Lords of the Sith: Primacy

[Ashin Varanin]

@[member="Sirella Valkner"] @[member="Anaya Fen"] @[member="Spencer Jacobs"] @[member="Ryori Za'tire"] @[member="Darren Shaw"] @[member="Emberli Garett"] @[member="Tirdarius"] @[member="Darth Moridin"] @[member="Asemir Lor'kora"] @[member="Radon Mont"]

DROMUND KAAS

Ashin wore no armor -- nothing but a sleeveless shirt and durable trousers. She would allow her detractors to make no excuses for her coming success, if success it was. She had no illusions: Darth Moridin would be on part with the most deadly Dark Lords she had faced in the Unknown Regions -- Kishkumen, Velok, and others. The highest Lords of the Cult of Shadow.

Higher. This would be like fighting Sivter.

She rolled her neck and cracked her knuckles, then ascended the steps. Behind her, her supporters should be gathering, the better to keep others from interfering as she made her way toward Darth Moridin's sanctum. The lightsabre at her belt was subtly curved, relic of old Jedi Masters -- her grandfather Je'gan Olra'en, and her friend, enemy and rival Darron Wraith.

She would make no apologies for who she was. She would make no apologies for anything, nor justifications. She had been a Sith Lord before, and the time had come to stop hiding under the guise of a Dark Jedi. Sith Magic crackled around her fingers as she ascended the steps. She resisted the urge to turn and look at her supporters, to see how many had followed through with her summons. There would be others -- bystanders, or those looking to oppose her. She expected that. Tirdarius, Sanctis, Apparatus, Silencia, Voracitos, more. Such challenges had a way of bringing Dark Masters out of the woodwork. Most she knew as inferiors, some as equals.

She had no idea how this day would end.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer had listened to the summon, the girl was loyal and obedient to the Dark Master. When her feet touched the ground of the Sith planet her mind flared with the lingering and thick emotions of the dark side. The empath had been warned and yet she still arrived. Spencer wondered what her use would be today, what was her place in this coup.

Hazel eyes looked up towards the woman that didnt claim her as an apprentice. In Spencer's mind she had the freedom to be here and learn. The accomplishments she achieved were far beyond anything a padawan or even a Sith apprentice had done. Pride filled her and she wished her teachers expressed the same.

Looking over the Master, Spencer couldn't recall a time she had seen Ashin like this. A tender blush colored her teenage cheeks as she admired everything about the woman. It was a good thing she was the only empath around or so she had hoped. Spencer didnt call out to her, bust she focused on trying to keep calm.

She was in a place no padawan should be.

 

[Asemir]

He watched her ascend the steps, slowly but with purpose. The Force crackled around her, unseen in the visual spectrum but clear as day to anyone who “saw” in the spiritual world. Ashin was harnessing her energies, calling upon her reserves, in preparation for a confrontation that, in her words, would be like fighting Sivter face to face.

That said something. He had fought Sivter, and would have fought him to a draw or perhaps a win, had the Dark Lord not exploited a glitch in his armor. And if Ashin compared this Darth Moridin to Sivter, then he was going to approach the mission with all due caution.

He watched her ascend, but now he did not watch her with his eyes. He merely kept track with that portion of his mind that had been trained since before birth to keep track of battlefield conditions. Now he scanned the environment visually, noting the other Dark Masters who had come to watch this challenge. They were his objective, his responsibility. He was here to make sure that none of these backstabbing, honorless creatures interfered with Ashin’s call. It was a duty he was more than confident that he could pull off. After all, none of these could claim the power of Arksis Nan and Sivter, and he had bested one, and nearly both.

He tightened his grip on the pistol grip of his carbine. An archaic weapon, the rifle was an ancient slugthrower, not a blaster-based weapon of more recent vintage. Against Force users, he had found that the erratic and unpredictable fire pattern of such weapons were super effective, the rounds’ hypervelocity nearly impossible to dodge and deflect. For crowd control purposes, he had mated an under slung grenade launcher to his weapon, one he had armed with simple white phosphorous. Cruel and inhumane to use phosphorous on organic beings, but his objective was efficiency, not humanity.

