Lords of the Sith: Primacy

[Radon Mont]

Someone was moving towards the doors. He could feel it. Leaning away, he cast his gaze around those that gathered outside. It was much too soon, really, for things to have gone the way that he'd expected them to. He hadn't even heard the sounds of fighting from within the chambers behind him. That was odd to him, but who was he to question the methods of the Sith? He was not one of them. In fact, he subscribed to no side of the Force whatsoever and did exactly what he felt like doing, including using both sides of the Force as he saw fit. Truthfully, he no longer believed there were sides to the Force, there were just differences in those that used it. Though he'd chosen to help in usurping the role of Emperor of the Sith, he was not going to be a Sith.

When the doors opened, he turned and swiftly walked within, skirting around the outsides of the room. His bio suit kept him at the right temperature to keep his energy up, and also gave him added strength. Not that he particularly needed it at the moment. Moridin was nowhere to be seen. There was just Ashin and the others. All save for a single Sith Lord that he had never seen before, one which seemed rather obese, who seemed to be issuing a challenge to the new Empress of the Sith. Interesting. Not unexpected, but interesting. He turned his gaze back to Ashin to see how she would respond to this.

 

[Allyson Locke]

@[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

Mikhail was right; the padawan was already suffering the constant battle with the emotions swirling around this bloody planet. Despite her suffering, Spencer stood tall as she closed her eyes feeling his presence behind her. Their interaction was always interesting; it seemed he enjoyed picking her out of a crowd. She didn’t move from where she stood as her eyes opened and trailed up watching Ashin enter to meet her fate. Under her breath she wished the woman luck with the Force, though the Padawan knew that Ashin didn’t need luck nor did she need the Force’s blessing. That was the interesting thing about the Sith, despite the will of the Force they challenged it and constantly changed it.

As much as her instincts were telling her to pull her weapon, she didn’t. He was curious about her, like most of the Sith were. Spencer made sure she remained on high alert though, she was here on a Sith home world – here there was no one to save her. The woman that protected her from the others had gone into face her fate.

“You have a knack for picking me out in a crowd, don’t you Mikhail”

Calmly, Spencer sensed what he was feeling. It was easy since the emotions mimicked what was already on the planet. She had gotten used to the way he felt, the way his emotions flurried to a rage and then subsided as he held it in. He was an interesting Sith.

“It is dangerous, I understand that. From what I’ve learned at the temple this is a place where Sith are born and slain. Must be a bloody sport for the Masters to watch the apprentices kill each other wanting to be the ones that survive; I can feel the lingering feelings – the shame and hate for the living.”

Taking a deep breath she sighed and shrugged.

“Your thoughts are correct; I’m pretty much useless here…though Ashin has been showing me other things as well. For the reason that I’m here – I couldn’t tell you. As you can see Ashin has left me here while she faces the Emperor…left me here to run into you. So why you are here Mikhail are you going to challenge the Empress?”

 

[Ashin Varanin]

But Moridin was, of course, gone.

"My name is Darth Desmius," she said calmly. "I was once known as Darth Ashera. I passed as a Dark Jedi for my own reasons. Rest assured, I have learned from and overthrown Sith Lords. My pedigree matches or exceeds yours, Pillar."

She stood in one convulsive motion.

"And I do not claim the title of Empress, but one far older. I am the Dark Lord of the Sith. Today, in this room, I will fight all comers -- anyone, and everyone, who does not believe that I am fit to rule." She looked around the room, one hand on the arm of the throne. "I'm told that some have claimed me too lenient in my efficiency. Asemir Lor'kora is here; he will tell you that I left rivers of blood across the Unknown Regions. Some may claim, for example, that when I confronted Reyven Samoth for killing a handful of soldiers he deemed unready, that incident renders me unfit for command. In truth, I was evaluating him. Pushing every button I could find, to see what kind of a man he was. To see whether he would respect the authority of this throne, which had been delegated to me, and which I now hold in full. He does not respect the throne and is not fit to sit upon it.

"If he is here, I will face him if he wishes. If not, I expect his obedience.

"I will accept your challenge, Darth Voracitos. But first -- who else will speak?"

