Private Of Silence & Rot

[Allyson Locke]

//: Darth Nefaron //:
//: Anoat //:
//: Attire //:

A gloved hand adjusted the breather on her face while data scrolled across the datapad's screen. Allyson had found a hidden corner outside the imposing fortress ruled by the Sith Lord controlling the planet. She had witnessed things here, dreadful things that would haunt her dreams for months. Darth Nefaron's atrocities had twisted Anoat into something unrecognizable. It was far removed from her memories of the place from her youth.

Her hand flexed involuntarily, leather stretching tightly across tense knuckles. This was far worse than Taeli's reports had suggested. Allyson felt a sharp sting behind her eyes; she wanted to cry.

Taking a quiet breath, she pressed deeper into the shadows as the unsettling shuffle of the undead guards echoed nearby. They were everywhere, and Allyson wondered grimly if another living soul even remained on the planet's surface.

Her gaze settled on a small troop heading toward a waiting transport, curiosity turning quickly into revulsion as figures were slowly marched out, blindfolded, and shackled together like livestock. Her cybernetic eye hummed softly, zooming in to capture the grim scene. After a few blinks, the device started recording, transmitting encrypted footage directly to her databank.

Allyson shifted slightly, keeping her cover intact as she watched the casual cruelty unfold. Slavery had become the planet's heartbeat, a grim echo of the Kainite doctrines she'd long despised. Her thoughts spiraled to Madelyn. How could she go along with this? How could she stand by and let this happen? Yet Allyson rationalized, justifying the Minister's position. Madelyn's role demanded acceptance and compromise. Allyson needed to believe that to absolve Madelyn selfishly.

As the transport emptied, more undead approached, pushing the chained prisoners through the fortress gates for processing. Allyson saw her opportunity. She cloaked herself in the Force, becoming unseen and her Force presence unnoticed. Swiftly, she placed a small probe against the fortress wall, linking it to her cybernetic eye and datapad, before slipping the device back into her pocket.

She moved silently, shadowing the slaves and their grotesque escorts. Soft, hopeless cries reached her ears, each whimper like a needle piercing her resolve. Allyson considered helping them, but there was no path to safety, and no real escape. The Blackwall and Kainite regime left little room for hope.

The fortress gates groaned open. Allyson slipped inside undetected, immediately finding a shadowed corner near a neglected terminal. She placed a hand on its cold surface and quickly scanned the corridor, senses heightened and alert. The Force surged within her as she effortlessly sliced into the system, pulling up schematics and facility layouts.

If she could find a ventilation shaft, she could deploy surveillance effectively and get out.

Allyson never liked horror holos. Deep down, she knew this mission was becoming one of the worst.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

[TAGS: Allyson Locke ]
[Music: Anthem of Evil]
[Anoat]

There was much to do.
​

Events had been moving into place, and the next phase of Darth Nefaron's plan was about to begin. The Dark Council would come, but they would find themselves divided. He may be punished, and he may have resources and slaves ripped from him, but work continued on his projects nonetheless. Darth Malum of House Marr had brought him into his sphere, and he expected much from the Corpse Lord in exchange for his "protection". In truth, the boy had bargained away his soul in exchange for power. Nefaron did not look down on him for this, for all who embraced the Dark Side were choosing to give away a part of themselves in order to impose their will on the galaxy. But Malum would need a monster if he was to take the throne of the Sith.

Nefaron would give him a monster. ​

Still, for the time being, Nefaron would need to build his cache with his new patron, which meant operating under certain restrictions. For one, the number of slaves coming into Anoat was drastically reduced, and only those skilled and necessary for his operations arrived. Thousands became a few hundred, but they would be enough. The Heir of Marr would see the error of his ways one day when the Core burned and hundreds of millions flowed into the Empire, payment for the Corpse Lord's efforts.