But his rifle was secondary to his songblade, a weapon forged millennia ago, and as deadly as any lightsaber. The weapon was sheathed in its scabbard, attached to the hardpoints at his back, but it was within easy reach. He suspected its cerulean cutting edge would be tasting blood soon enough.

Asemir Lor’kora watched Ashin Varanin ascend the steps towards her destiny. He watched her not with his eyes or the Force, but simply with his mind, confident of where she was and where she would go.

Asemir Lor’kora watched the gathered Dark Masters and lesser beings, watched them with his eyes and the Force. He was confident where they would go, and it would not be the same path as Ashin Varanin.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Lightning crackled in the clouded skies above Dromund Kaas. The flashes illuminated the citadel below, its tall spires piercing the skies. Rain poured forth, drenching Kaas City's glass and metal structures. The mucronate buildings of the citadel were built partially upon water. Lights shone dimly about the city. Many of them were red, giving it an evil hue. A monolithic structure rose in the center of it all. The palace. Behind one of its many window panes, a man stared out. The glass was slick with water, affording him an ill view. But those pale blue eyes searched all the same. A great disturbance was gathering the Force. All within the citadel could sense it, if they had half an ounce of sensitivity in the Force.

The Dark Side permeated the very essence of Dromund Kaas. A dark cloud, as ever present and unrelenting as the planet-wide thunderstorm overhead, whose existence itself was due to the experimentations of a long dead Sith Lord. This darkness raged within Mikhail Shorn as he stared through the glass. It raged through all the Sith on Kaas. Mikhail thought that was why the Ysalamiri creatures had developed their Force nullification abilities. To escape that darkness. Force knew he wished he could. But it was just a much a part of him now as the planet's thunderstorms. A flash of lightning illuminated his features. Tousled hair and dark stubble contrasted with his pale, fine features. He looked haggard. The fight for sanity was wearing on him. How could one keep a soul in such a place as this? He felt his morality, what little was left of it, eroding bit by bit beneath the struggle for survival amongst the Sith.

Although the power of the Dark Side seemed omnipresent, Mikhail could still sense the beings who soaked up its strength within themselves. They were scattered about the citadel in droves. Like insects. Many of them were mere flickers in the Force. Some shone darkly, their power like stygian flames. A great many of these flames had landed in Kaas city. This was the disturbance Mikhail had felt. He turned heel on the rain-soaked panes and headed deeper into the citadel. He felt a familiar presence. Ashin Varanin. Why had she come to Dromund Kaas? In the company of such other powerful beings, unfamiliar to Mikhail.

The pale eyed Sith trailed them. He was not altogether surprised at where they ended up. The atrium to the throne room itself was imposing. From the shadows, Mikhail watched as Ashin, wearing no armor, assailed the steps to Darth Moridin's throne room. Mikhail's glance went between her and those who stood back, waiting. They seemed expectant. Shorn's eyes glittered. Was this as he thought? A challenge? No wonder he felt so many powerful presences. There were a great number of immensely strong beings gathered in the room. Did Mikhail truly wish to stay in the same room as such power? A smile crossed his features. Of course he did. He lived for danger... and death. And darkness.

Upon his belt hung the curved hilt of his lightsaber. A pistol hung on his thigh. Other than that he wore only his usual leather jacket and dark pants. He watched, his own eyes now expectant as well. A familiar figure stood amongst those gathered in the atrium. A frown crossed his face. She was very out of place here. But then, she would most likely be out of place anywhere. Mikhail made his way silently toward @[member="Spencer Jacobs"] until he stood just behind her.