 

[Sirella Valkner]

Sirella spoke up, starting with a murmur and then increasing to a chant. She spoke the magic incantations loud echoing through the throne room. Pulses of energy stirred and the necrotic flesh in the carts she brought began to stir. Bones, muscles, sinews, and rotten flesh stumbled from the cart in shambles. Sirella was always a strange creature. She was not only life, but a master of death. "Tsaiwinokka hoyakut," the incantation finished and the dead soldiers moved forward. The perfect blend of alchemy and magic. The smoke demon swayed back and forth around her, eager for a fight. "All who attempt to interfere will have to face me." The dead rose up and formed makeshift ranks along the hall. "the Empress must be allowed to prove her worth."

 

[Garza]

Darren had followed down to the throne room that he had once seen before. Moridin had left the throne to Ashin and had wanted a challenger. Some fat Sith had spoken up and had wanted to become ruler. Darren shook his head and almost laughed. Darren thought about challenging the woman. Even though he was only a knight. He was going to prove his worth here and now. it didnt matter to him if the fat man wanted the throne. If he was to rescue his mother he would take any chance he could get and now was the time. Even if he would become the one thing he had vowed not to be. He would become The pillar if need be.

"If you will not fight him then allow me. I do not wish to kill or defeat you Ashin, but if someone gets in my way for what I will fight them." Darren reached for his lighsabers and only held them in his hands. He wouldnt fight her if it was not necessary. "Ashin If you give me what I want I will back down. you know what I want. With you as the Sith lord You would have the power to do what you want. If you will not give it to me then I will have to fight you."

Darren was not going to let this chance get away from him. He would ether get what he wanted or fight one more time for the thing he needed. lusted after. His mother. he had her face in his mind. having a smile and then it changing to her screaming. He gritted his teeth together. he would not last another day with his mother being kept how she was.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

@[member="Spencer Jacobs"]
Mikhail snorted. "What? Lose and die, win and have a giant target painted on my back? No thanks." He crossed his arms. "I don't care about titles. They get you killed. Funny how that works." He smiled that strange grin, dangerously charming. His words were entirely truthful. To be declared Emperor entailed so many responsibilities, let alone dealing with all the challengers. Shorn had no inclination to become Emperor, or even to rise within the ranks of the Sith. Ambition was not his flaw. He desired power, yes. But only the personal kind. Power he could wield to break his chains. But that will never happen. Even if I got that kind of power it would only put bigger cuffs on me. His mood became flat as he repressed his inner sadness. He knew well if enough that if he ever found what he was looking for it would only enslave him further to the Dark Side, making him a proper monster. Am I not one already?

"As for picking you out in the crowd.... Well, you always seem to be the lone Jedi in a swarm of Sith." Mikhail said cheerily, his tone brushing away what he felt beneath. She was a lone, flickering candle in a sea of darkness. Sputtering. What happens when her light goes out? Ashin was trying to turn her. Of that, Mikhail was convinced. Why else bring such a liability into the very heart of the Empire? Shorn's smile faded, his eyes watching the back of Spencer's blonde head curiously. "Why is that?"

Mikhail became silent as events of great importance transpired within the actual throne room. He did not need to see them. He could hear well enough and the Force told him a great deal more. The room seemed to let out a collective breath as Moridin dissipated into nothingness. Mikhail felt it. He was simply... gone. Shorn's pale eyes regarded the scene, just as enraptured as the rest of the crowd. Ashin, sitting on the throne. Calm and at ease. In control. A rather large fat Sith Master rose to challenge the new Empress. Mikhail raised an eyebrow at that, but made no comment. He turned his attention back to Spencer, his question still unanswered.

 

[Asemir]

Asemir simply nodded as Ashin mentioned his name. Yes, he could certainly attest to her efficiency at death, her skill with the Force and blade. But, he knew from experience that the Sith did not respect attestations; no, they respected action. And so, he also knew that there would be violence. People would die to prove some ideal or strength. The first, it would appear, would be this fat one, Darth Voracitos.

The Forgotten readied his own weapons as he watched the scene unfold, ready to take down anyone who would interfere in the forthcoming duel.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer chuckled as Mikhail mentioned the effect of the title Ashin had just received. She wondered what it would be like to be in charge of so many people and in the Sith have so many people wanting to kill you. Nodding, she agreed with Mikhail about everything and watched him once more. There was something about him and she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Was he drawn to her for some reason?

