Private Loyalty Reaps Rewards

[Darth Tennacus]

Location: Exegol, Throne of the Sith
Mentions: Darth Solipsis

Loyalty was as important as it was dangerous. One may be willing to die under the concept of loyalty, or one may die from being blinded by it. Sometimes, the risk was worth the cause. It had always been that way for the Sith, right back to the lineage of Bane. The only difference was that they knew the risk and willed themselves to serve it, nonetheless. A Master may take on an Apprentice; an Apprentice may usurp the Master. Fundamental aspects, many believed, from which the Sith bloomed into an unforgettable shadow which stretched the Galaxy. That the Light may at times brighten is foreseeable. But as long as the Sith's loyalty to their cause remains unchanged, their shadow would shall never waiver.

And so it appeared such loyalty was noticed.

Darth Tennacus came before the great rising Throne of the Sith calmly. He quickly fell into its shadow, his long grey coat buttoned, and its hue inevitably swallowed into the dark. But the Dark Lord of the Sith who reigned above him held an aura ever darker. The Dark Side of the Force embraced him powerfully, but as much was to be expected in the presence of the Maw's crown. Tennacus descended upon a knee, bowing his head in silence, save for what breaths escaped with mechanical emphasis through the filters of his respirator. Once his gesture of loyalty had been initiated, the Sith rose his head but remained knelt. There was a brief pause of which they both stared, until at last the Sith said,

"My Lord."

 

[Darth Solipsis]

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DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
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The Dark Lord of the Sith rested his arms against the smooth Zeffo architecture, the crimson luminescence of the Sith dagger emblem shone brightly from above as too did the Sith runes engraved in the old tongue of ur-Kittât. A sinister hum ever so faintly rang from deep within the Throne of the Sith, it bustled with power
a true conduit to the Dark Side of the Force that saturated the throne room in a miasma of darkness. This place, this throne, this man. They were connected, they were one, the foretold Sith’ari looked upon his faithful servant with cold eyes.

What he saw before him was a Lord of the Sith, a Sith Master proven worthy by merit and action in accordance to the Sith Code, this was Darth Tennacus . This was a Sith worthy of the New Sith Order.

“Welcome home Lord Tennacus.”

His hand rose from the stonework throne, a gesture to the Sith Lord who had knelt before him. “Rise.” The sulfuric eyes of the Sith’ari washed over him, his presence was a consumptive void, a black hole that saturated the area in darkness, devouring all else in the all consuming pressure that was his presence.

“I have been watching.”

A spark of lightning ricocheted in the backdrop, a momentary flash of light illuminated the throne along with the colossal antechamber.

“The New Sith Order grows, a new age is upon us as the GRAND PLAN nears culmination with each passing moment. Power. To share it is to dilute it. We are united in name, but rivals in the shadows. The weak must always be culled so the strong may continue to rise. Only those worthy must advance, only the strongest must continue to push the New Age upon us.”

The Dark Lord rose from his throne, his high collared cloak flowing down as he stood tall. Darth Solipsis smiled with dark grimace, he extended his hand outward to his right flank as a hooded servant slowly began to approach. The wretched figure was one of the faithful, cultists who revered the power of the Dark Side, attendants to the Dark Lord and his vision of a new galaxy. The veiled figure carried with them a covered icon, a blanketed gift to Darth Tennacus . The servant kneeled to the Sith Lord upon reaching him and bowed their covered head.

“You are worthy. Look upon it.”

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[Darth Tennacus]

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The intensity in the room was ever powerful; a servant to the Light may befall illness under such gargantuan weight. Tennacus could feel it like death in the air. Yet there he mounted himself in tolerance, rising only when asked - ordered. Too many a year had passed since such gratitude had bestowed him, but the Sith Lord remained unchanged in his demeanour, for it was neither fame nor boastfulness which fuelled his loyalty. The way of the Sith was within him. His blood ran deep with the Dark Side; his veins throbbed in the promise of the Sith's restoration. And their shadow was growing immensely, reaching its arms across the Galaxy. The Grand Plan was in the making. Tennacus only hoped to live long enough to see it.

But he was working on that.