Nefaron dwelled in his laboratory atop the central spire of his fortress, his hands at work on various projects that had been ongoing since he first took hold of Anoat as his own. His toxins would bathe worlds in terror, his beasts would rip apart entire armored columns, and his blasphemous rituals would forever tip the balance of the force toward the Dark. His efforts had borne fruit, for developing within the heart of this terrible place was a vergence in the force, a place where hope came to die. Tens of thousands had languished under the lash, their pained cries only driving the Corpse Lord forward, his power growing and his terrible joy ever-present. Even in his laboratory, he swore he could hear the suffering of those who were worked to death in the pits below. This was a rare day for the Dark Lord, for his trusted servants had been dispatched on missions of their own. His apprentice, Veradun Sharr had shown great promise, the darkness in that boy might one day rival his own, but he would first have to confront his former High Prophet to forever break the chains that bound him to his weakness. The latest addition to Nefarons retinue, Serina Calis had ambitions of her own, seemingly after a bite of the Sith Empire to call her own in the form of Polis Massa. Nefaron cared little for her games, she was permitted to carry out her own schemes so long as she continued to obey the Corpse Lord and aid him in his projects.

But Nefaron was not alone.

There was another.
​

The Corpse Lord paused for a time, his hands still as he blended various chemicals. He peered off to one side as if looking at nothing at all as he sought to determine what he was sensing. Though his fortress was formidable, he knew full well that there would always be a crack to be exploited. An intruder has most certainly come into his home, but what was it they sought?

Backing away from his workstation, Nefaron folded his arms behind his back as he moved to the center of the room. A turbo-lift sprang into motion, creaking as it descended into the command center, a large room that contained the beating heart of Nefaron's military operations. Various communication stations and projections of the work ongoing beneath the surface filled the room, though a massive viewport occupied the largest part of the room, overlooking the vast, dead plains of Nefaron's world as storms continued to rage. The bulk of this technical work was entrusted to droids, as slaves were in short supply and his Corpse Legion was occupied policing those slaves that remained on-world.

"Have there been any disturbances detected in our central network?"

"No, Master-" a droid began, turning to meet the Corpse Lord "-but we are detecting unusual feedback from a terminal in sector 12b."

Nefaron processed that. He allowed his mind to wander the length of his fortress, the power of the vergence permitting him a form of sight within the walls of his home. There was no clear image of this being, only that they were alone in this terrible place.

And that they were afraid.

The fear was buried, but it was there.
​

"Cut power to that section. Seal the main gates and lock down the main hanger."

"Shall I dispatch security to that sector, Master?"

"No. We are going to welcome our guest properly. Ensure they have an open path to the throneroom."

"Yes, Master."

The Corpse Lord returned to the turbolift, but he wasn't quite done yet. He would very much like to meet his guest, show them his home, and allow them to enjoy the hospitality he had prepared for just such an occasion. But perhaps they would need a bit of prodding to delve further into his home?

His mind was free once more. Through dark halls and blooded corridors, he reached out to the intruder.

His voice was soft, even as it burrowed its way into the being's mind.

"If you wanted a tour, you need only have asked. The throneroom awaits."​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Darth Nefaron //:
//: Anoat //:
//: Attire //:

The lights cut out without warning. The terminal flickered once, then died, spitting the woman out of the system.

Allyson stepped back instinctively, releasing the Force cloak that had wrapped her like a second skin. Darkness, once a threat, now became her only shield.

Her breath caught. It was too sudden and deliberate. She hadn't sensed any eyes on her, living or dead. And yet, something knew. A chill crept up her spine. She thought the undead shouldn't be able to sense her through the Force. That was the whole point of the cloak. Another question for Taeli. Another nightmare for later.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest, and Allyson swallowed. Whatever had lodged in her throat refused to go down. The cybernetic eye adjusted with a low whir, shifting into night vision as she scanned the corridor.

She hated the dark. She hated the sound of the undead even more, the slow, uneven shuffle of limbs, the drag of rotting flesh across the floor, and, worst of all, the broken wheeze. The corpses still breathed. Or tried to. A habit from the living days that their bodies refused to forget.