"Very dangerous to come here, blondie," Mikhail said quietly. His voice a shade above a whisper. Perhaps for me as well. The normally witty Mikhail had no quips on this night. Death hung in the air. Death and power. "Why did Ashin bring you?" Mikhail asked, more to himself than the girl. Pale eyes narrowed in thought, before widening with sudden comprehension. No, that could not be Varanin's intent. There were too many Sith. Too much hatred and anger. Even Spencer, despite the abilities he'd witnessed, could not calm them all. It would be impossible. Anger filled Mikhail. Anger at Ashin for bringing Jacobs here. He stopped himself. Why should he care whether the Padawan lived or died? Shorn became silent, lost in his own reverie as all seemed to hold their breath in expectation of what was to come.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Moridin Dreadlord of Byss and Emperor of the New Sith Empire sat upon his throne. He wore his traditional tribal robes, those that Kiffar elders would wear during most meetings. His hair was tied back, linking to a single strand as though he was preparing for combat. On his face was the slightest smirk as if he knew something that nobody else did. Besides him against the throne ay his massive Crescent Sith sword. His hands however remained away from the blade, and instead rested on the arms of his throne.

The Emperor tapped the arm rests with his fingers, as if he were playing a piano. His smirk widened as the tapping of his fingers quickened. To anyone watching it might appear that he was a madman, though that was the furthest thing from the truth. The Emperor stopped all of a sudden as something within the force shifted. It was difficult not to notice, even on Dromund Kaas.

Massive arrays of darkside energies plucked into his Citadel. A dozen Sith Masters, perhaps more. Moridin felt them move closer and closer, ascending the steps to his throne room. One in particular stood out, one he had become quite familiar with over these past few months. His smirk widened more and more, and the tapping of his fingers continued.

In his head he heard a symphony, a beautiful composition of war and power. The Emperor's smirk grew wider and wider, knowing what was to come. He seemed to be pleased with himself, and as his song came to a finish he flourished his hands slightly. Smiling, the Dreadlord moved his hands to the end of the armrests, and then pressed two buttons in quick conjunction.

Moridin looked to the doorway across from himself, and slowly the doors opened themselves, unsealing locks and welcoming those who came to face the Emperor.

 

[Darth Hauntruss]

[Dormund Kass, Santcum structures]

High above the sanctum structure upon one of the many towers that surrounded the complex, Val’Ryss stood watching the party of challengers approach the sanctum. Dressed her corrupt armor and her dark cloak covering her body she gazed at the leader of this pack with curious eyes. Golden passions burned within the orbs. She was not the only one watching. The dark spirit that called her mind home called out to her it hissed and howled at her consciousness. Val’Ryss nodded and spoke openly to it, her words dripping from her lips, “Indeed she is. But, what of the Emperor? The Emperor has done much for this one” The spirit stirred and spoke again. “This one has no objection to such a command, but what of the guards?” Val’Ryss replied to no one.

The darkness replied with a growl. Val’Ryss bowed dropping her head and replied, “As you wish my master.” Val’Ryss raised her head and turned away from the view moving to descend from the dark tower. She would not interfere, not yet. The time was not right and per instructions of her true master, the dark spirit that possessed her, she made her way to the inner sanctum building. Shadowing the corners of the building and drifting through the halls, her dark cloak dancing behind her, Val’Ryss came to the same level as the challenger. Stopping she took in a deep breath. Closing her eyes she let the environment grab hold of her and feed her information. “Mmm. Another dark candle, one that proves more taint than the last.” She hissed quietly.


@[member="Ashin Varanin"]

Lowering her head and continuing on her path Val’Ryss emerged from one of the great columns that held the inner-sanctum up and provided the area with a temple like facade. Her figure melted into view from behind the column and she made sure she would be noticeable to the challenger. The darkness of the Sith force poured from her every being and with it a message slithered onto the floor and crawled its way to the challenger. The dark message, like a passing wind, whispered dark nothings into the challenger’s ears.

“This one hopes you prove every bit as fascinating as my master has put faith in describing so. Do not disappoint my master…” Val’Ryss’ serpentine voice hissed, “For now we shall watch from the shadows. May the darkness judge you worthy of victory….challenger.” With that Val’Ryss turned and faded into the darkness. There she would wait, mold with the environment become miniscule compared to the gathered power before- and then when the time allowed it she would emerge.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

@[member="Val'Ryss Zankarr"]

As the snake-like voice came out of nowhere, Ashin's forward march didn't so much as pause. This was a place of mysteries, and she held a few herself. Sith Magic, the power to twist the fabric of reality, was hers to command -- she understood that the unexpected could come out of nowhere, at any time. She nodded fractionally at Val'Ryss's words. This was the attitude she expected from the majority of the Empire: Obedience to whoever held the throne.