The approach of the obscure cultist was received in silence. The Sith Lord had reached out to the Force, feeling the surge of power emanating from that blanketed Holocron. Only when the servant kneeled before him did his arm raise ever slowly, fingers stretching with delicacy to peel away the fabric which blinded it. Its removal alone radiated so powerful an energy - one which would bring the likes of any mortal to destruction, or descend into madness upon such realities of terror. Incoherent whispers ushered over the tides of the Force as Darth Tennacus drew ever closer to it. Understanding this to be a source of undeniable power, he revered himself for not folding within its presence. He was born for this.

And so he claimed it, having the power - the worthiness - to open the shaped vessel, so that he could drink in the knowledge and wisdom from the fountain of Siths of old: the undeniable reaches of the Dark Side which ascended them to the highest form of power within the Galaxy, and allowed them to uphold it for so very long and great era. For a fleeting moment, the Sith felt that his palm was upholding the world; the power to change the fates of many, right there within his hands - and now burrowing into the depths of his mind. When the weight of the intangible storm passed, Darth Tennacus looked up towards his Dark Lord; and he was reborn.

His demeanour had not changed, but the way he carried himself exuded great confidence. Pride.

His head bowed, lifting as slowly as it was lowered. "And such knowledge will serve to uphold our cause, my Lord," Tennacus continued Darth Solipsis ' grand speech. "The power sewn into us will inevitably deliver the Sith back to that seat of power; and it will be only those of us worthy who will live to stand before it. A thousand years in the shadows could not stop us. But a thousand years of our shadow will reign true over the Galaxy."

 

[Darth Solipsis]

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DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
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"The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise. Words passed on by the great Darth Sidious himself and his master before him. Secrets to life, secrets to death and cheating it's elusive grasp. Pay heed to it's gatekeeper but do not allow the temptations of immortality cloud your judgment, it is a fool's gambit." The Dark Lord of the Sith rose from his throne, eyes glaring forth like daggers piercing the flesh of the one before him, "We all must eventually cast aside our physical shell, whether by choice or by death's embrace. It is cyclical, the strongest must always rise, the master usurped by the apprentice upon worthiness made manifest to don the mantle of Sith Master. We can delay death, but in the end we only cheat ourselves by thinking we will not be replaced when our worth runs dry."

The holocron glistened in the stray strands of light that touched upon it in the darkened throne room, sparks flashed in the distance, the sounds of electric discharge ricocheted from wall to wall as it bounced around the chamber echoing forth. The holocron was now in the possession of Darth Tennacus , it would serve him well in the coming days. His words not lost upon the Dark Lord, Darth Solipsis gave the Sith Master a brief nod of approval with a final word.

"The Grand Plan nears fruition, I have a task for you my faithful."

He stepped down from his hollowed throne, approaching the Sith Lord with a terrible glare and a wicked smile that slowly crept across his face.

"It is time we strike the Jedi."

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[Darth Tennacus]

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Wise words were spoken that day. Tennacus revelled in their announcement, but he heeded the warning as if it was first introduced to him that very second. Immortality was a feat a thousand years and more of Sith could not bring to their subjugation. Long had Darth Tennacus instilled within his Apprentice the one duty that the Force would inevitably demand of him. The ancient tradition of ascension that could be delivered no way other than killing Tennacus himself, allowing his Apprentice a rightful position of power and authority. And if he so failed, then the Dark Side had spoken; its claim would be set in stone; a new Apprentice would be chosen to carry the mantle. But until such a day, Tennacus would rule over him as he always had, until at last the Force had cast its omen to set about that act that would change his fate henceforth. That was the way of the Sith. The demands of the Dark Side, and all those who accurately embraced it.

Tennacus kneeled before the descent of his Dark Lord, but his head rose to the announcement of what would come next. At last, he thought, and rose accordingly with the Holocron in hand. At last, we shall set ourselves upon them, as the Force demands of us.

The Sith Lord bowed his head only briefly. The emphasised breaths of his respirator rasped through its vents as the Dark Lord moved closer, with each chilling breath reminding him of a pain that would only fuel him in the battles to come. The Light versus the Dark: a tale perhaps as old as time itself. They were the shadow upon the horizon, and the day would come that they would dawn a new age of darkness. A galaxy devoid of Light, with the Dark Side stronger than ever.

"I am at your disposal, my Lord," Tennacus formally announced, but Darth Solipsis already knew that. "When you are ready, I will be there."