Allyson pressed her back to the wall, closed her eyes, and breathed—then another. The old teachings whispered through her fractured mind but were grounding. She counted each breath until her heartbeat slowed and the sweat dried on her brow—until the pieces of herself began to slide back into place.

Mission first. Identity second. Emotion last.

Allyson compartmentalized who she was, what she had seen, and why she had come. Each truth is locked in a mental box, sealed by years of perfect discipline. The spy, the agent, the ghost in the dark, not the woman unraveling beneath the weight of everything she could no longer feel.

Still hidden in shadow, she pulled a small case from her pocket. Inside: a cluster of slicer spiders, their matte shells gleaming faintly under the cybernetic eye's glow. Tiny design marvels were Imperial-certified, Tsis'Kaar-registered, each stamped with a flawless license courtesy of Locke & Key.

She'd have to thank John for that. As always, her cousin didn't ask questions. Maybe because he knew not to. Perhaps he was happier not knowing what she did with his help.

One by one, the spiders stirred, chirping softly as they activated. They scattered, crawling into the cracks of the fortress's network, slipping between firewalls like silk through fingers. They became part of it, just more static in the signal before vanishing into vents, terminals, and power lines to feed encrypted data to a secure, hidden databank.

Allyson closed the box and held it tightly, a shiver crawling up her spine as something pressed into her mind—a voice—just an invitation. She froze.

This was a bad idea. Every instinct screamed it. Taeli had warned her what Darth Nefaron was. What he could do. What he would do if given the chance.

But curiosity clawed at her, deep and compulsive. There was a hunger in her to see him, to understand what made him real and powerful, to look horror in the face and not flinch. Curiosity always won.

The doors ahead stood open, waiting. No resistance met Allyson's steps. No alarms. No tricks. It was too easy. She walked forward with her chin high and her breath even. Her lies wrapped around her like armor, truths she whispered to herself until she believed them.

She was fine. She was focused. She wasn't afraid. She was lying, of course. But that was the job.

Allyson arrived at the throne room faster than expected. The architecture etched itself into her mind—column by column, shadow by shadow. Her eye scanned and memorized, silently calculating exit routes, transmission lines, surveillance blind spots. A signal discreetly burst from her system to three encrypted receivers scattered across orbit and ground. Ghost signals, untraceable, proof she was still here. Still alive. For now.

Stepping forward as he appeared in the silent hall of nightmares. "Darth Nefaron," she said calmly, smooth as silk. "My apologies for the unannounced visit." She let the Corellian drawl curl at the edges of her voice, just enough charm to make the insult feel like a joke.

"I promise I do have manners."

Spoiler: Coordinate Safety Tags

Madelyn Lowe Darth Empyrean Taeli Raaf

 

[Darth Nefaron]

[TAGS: Allyson Locke ]
[Music: Anthem of Evil]
[Anoat]

"Manners? I don't see you groveling before me, so I'm afraid I don't believe you."
​

The Corpse Lord chuckled, his voice filling an empty chamber of red-stained stone and banners that seemed to be the flayed remains of those unfortunate enough to be victims of this horrid place. Nefaron himself did not sit on his throne, instead, he stood with his back to his guest, looking up at the ruling seat of his small Empire. This intruder wasn't quite what he expected, but he was certain this was no mere attempt at assassination or theft, so he did not bother with any attempt at grandeur or a show of force. She was alone, so he would meet her as the host of his home instead of the nightmare that would haunt her dreams.

Nefaron turned at last, his dead eyes looking upon his intruder as his lipless maw attempted a smile. Arms folded behind his back, the Sith approached the young woman slowly, as if he was but a crippled old man hobbling about, but in reality he was far from what he appeared. His intruder guarded herself well; her mind was a wall of durasteel, but much could be gathered from her actions. She was deliberately trying to calm herself, to make herself an island in the middle of a dark storm. He should congratulate her for her effort, but in the end, he knew all too well that her mind was a wash with thoughts of escape, of fleeing from this place to breathe fresh air once more. But that was not to be, not at least until Nefaron got his chance to ask his guest a few questions.