“I agree titles just bring more harm than they’re worth. As for why I’m here and why I’m in the middle of a group of Sith I can’t honestly tell you. When I had met Ashin it was because she was looking for something. I guess when she found me I was what she was looking for.”

It had crossed Spencer’s mind about Ashin wanting to draw her to the dark side. Although Ashin had never made a pass at completely drawing her into it, which again pushed her to think that Ashin had a sincere desire to teach her. Maybe she was just a fool or maybe she was special. Either way Spencer looked towards Mikhail once more.

“My existence is something I don’t know anything about – but yours you know about right? You have something you’re trying to accomplish…me I was told I could change the galaxy.”

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Pale blue eyes gazed stolidly into eyes of hazel. Shorn's mouth twitched into a somewhat patronizing smirk. The toothless smile and mischievous eyes had a knowing look to them. As if Mikhail knew something Spencer did not. And, in fact, he did. She was so lost. He felt another pang of sadness, but crushed it beneath his heel. Empathy would get him killed. "My existence? Blondie... I haven't got a clue."

He would have liked to think that he had a plan, that he knew why he continued to exist as he did. But... he did not. His plan was to survive. And that was it. Beneath Mikhail Shorn lay so much hate, self-loathing, and loneliness, it was a wonder he didn't throw himself from the nearest window of the citadel. Intermingled within these emotions lay his baser instincts, among them an overpowering selfishness. It prevented Mikhail from doing what part of him longed to do. For even suicide required some measure of bravery. And Mikhail had none. Cowardice consumed him. He would not kill himself, or even resist the Dark Side, because he couldn't. Because.... he didn't want to. And that was why Mikhail Shorn lay so deep within the miasma of the Dark Side. A Sith, indeed.

Shorn felt a familiar presence in the Force. Darren Shaw. He scowled fiercely as he heard the idiot's demands to challenge the Empress. The Dark Jedi had threatened Mikhail on more than one occasion. Had been quite rude about it too. Time to see old debts repaid. He thought he was worthy enough to face the Empress at the height of her power? Shorn had felt their strengths in the Force. He knew the measure of the man. And it didn't reach. No, Mikhail was tired of this man's constant blabber. Unlike Spencer, he was a half-lightsider who was out of control. He did not belong on Dromund Kaas. Mikhail hated the Sith, but that wouldn't stop him from tossing Darren Shaw through a wall.

He glanced back to Spencer. "I have to go take care of something. Don't die," Mikhail said, gruffly, yet sincerely to the Jedi. Coming from Mikhail, the words meant a lot. He didn't usually care who lived or died. But then, this was a highly unusual situation.

Quickly, Mikhail Shorn strode the steps to the throne room. Bold and belligerent, anger and irritation whipping about his aura like a maelstrom, Shorn walked straight into the throne room. He had a reputation for not giving a damn and it held firm as he walked forward without a glance to the side, eyes fixed on Darren Shaw. Mikhail was not easily cowed by displays of power, grandeur, or solemnity. Before him stood the Dark Jedi. On the throne sat Ashin Varanin, but Mikhail didn't afford her a second look. He wasn't doing this for her, or to curry favor. He did it because Darren pissed him off. And he did it... because he could. Here, with all the Sith Masters gathered around, Mikhail did not think he needed to fear intervention. Pale blue eyes glanced to Voracitos, who stood as well, challenging the new Empress. His quarrel was not with him.

"Darren Shaw." Mikhail's voice echoed in the near-silent throne room. Blue-grey eyes stared like twin chips of ice. A venomous smile lay on Mikhail's lips. "You know, normally, I wouldn't give a damn whether you challenged grand Empress Varanin. I don't take sides. Piss me off and I want you dead. " His tone was snide and threatening. He unclipped his curved hilt lightsaber and pointed it, unlit, at Darren. "But you just can't seem to shut up." The crimson blade sprang to life as he thumbed the activation switch, punctuating his remark. "That pisses me off."

 

[Garza]

Darren took a step back from the man who had challenged him. when the blade activated with a pop hisss ant then hummed Darren knew that he couldnt back down from this. Darren smiled at the Sith apprentice. Darren looked at Ashin to see if she would let him battle. With not getting a response Darren turned his attention back at the apprentice. He chuckled. Darren knew that this battle would be a challenge because it was personal. And Darren wanted it that way. He took a few more steps back and ignited his white blades. the points went up to be behind his arms. yet his hands were faced down. Darrens shadow was caste by the bright white blades.