Huge doors opened before her, and she ascended another set of steps into the gigantic throne room. Others stood on the fringes, watching, and Darth Moridin sat on his throne.

The stage was set.

"Darth Moridin," she said, in a quiet voice that somehow filled the huge chamber, "I'm here to kill you. That throne is mine. I claim it as the student of Sith Lords who I defeated. I claim it as a conqueror, an expander of the territory of the Empire. I claim it as the strongest, the best, the most willing to use power in the most intelligent ways. And, of course, I claim your throne as the woman who is about to tear you from it."

A sky-blue blade flared to life, the exact hue of Exar Kun's lightsabre.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Moridin watched as a multitude of Sith wandered into his throne room lead by Ashin. When he saw the woman his smirk widened more, he looked to be genuinely pleased by this development, as if it were exactly what he wanted. The Emperor looked at Ashin, and then the other Sith Masters around the room. He recognized a few of them, some he knew by name and others by his informants. There were also a few knights, and several apprentices.

It was interesting to him that Ashin would bring all these people, perhaps it was to keep from others interfering. The Dreadlord peered at them all, and then finally settled his gaze on Ashin at the head of them all. With a smile he once again began to tap on the arm rest with his left hand, then he used his right and gently placed it on the hilt of his Sith sword next to him, a precaution in case she chose to attack before he had time to talk.

“Really? This throne is already yours? Interesting.” Moridin said in a very mocking manner. The Dreadlord seemed entirely amused by the situation, as if he wasn't taking this at all seriously. “Last I checked. I was the one up here, and you down there.”

What Ashin couldn't know, and what none of the rest of them couldn't know was that Moridin had absolutely no intention of fighting any of them at all. He didn't need to, and perhaps more importantly he didn't want to. He had killed the Jedi grandmaster weeks earlier, sparked wars, slaughtered hundreds of powerful Sith, and achieved a dozen other goals. Moridin was finished with the title of Emperor, there was no reason to hang on to it anymore.

Still, he had a face to maintain. Slowly the Dreadlord stood from his throne, as he did so his hand wound tightly around the blade of his Sith Sword. A massive wave of power began to rush from him, a torrent of the darkside that flooded the room like a tsunami. The very air around the Dark lord began to sizzle, hiss and snap as it was warped and torn apart by Moridin's sheer will.

“Leave us.” Moridin said, his voice sounding as if it were death itself. His command was a general one, issued to those Sith present that supported him, Ashin, and anything in between. They could choose not to obey of course, but in a duel for a title of Emperor...that would be unwise.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya ascended the steps behind Ashin, silent and watchful. Where Ashin's eyes were fixed to the goal ahead of her, Anaya's flicked across the faces of those that had come to witness the fight and perhaps intervene for their own good. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Ashin's supporters were gathering to prevent just that. Anaya kept her fear in check, there was no room for her to loose control today, none.

But her fear was there, deep beneath the layer of nothing she had enveloped around her. Fear for her life. She was betraying Moridin if Ashin failed, she would suffer and perhaps even die for such a back hand betrayal. But more than that, she feared for Ashin. She had come to like the Dark Jedi, the way she thought they way she carried herself and conducted her plans. She was smart and she was one of the very few Anaya believed she could trust and perhaps, even consider a friend. She would not however, tell Ashin this to her face, not in this life or the next.

As they entered the throne room and Ashin gave her speech, Anaya drew on her own strength, watching as those the were in the room were commanded to leave, that command rocked her and for a moment she almost turned to go with them.
you will be the only one to bear witness of my duel with Moridin.

Turning, she glanced at the supporters outside before pulling the doors shut with the force. This was not there's to bear witness to, there's was to stop and intrusion. Turning her back to the doors she clasped her hands behind her back and waited.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The room cleared, more or less. There would always be a few who preferred to stay and witness such things.