"But your apology isn't necessary. I am always eager to have guests in my home, even one sent to spy on me. I am an open book, my dear, but I'm afraid I cannot say the same for you."

He stopped a few feet from her, hands still folded behind his back, and that unnatural grin still plastered on his face.

"Let us be honest with each other. Was it Malum who sent you? No, he would know better not to prod. I doubt the Emperor sent you personally, leaving two potential Dark Councilers as your master. Only they could get away with dispatching a spy into my midst without fear of reprisal."

Nefaron's gaze bored into her, as if he was trying to look through and back down into the dark hallway. But he did not linger; he began to pace, walking around his guest as he continued to speak.

"No matter. I know why you are here. I have been accused of trying to overthrow the Emperor. While that is true, let me ask this. Is this not the goal of every other Dark Lord? Find me one fool who isn't scheming to take the throne. But what you are after is proof of my treason, offenses your master can use against me."

The Corpse Lord paused then, his pacing having brought him to a place behind his guest. In a swift motion, he approached her and leaned in, just enough for his whisper to be clear.

"Let me show you just what I have been up to."

Nefaron brushed past the intruder, making his way to the center of the room to stand on a large symbol, etched into the stone floor of this throneroom.

"This way, my lady. There is so much to see, but we must delve further into the darkness if you are to truly see why this place has become so special to me."

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Darth Nefaron //:
//: Anoat //:
//: Attire //:

"Unfortunately, the one that holds my leash forbids me to grovel at the feet of another." Allyson quipped with a cheeky grin. The Darth knew nothing of who held what for the Corellian, but it was still fun to poke at the lesser details of the conversation.

Allyson mused as he listed the possibilities of who had sent her. She did find it curious that he didn't suspect the Alliance or one of the other light-sided forces. But most Sith thought nothing of those governments; she had learned that while she did work under the banner of the Alliance.

The Lord moved closer as he spoke. The grin on his face sought to unnerve her, but she remained stoic—with the same plastered smirk upon her face. She allowed him to finish, her eyes watching him move as he circled her.

Allyson felt the hairs on her neck stand; the feeling of someone behind her was the feeling that made her uncomfortable. The sound of his whisper against her ear and the stench of a corpse chilled her soul to the core. Carefully turning on her heel, the Corellian faced him, keeping her back protected out of necessity.

"Another apology, my Lord, but you know most of the Order, despite knowing better, cannot resist the temptation of knowing more." She nodded, "Lord Malum is the keeper of secrets and head of the Tsis'Kaar - you seem familiar with him." A hand gestured, as she nodded again.

"I know nothing of the other Councilors, so I can't say if they'd send someone or not, but I work under Lord Malum's command. He sent me to observe, which us talking might get me in a bit of trouble." Allyson gave the Sith a sigh, fearing the retaliation for her transgression. "I was told to remain hidden, but he seemed to underestimate your facility's security or overestimate my abilities."

Allyson shrugged.

She felt his mind digging into hers but kept her thoughts muddled and focused on a false memory of Malum's directive. She filled the thought with the Tsis'Kaar meeting - if anything proving her false allegiances.

"Either way, I appreciate the hospitality," Nodding, she took her stride with the man. The cybernetic eye quickly continued to feed the conversation to the stream she had running. His movements were fluid, and she quickly followed, taking in everything she could see. Allyson was curious about the change in Anoat and what this man was up to.

"I do find it funny how many desire the throne. The entire thing sounds like a bother, honestly." Allyson continued to look, following a step behind Nefaron. "I would rather be free of it all, do what I want, and not have the weight of a crown to keep me bound to something." Another shrugged as she told her second truth about their meeting.

"Why is it that you want to break the Empire? Seems like you got a good gig going on - why ruin it?" She was curious, why break something that seemed to be fruitful.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

It was truly something.

She could lie so effectively that Nefaron, for a moment, believed it.

But Malum had come to Anoat. Nefaron had laid bare his ambitions and showed him his home.