Darren felt anger and hate. But he stopped his mind. He was not a Sith. he would fight for the name of his Jedi. Darren smiled as he faces his foe. "If it pisses you off so much then take the first swing. ill shut up when Im dead." Darren lowered his head and bent his legs. he was ready to move at a instant. He would not let this apprentice take the better of him. if he was to prove that he could save his mother by defeating this cocky man then so be it. Darren felt the force flow within his veins. He could feel his Dark side come up with in him and say to him

"Beat this man to earn your right. your mother." He felt the voice inside of him give him all of its strength. He would use it. Oh yes he would. Darren snarled and growled at him saying "Do not stand in my way." he said with a slight tremble in his voice. from feeling so much anger. "Move aside or I will be the end of you."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Darren. I owe you a debt, and I pay my debts so far as it's within my power. Be content, and take your baggage outside. Mikhail, see if you can beat some sense into my friend."

Ashin continued to look around the room.

 

[Radon Mont]

Radon watched from behind his goggles. He said nothing and did nothing. He did not care for the idiocy on display here. Petty squabbles amongst one another had always been the pitfall of the Sith. He'd seen it first hand during his training amongst them. It only taught him that they were weak and deserved to be crushed for expressing their weakness so openly. One day he would see to it that it happened. When it happened, he would make these people grovel at his feet. He would make them respect him, the ones he let live, and they would serve their role in the galaxy without fighting amongst themselves. Their enemies were outside of the Empire. Surely they weren't all so blind to see. He was slightly angry that Ashin allowed it.

You should not allow such idiocy to continue. His words drifted through the Force to Ashin, not a word spoken, and he wasn't even looking at her. Petty bickering will be the downfall of the Empire. It's stupid and a waste. Killing one another when there are enemies out there trying to defeat us is stupid. Only as he ceased to speak in her mind did he turn his attention over towards the new Empress. Under the circumstances, the whole thing had been less than impressive to him. His new role began now, however, and this fighting needed to stop, even if he had to beat them down himself.

 

[Reyven Samoth]

He sighed and scratched the top of his head, having done a grand job of hiding himself and his presence in the Force until now. But he was very much disappointed with the turn of events. Moridin put up no fight. The fat man was right, neither one of them was worthy of the title if they saw it only as a means to further their own goals. Still, she couldn't help but spout off nonsense. People evidently knew him so well in spite of his lack of existence for quite some time.

"I have respect for the throne. That's where you're confused. You're confusing my lack of respect for you with my lack of respect for the throne. At the same time, I'd say you are the one that has no respect for the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. My guess is you see it as little more than a vehicle to promote your own goals, and not as a sign of perfection. What lies did you feed to your followers to get their support for that claim? I imagine it was unique to each one." He twirled his mask on one finger by the top edge, his head tilted to such an angle that his face still remained hidden in the shadows of his hood. He did not move from his position of leaning against a pillar near the throne.

"I think I smell a Jedi among them. It was hard to differentiate between your stink and theirs, so I wasn't sure at first." He slid down the pillar into a sitting position. "It's pathetic, really. You love this illusion of control and superiority, without having done anything to earn it. You have a band of people to speak of all these great feats with little more than words to support them. I say we see you fight our corpulent associate here. If you're so capable of violence, why not? I'm more than willing to wait my turn. He did call you out first, after all."

With that, his attention was split between keeping his senses open to all in the room in case one of them got a 'good idea' in their skull to attack him. The rest was on the clouds above the Citadel and his ruined temple beneath it, stirring the energies of both in preparation as he meditated.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Mikhail was sure the Sith Masters were whining about how foolish this was. How it served nothing. How it was wasteful. Hypocrites.

They were pathetic, really. They would accuse him of wasteful vengeance, when they just as surely would not hesitate to destroy something that annoyed them, be it wasteful or not. Sith were a hypocritical bunch. And he hated them. He hated them. He hated himself. For how long had he been forced to restrain himself among the Sith, because if he did not the 'not-wasteful' Masters of the Sith would strike him down. He had been forced to obey their commands, here within the Sith Empire. All the while the plotted, and fought, and made Mikhail's life a general paranoid hell as he constantly sought to avoid a saber in the back. He was all alone among the Sith. Alone and trapped. Pure malevolence filled Mikhail as he drank in the cimmerian power of the Dark Side. The rage boiled within him. Pent up for too long. Now.... he would finally let it loose.