"I've asked Anaya to stay and bear witness," said Ashin as the doors shut. Lightsabre in hand, she approached the throne. The cloud of distortion that filled the room had no traction on her, and on the small space around her. That was not to say that the dead zone was confined; she simply chose not to waste energy. Her aura of dead cold created absolute stillness immediately around her.

"You seem undisturbed, Moridin. I can only assume one of three things. Either you have an escape route, you're confident in your own success, or you have surprises. Traps, even. Perhaps all three are true."

 

[Sirella Valkner]

Sirella followed Ashin into the throne room. Behind her two groups of enthralled guards pulled sleds filled with the recent dead. They were stacked up as humans may stack wood. The irony wasn't lost on Sirella. As meat uses plants, so to will she use meat to suit her purposes. Without any words being bandied she threw her seeds littering them across the room and surrounding her. She would need protectors if she were to use her spells to their fullest ability. Ashin and the Emperor exchanged a few words, but she instead started muttering to herself. Words have power, and the ancient dialect of the Sith sorcerers held the darkest power in the galaxy. It was the priest class who weaved the great magics of the old empire, it was under their direction that the great moments were built withstanding all time, and it was with their guidance that kings ruled. The words echoed softly with power as she spoke and smoke and shadow started to form just to the woman's side as she concentrated the air and power around her. "Dwomutsiqsa," the incantaion finished. The great Dreambeast was awoken.

The whirls of smoke moved as a whisp forming shape of a great demon described in tomes of old. The creature lumbered under Sirella's influence with simple commands, defend its mistress and slay those who oppose her.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Moridin smiled at Ashin, and then looked over to Anaya. She was his former apprentice, and oh how she had grown. He couldn't help but feel a sense of...pride when looking at her. There was no anger in him towards her, she was doing what every Sith eventually did, and The Emperor was glad of it. He smirked at her, and then winked slightly. Turning his attention back to Ashin he smiled again at the more powerful of the two women. She was just as confident as he was, if not a tiny bit more. As she made her guesses Moridin suddenly ceased the force aura that had grown around him.

The air seemed to collapse and fall in on itself and almost instantly it became a lot easier to breath. The Emperor simply grinned, and then spoke again, his voice like a serpent. “Let's go with all three.”

He let out a slight chuckle, although why no one could really say.

“I have no intention of fighting you Ashin. In fact I have no intention of fighting anyone for this throne.” Moridin said the last bit as he looked slightly over his shoulder and back towards the dais where the Emperor's Throne sat. The thing had always been entirely uncomfortable. The Dreadlord let the tip of his Crescent blade rest against the floor. “You see. I don't want to be Emperor, nor have I ever wanted to be.”

That was only partially true, he had needed the title for a short time to establish several of his plots. Now that that had been completed he no longer wanted the title, it was all really as simple as that. “Everything I have ever done as Emperor. My laws, my actions, even bringing you into the fold. It was all to bring us here.”

“Truthfully I had assumed it would be someone else, I had expected Kaine to try first.” Moridin peered of at Anaya knowingly and then turned back to Ashin. “...but I suppose that you will do.”

 

[Radon Mont]

Radon watched with calm. His reason for being here was simple: stop all from entering and interfering. His second reason, gauge the success of the woman who would take the throne. Thirdly, gauge potential for usurping the throne from the woman in the future. The latter of which he kept largely to himself as he watched the woman move up and into the building. He, wearing his bio-suit, stood watching and waiting. On his hip was his lightsaber, a dual crystal design built for precision and power, much like the weapons of ancient Sith. He said nothing and paid very little mind to the others. The girl was being accosted by a Sith whelp, but he didn't care. It wasn't his job to defend her. The only command he'd been given in regards to her was not talk down to her. That was simple enough to do if he didn't talk to her.

Others were coming. He walked up to the recently closed door, turned, and leaned his back against it. Arms crossed over his chest. Not a lick of his face was visible to anyone, and most of these people had no idea who they were dealing with. His goggles scanned those around, but none were making a move to interfere. The minute one dead, he was certain that all hell would break loose. The woman, the plant Sith, could use her pheromones to control others as he could. Ashin had built a good force to back to her. Radon waited, expecting a fight to break out without, just as it would within.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Ashin blinked, but that was the extent of her visible surprise. Conclusions and possibilities raced through her skull.