This little spy had become far more interesting.​

Nefaron, of course, said nothing of her lie. He simply made a noise of acknowledgment, brushing her justification aside as she followed him to the center of the chamber. They stood on the great seal of the ancient Sith, though of course this was no mere decoration. In a sudden motion, the seal became a platform that began to descend. Nefaron kept his hands folded behind his back, as he had no intention of scaring off his guest just yet.

What he did do was chuckle at her observation. Indeed, the path to power was a road not to be walked lightly, for one must be totally committed to their goal of achieving ultimate domination. Faltering on this path was tantamount to admitting weakness, something which the Sith could not abide. Nefaron did not judge his companion was one truly committed to the path of the Sith, so he did not bother repeating the Sith Code or lecturing her about the long and ancient history of the Order. Instead, he would offer her facts, something any spy would be interested in.

"For a Sith, there is no such thing as complacency. We strive for power, it is the one guiding principle that has driven us for ten thousand years and will continue to do so so long as beings continue to seek it out. The goal is not to be bound to the crown, it is to take it and mold the galaxy around yourself. Any ruler who bends to the will of those beneath them is destined to be dethroned."

As the platform continued to descend, the stone walls around them turned to open space as they entered a vast pit, large enough to accommodate tens of thousands of slaves at peak capacity. But instead of the anguish cries that were to be expected, there was silence. A few lit torches carried by patrolling Corpse Legionnaires were all that remained of a once great slave kingdom.

"Break the Empire? My dear, if you truly believe the Empire was ever united, then you really must examine our history once more. We are little more than disparate Lords, bound together by one who pretends to be above our games when in reality he remains in place precisely because his existence buys us time. Alone, the Tsis'Kaar, Kainite, and Asha'kura would be crushed by our Jedi enemies. But there will come a day when one Lord achieves dominance, one Lord who bounds the Empire to their will and bends to no pressure from those who are meant to serve."

The Emperor was an anomaly. Nefaron didn't just mean that based on his current appearance and state of existence, but for the fact that he had brought something akin to stability to Sith space. But in truth, the day was coming when even his vast power would not be enough, for a Dark Lord would appear to ascend to heights never before seen, a power not even the Emperor could stand against.

Nefaron was not that Dark Lord. Not yet.​

"I am not breaking anything. I rule over a single world, my Apprentice is still but a boy, and my allies are more likely to drive a blade into my back than serve me. Even now I bend to the will of another, for Darth Malum has robbed me of my vast legion of slaves. This place was once a glorious monument to suffering, and now it is rendered silent."

Nefaron turned to his guest, his face now shrouded in darkness as they continued to go even deeper into the depths of his fortress. A chill crept over the pair as they reached the sanctum, a place in which only Darth Nefaron knew of, that was enveloped in the power of the Dark Side. It was all-consuming and overwhelming to the point that it threatened to choke the life out of anyone uninitiated. But the Corpse Lord did not allow his companion to become overwhelmed; he was to be her guide in this dark place, and she would live to see the light of the stars once more.

"You come here to find some evidence of my treason. It is all around you, but how close am I to dethroning the Emperor? Decades? Centuries? My Legion pales in comparison to the power of the other great Lords. My fleet is but a handful of cruisers that are yet to be fully crewed. I did not lie to you earlier, all Sith crave power, but they know when to bow their head and serve."

Nefaron reached out, his hand aimed toward the Darkness, and from his finger tips leaped lightning, carefully igniting a great fire in the center of the room to reveal a vast collection of texts, holcrons, ancient murals, and parchment scrawled with the writings of the ancient Sith.

"What I do possess is knowledge. I see the secrets of the Dark Side, those found at the very edge of our galaxy where the original Dark Jedi fled before becoming the Sith. Some went mad, others crafted such great and terrible things that remain hidden even to this day."

Then the tendrils came once more as the Corpse Lord's whisper slipped into her mind.

"I offer you this knowledge. You may take your recordings back to your master, but to explore this place further, you must do so without your tricks. I wish to show you true power, power of the sort you will always be denied by those you serve."