The crimson blade hummed eagerly in his hands. His fingers curled around the curved hilt as he held it pointed toward Darren. Ashin's words fell upon his words and he smirked at Darren. Looks like the Empress was on his side. Not that it would've mattered. The Dark Jedi's twin blades were vibrant lances of light. A Jar'kai duelist then. Favoring a flurry of overwhelming attacks, no doubt. Typically wielded by those who attempted Vaapad, but were not skilled enough to create the staccato barrage. It wouldn't matter.

Shorn settled into a Makashi stance. Pale blue eyes bored into Darren Shaw. "I think I'll stay where I am," Mikhail said wryly. He could feel the man's anger. The Dark Jedi longed to strike at him. Shorn would not make the first move. Makashi emphasized economy of motion and control. Although many thought Mikhail's words were reckless, they were, for the most part, pointed barbs. He struck precisely where he thought it would hurt most. And that was why he utilized Makashi. As the duelist's form, Darren would have no easy time of it. Mikhail may have had only the rank of apprentice, but years of prior military experience in the Galactic Republic Army combined with his grueling struggle to survive in the initiate training camp had shaped him into a formidable opponent in a one-on-one fight.

To be sure, Darren Shaw was no weakling. But this was where Mikhail excelled. Here, he was in his element. "Are you going to stand there all day?"

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya's hang moved up to close on the back of the throne as the tension rose in the room. The gluttonous master wanted Ashin to prove her worth as moridin had not given her the opportunity to do so. A fair challenge and one she knew that Ashin would accept before she even spoke, the arrival of Darren Shaw however was unexpected and Anaya could not help but laugh at his challenge. So eager to fight and for what? For the return of his family? He knew nothing about the sith, whomever had taken them would return them but they would be bent and broken beyond all recognition.

She longed to join Mikhail and deal with the idiot, she licked her lips in anticipation of the fight. Reyvan Samoth, however had other plans to draw her attention with the mention of Spencer. Without meaning to Anaya's eyes found the Jedi girls, a flickering beacon in the darkness. Ashin should have left her behind, to bring her here was to risk the girls life. Not that Anaya cared, if the little Jedi dies it made no difference to her, but she had come to the conclusion that Ashin rather liked her.

Anaya began to pace behind the throne here eyes flicking round the room from the stand off between Mikhail and Shorn, to the Gluttonous One, to Lord Samoth and to Ashin. She needed to do something, and it had to be now.

 

[Asemir]

Asemir watched the red-skinned-and-tatooed Twi'lek warily as she paced behind the throne. Passion radiated from that one, impatience and spontaneity. The rest of the Sith masters were predictable, all affronted by some lack of visible challenge or something foolish like that. But this Twi'lek, this Anaya, she bore watching, observation.

He flexed his fingers, and kept her in mind as he scanned the rest of the room.

 

[Carbon]

Dromund Kaas
Orbit

Alarm sirens screamed their song into the hazy air of the Duraanir, while the hull of the ancient Nebula class shook violently with impact after impact. Ashin may have enlisted his help, but his ship was too well known to the Sith for him to arrive unnoticed.

For that matter, transporting any sizable amount of troops to aid her would have required using a vessel of obvious Mandalorian origin.

Smiling as he made his way to the gunships, Emberli clambered aboard the last one - the rest were already streaking towards the palace, finding little in the way of air defense so far. Hopefully they wouldn't.

Mandalore had come prepared; he'd loaded nuclear warheads into the assault concussion missiles his vessel used.

The plan?

Well, as the ship kissed the atmosphere and the hull flared, all missiles were fired upwards and towards the smallest ship in groups of Sith vessels.

No matter what, the EMP of detonation would render most without power and life support. Those that didn't survive would likely wind up going critical and doing damage to nearby ships.

He wasn't sticking around to find out.

The gunship cleared the hangar shield and immediately he felt as though he was going high speed down a gravel road. A countdown appeared on his HUD as his ancient flagship began its slow descent towards crashing into the planet.

2:30.

Two and a half minutes and he'd be joining his men at the palace.