"I won't bother asking your motives. I can only imagine your plans are fairly grandiose, that you would use the throne as a stepping stone. The problem, of course, is that I will have a terrible time claiming supremacy over this rabble without a very visible fight. I'm certain Reyven or some other fool will oblige. Perhaps Apparatus will, too. Or Tirdarius. Or Sirella, my old Master. I suppose we will see.

"Also, consider yourself the first to know my new name. I am Darth Desmius, She Who Binds. My Masters devoured, absorbed, and bound spirits, as do I. I sense similar energies around you, so I think you understand."

She walked around him, instincts alive, precognition at full blast, and sat down on the throne.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya smiled despite herself at Moridin's wink, and found herself averting her eyes for a moment before recovering herself and returning her eyes to the two of them. Her shock, not quite as well covered as Ashin's at his step down she took a step forward her hands faslling to her side.

That...wasn't right. It made no sense to Anaya, there had to be more. A trick, a trap something and emperor didn't just give up the throne. She snorted at his reference to Kaine and his look towards her, shaking her head. Fro Kaine to attempt to take it would have been a waste of life, he was not strong enough, even if Moridin had bowed out as he was doing now Kaine wouldn't have held it for long.

She took another step forward, catching herself and stopping her from going any further. Anaya drew in a sharp breath and held it as Ashin settled onto the throne.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

The now former Emperor grinned a sly grin as Ashin accepted what he had just told her. She had been manipulated slightly by him and yet she didn't care. She had her goal and it was seemingly enough for her. The Dreadlord relaxed slightly and then spun his Sith Sword, he sheathed the blade and then turned to Ashin on the throne. He smiled at her, as if all the care in the world was gone from him.

As soon as she mentioned the binding of spirits he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. Yes Moridin knew his path around the binding of spirits, though the ones within him were not of any Sith lords. Moridin held within him the essence of eighteen billion people, the former residents of Byss before the four hundred year darkness. He grinned, as he looked at her.

“Well Empress Desmius, you better get your subjects in line.” Moridin said it with a smirk on his face, very clearly he was telling her that all this was now entirely her problem and not his. He had no idea if she would try to kill him still, but honestly he didn't care. For now she wouldn't be able to touch him.

An aura began to appear around Moridin again, black tendrils seeped through his skin and popped out from beneath joints. They began to flail and wrap around him, biting and eating at him, constricting his body. The Dreadlord didn't seem to be bothered by this, and instead just spoke some final words to Ashin and Anaya. “Best of luck to you.”

It sounded like a taunt, though one couldn't really tell. The tentacles grabbed at his flesh, and then tore Moridin into a thousand pieces. Within a second he was gone.

 

[Asemir]

Asemir had stayed in the room, ignoring the Emperor's command. He wasn't assisting him, after all. He watched the exchange of words, listening intently but also observing the surroundings, ready for any surprise. And when that surprise hit, it wasn't what he had expected. (Well, quite obviously, Asemir would reflect later. The whole point of a surprise was that it was unexpected.) The Emperor dissolved in a whirl of black Force magicks. And that was... odd to say the least.

The Emperor was gone. Asemir stepped up. "Orders?" he asked the Empress Desmius.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Open the doors. Now the fun begins."

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya smiled at his departure and shook her head as she moved across the throne room to stand next to it as Ashin "I doubt that will be the last time we see him." she mused. Moridin worked in strange ways and in her own way, she was a little disappointed he was leaving, she could have learnt more from him.
Still, now was not the time to ponder. The day was not over and as the Dark Lady Desmius gave her command Anaya's hand reach forward and she pulled the doors open with the force, allowing the chaos to enter.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Lorrd- Capital of District 3
Sometime earlier