TAGS: Allyson Locke

​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Darth Nefaron //:
//: Attire //:

Allyson listened quietly, though a part of her whispered that her lie wasn't entirely believed—merely tolerated. Regardless, she knew she could still return vital information to her employer. Leaving might have been the safest choice, but the Corellian maintained her calm facade, observing as the platform descended deeper into the facility. She hated this lack of control; moving further underground, unable to search for exits or escape routes, was deeply unsettling.

Still, she kept her composure, carefully ensuring the Sith Lord remained in her line of sight. Maintaining her distance, she watched and listened as he spoke, her gaze drifting across the unfolding scene—empty cages and eerie quiet filling her senses. She had expected to see slaves, evidence of horrors committed here, yet it wasn't quite as devastating as the Council had implied.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she realized Nefaron had been tipped off about the agent sent to investigate. One hand came up thoughtfully to her chin as she turned his words over in her mind—particularly his mention of Malum. If Malum was connected to this Sith Lord and the Council, he was like a child about to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Allyson's eyebrows rose briefly, recognizing that Malum might be more than just his usual posturing and facade of power. Still, part of her felt sorry for Nefaron if he believed someone like the Tsis'Kaar leader could ever be a trustworthy ally. Despite everything she'd seen here, she remained thoroughly unimpressed by the Tsis'Kaar.

She allowed the Sith to keep speaking. She'd dealt with enough Sith to know they couldn't resist standing atop a soapbox once offered the chance, relishing every moment.

The lift finally stopped, leaving them in the center of a large chamber. Allyson quickly swept her gaze across the room, instinctively seeking an exit, some route to safety. She hated being the mouse caught in a trap. Carefully, her attention returned to the Sith as he continued speaking, illuminating the space with his powers. Knowledge had been the lure her Master had used to tempt her; it was why she stayed within the Empire and accepted her role as his Apprentice.

Like so many before him, the man sought to topple her Master from his throne. Such ambition didn't surprise her—this was the nature of the Sith, something she'd learned to anticipate. Before Allyson could respond, the Sith reached into her fractured mind, his telepathic intrusion drawing a knowing smile to her lips.

Her facade was tolerated, just as her existence was. With a casual nod, the Corellian shrugged, echoing him. "Tricks?" Telepathy was a Force technique that eluded her despite her connection to it.

"I'm not sure what tricks you're referring to," she spoke evenly. "My lies? My weapons?" Her hands folded calmly behind her back as she glanced around the vast library of knowledge, realizing this Sith must have been far older than her sixty-eight years. Pausing, she fixed him with a steady gaze, keeping her usual cocky cadence.

"Fine," she said, a hint of venom bled into her tone as she regarded him for what he truly was. "I'll play along, Sith. Tell me exactly what tricks you think I'm using, and I'll drop them—because now you've got me curious."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

She wanted to play a game.

Nefaron would play one of his own.
​

He did wonder how long she would allow her act to continue. Even as cracks formed, she maintained the demeanor of the plucky rogue, so certain of herself that even here, the black heart of Anoat, she seemed positively chipper. Though he remained collected, he’d like nothing more than to toss her into the darkest depths and allow his beasts to rip her to shreds. But he’d promised she’d leave Anoat in one piece, and this was a promise he intended on keeping.

But he didn’t say she would be sane.

“Where shall I begin?”​

He paced toward her, a single hand raised as he counted off various violations of his generous hospitality.

“You broke into my home and attempted to access my systems. You have allowed our conversation to be recorded or even broadcast to your ever-eager masters. Despite whatever injury you have suffered, that thing clinging to your face is more than a reminder of some past failure.”

Her eyepatch, but Nefaron made no move to remove it. Such a thing may lead to a conflict, and that is not what he sought.

“Then we have your slicer droids. I have allowed them to continue their work, for I have told you more than they could ever find the fortress databanks.”

Now this was a revelation that she may not have expected, but in truth, Nefaron had been hiding secrets of his own.