By then, the Nebula would be carving a scar into the face of the planet.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer nodded and prayed under her breath for his safety as well. She felt the change in the force, the dark side had finally found their their new master. It worried Spencer, she wondered about her role that was played. The young jedi did indeed fear for her life, but she trusted both Darren and Ashin to help watch over her. The emotional Twi'lek paced around the throne, a ting of jealousy filled her as she disliked the closeness of her. Spencer stared back at the Twi'lek, never letting her gaze falter.


Her heart raced at the mention of one of the dark masters sensing her. Spencer also felt her hand twitch over her blade. The way he spoke to Ashin bothered her. The man was arrogant and she sensed his power as well. The fear for her life started to become more of a reality. Spencer moved herself closer to the group, her mind fighting off the emotional attacks from the group as well as the planet itself. Her back rested against a pillar as she fought the urge to wince from the pain.


So many challenges, Spencer wondered if this desire for power was worth it.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Samoth...once more you've proven your utter unworthiness to have my attention. I told you once that I wouldn't respect you enough to fight you; I've said today that I would fight all comers. I find myself caught in my own words, and forced to make a choice. The disrespect you showed was comprehensive. You knew I was there as the Emperor's voice, and yet you flouted his authority. The fact remains that you will never respect or obey anyone who sits on this throne if that person is not you. You are a rogue, not a leader.

"Asemir, bring the dog to heel."

The Force shifted in an expected way. Somewhere, up in orbit, Emberli Garrett was fulfilling his promise.

 

[Darth Hauntruss]

[SIZE=medium]@[member="Ashin Varanin"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=medium]“Hiss, hiss, hisss” A sinister snicker dripped from the darkness into the inner-sanctum. A dark taint emerged and it was one that mixed in with the others. From the shadows of one of the great structures that held the throne room, Val’Ryss emerged into view. Her corrupt Dathomiri armor bleed into appearance first and then her dark cloak. Her serpentine snickers continued, from under her hood her golden eyes gripped the new Dark Lord of the Sith. Val’Ryss did not come any closer, but merely paced about the halls, circling the group (of course a powerful barrier was created around the new Lord so Val’Ryss made no attempt to fight it). Her sith eyes then surveyed the others, each glance stirred the ancient spirit that held her being hostage- he was getting excited. The darkness that filled the room made it wake and stretch from its slumber. No doubt the masters would sense it too, a dark and ancient spirit- powerful and thirsty. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=medium]Val’Ryss stopped and returned her golden gaze to the Dark Lord. “So quick to fight…” with that phrase she looked at her fellow Siths- Mikhail and Darth Veracitos, “So quick to betray…” with this she looked at Anaya, but her glare returned once again to the Dark Lord, “…such an arrogant and foolish pack of ramble you have gathered under your wing…..my Dark Lord.” Val’Ryss finished off the last word with a devious growl. She then took some steps forward, the dark monster that lurked within grew more animated and violent- the force was being ripped asunder by its maddening thirst. “This one has the humble privilege of being named Val’Ryss Zankarr, my Lord…And my master wishes to speak to you.” Her voice suddenly at the end of her sentence turned dark and low, one that was unnatural to her being. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=medium]Immediately Val’Ryss began to shake and shudder until she stopped and slumped. A dark voice howled from her lips. She raised her head to reveal her eyes had gone pitch black- no pupils, no light, only darkness. The dark voice spoke as she spoke, “I shall interpret his words for you my Lord.” As she spoke in basic to the Lord, echoing hers were words no one could understand- chaotic, harsh and vowels oppressed into shrieks. Val’Ryss spoke as he did, “How, interesting to meet you….what was it again? ….”Dark Lord of the Sith”…” the title was uttered in a cynical laugh, “…Your ambition amuses this one, in fact you have gratefully sent me enough dark taint to sustain my existence within this weak being. I shall lend my strength to yours, but under one condition.” Val’Ryss’ voice ended and so did the dark one. A dark hiss followed as Val’Ryss took in a breath to stop before starting again, “A world. Far from this one, deep in the unknown regions- dark and ancient- I seek it, I crave it- a dark treasure more powerful than us all. But, to unlock it I need…ingredients…sacrifices…but no objects or random fools. I need….Sith…POWERFUL SITH.” The dark voice bellowed. The dark voice then shrieked out of existence and Val’Ryss returned from her trance. [/SIZE]