaking.

He reached over, wrapping a large grip around the officer’s entire upper arm, yanking him closer as to not strain himself with the effort. His other hand raised, bladed claw placed to the bend perfectly.

Before he could complain, fear, or whimper, a flick of the wrist sent the beskar rending through flesh. Then came the screaming, the pouring of blood, the man stepping away from his now severed arm. The Ghoul held it in his grip, turning it over before looking back out to the stars and the Sith Warlord vessels.

“You’re dismissed.” His voice boomed through the room. The officer collapsing steps away from the bridge door.

Snack for later.

The Ghoul brought the arm up to his maw, ripping away a chunk of flesh. Enjoying the show that the Warlords were putting on for him.