Deep within the chambers of an almost tomb like palace, there was a presence upon the world as heavy in the force as the weight of the planet itself. This thing, had been... away from the activity of the Empire for some time; locked away within some of the greatest stores of knowledge available to the galaxy and the Empire. A library world... how appropriate for the sulking, redundant power of the Pillar of Knowledge. Within the vicinity of the palace, a dark storm brewed, that had been brewing for some weeks, perhaps even months now. With the rise of the new Emperor Moridin, the power, or at least what was perceived as his power, had been nearly all but diminished. It didn't upset the thing so much at first. He had expected it when he had been first confronted with the issue from Moridin. He knew that he never thought he was anything of an equal to him, and to be honest, the thing was jealous. Though the true origin of its jealousy did not lie in the simple ways one might expect, as it did not rely on the fact that the Emperor now had more power than him, more people that bowed down to him, more loyalty than any one could buy, or the enormous income that the Emperor honestly didn't need, being the Emperor but received nonetheless.

No, none of these sprouted jealousy within the massive Pillar. This pure manifestation of hunger, of thirst, of greed and all things gluttony, Darth Voracitos was jealous for another reason entirely, that no matter how well the Sith Master could plan, all those things the Emperor received could not be taken from him immediately. His jealousy fell in that Voracitos had no power comparatively, to take on the Throne. Though despite this, he was content on keeping him where he was. The Sith didn't like change, despite his involvement with ascending Moridin. Because of Moridin, he had made Jonathon Boke a happy man, with riches more to be added to his own personal treasury. Many would not understand this Gluttonous creature, as he stored and kept things not out of value but out of the fact that in his clutches it was his. Thus, in his mind, the Emperor was his Emperor.

While the obsolete creature sat there upon his throne, indifferent to the mounds of gold and money around him, the luxuries of his life all piled into a single mansion, filling every room, nook and cranny; the sneering almost displeased face of the Darth twitch slightly. Something... was not... correct. It was upon Dromund Kaas, the Imperial Capital of which the source of the disturbance erupted though... not yet. More than the storm above his palace was brewing. The security of his possession was broken, cut off, obliterated. The slightly annoyed face, of pale, sickly complexion, framing the dull yellow eyes of the enormously obese man; changed to a brightened flame of a very rare rage within the fat man. He immediately left his Throne to defend a different one, one that would not be taken until some time later.

Dromund Kaas- Seat of the Empire
Now

“I have no intention of fighting you Ashin. In fact I have no intention of fighting anyone for this throne.”

Darth Voracitos, from an unknown distance within the shadow scowled at the Sith he had come to entrust the Empire in, as he was betrayed out right. He didn't know this Ashin, nor did he care who she was, but he did not care for change and already he had helped with the rise of this Empire he would not allow an unknown variable muck it all up. The Sith code stated there would be no peace, but Ashin was Chaos, and Chaos was directly against the passion and ambition of this Dark Lord, at least not here, not now.

“You see. I don't want to be Emperor, nor have I ever wanted to be.”

Again he growled, and as the others left the Sith stayed behind, not to watch but to make himself known, that he did in fact, exist.

“Well Empress Desmius, you better get your subjects in line.”

There was a pause of anger and shock as his Emperor of Profit simply... gave up. Handed the title over, mocked him completely, and utterly. The Throne to the Empire had never been so blatantly... abused. It was absurd, and he would have nothing of it.

"How dare you, Moridin? You so bloodlessly hand over the title of the greatest prestige, of one who is not even Sith? She claims the title of 'Darth' and 'Empress' so blatantly. I care not who claims to have given these such things to you, they are as false as the late Emperor Moridin. For some time I had stowed myself away, observing the Empire, observing the War, our progress, and now you come here and destroy all of that! You are a mockery to the title of Emperor, both of you! I am the Lord of Gluttony! I do not take things for them to be stolen by another! You Moridin, whether you believe it or not, were one of my possessions and now you have replaced yourself to this absurd notion for a ruler.'Emperess Desmius'" He said mockingly, "I challenge you to a duel, to see for myself if this usurper is anything to be called, Empress!" He spat. He spoke as if Moridin was there, even if he was not. He most likely knew his speech long before it was spoken. He shouted his anger to the empty air, directed at the one who sat upon the Throne.

It was a delay speech from the darkness, while the others continued in speech. He spoke as the rest of the crowd began to pour in.