“I did not build my fortress simply to house this library. In truth, something far greater has been hidden within the walls of his place, something that I fed anger, suffering, and terror. A vergence in the force hangs above our heads, in the great pit that once housed thousands of slaves. Through their strife, I now draw on power that few have access to, but even now the vergence remains freshly born; it will take years to reach its zenith.”

This was perhaps his greatest achievement so far. He had created a black hole in the force, a place where darkness flowed freely, unrestrained by the light that sought to drive it away.

It was an extension of the Corpse Lord.

Nothing escaped his sight. Not here. Not in the dark.

"I have had men flayed alive for transgressions far less than what occurred today. Yet you live, your mind remains whole."
​

Nefaron was but a few feet from his guest now. Despite the raging fire that lit the room, the Corpse Lord's presence drove the temperature down to near freezing. His dead eyes revealed nothing. His skin, pale as bone, appeared all but dead, and yet he continued on, his sadism and desire to see all the galaxy drown in fear keeping his mortal form going. By all means, he should have unleashed his wrath and bathed this woman's mind in endless terror, watching her break and fall apart before him. Would her masters come for her? Would they cast down his fortress and destroy his vision for the galaxy? Perhaps.

But they wouldn't save her.
​

But the Corpse Lord resisted that urge. He restrained his darker impulses and instead turned away, hands folded behind his back once more as he made his way toward one of the many shelves of knowledge he possessed. Without so much as a gesture, a tablet came to his hands, the force flowed in this place like a raging torrent, a boon for those acclimated to the Dark Side.

"Have I revealed all your little tricks, or do you hide yet more? I have much to show you, but if you wish to continue spying instead of learning, then you may leave this place now. I'm afraid this offer has a time limit, so I'd make your decision quickly unless you'd like to become part of the decor."

The Corpse Legion did enjoy flaying their victims. Even Nefaron was unsure why they enjoyed the process, but far from him to prevent his servants from having a bit of fun. Perhaps this spy would become yet another banner to add to the throne room, one more reminder that this world would forever belong to the Corpse Lord.

Nefaron did not bother looking back at his guest. He began his studies of the tablet as if she weren't present at all. She could join him and delve deeper into the dark, or she could return to her masters with little more than his word and descriptions of a nearly empty fortress and a distinct lack of any real resources to overthrow the Emperor.

The choice was not a difficult one.

TAG: Allyson Locke ​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Darth Nefaron //:
//: Attire //:

As the Sith explained her transgressions, Allyson used her hand to count off as he explained. Her face showed concern as she nodded with each point he rattled off. When he mentioned her eye, she raised her brow, curious as to why he was so fixated on the eyepatch. Reaching up, she slowly removed the leather patch and wiggled it. Sliding the eyepatch into her pocket, she returned to keeping count of her offenses.

She was surprised that he had noticed the slicer droids. They had done their job, but they had been discovered and were not at the disposal of the Sith's forces. Still, Allyson tried not to think too much about the droids.

Her hands fell into her pockets as she continued to listen, not wanting to interrupt the man while he spoke. Despite not being a hero, the Corellian knew when not to interrupt the villain from monologuing. He was telling her everything she needed to know, all of the information she had come to find. As he gestured to the fortress, Allyson glanced around - still, she couldn't find the escape she wanted to find.

The entire fortification was impressive. There had been places that the spy had infiltrated that were magnificent but didn't hold a candle to the stronghold Nefaron had built. The only other places she knew she could compare this place to was the Malsheem or Mors Mon. Both terrified the Corellian enough that she would only step on the ships if she was ordered to or if a certain Minister dragged her kicking and screaming. The thought made the woman frown, her brow furrowing, hoping it never happened again.

"Flayed?" Allyson blinked; her attention was now entirely on Nefaron. Taeli had warned her, but she played the part of the unsuspecting. "Woah, uh - let's not go that far. I realize I've messed up, and please understand that I am very sorry."

Her hand rested on the back of her neck nervously as she forced a chuckle. She was pretty fond of the skin on her body.

As he finished and fully addressed her, Allyson tapped her chin for a moment, deep in thought. "I think you've gotten all of them. You're quite impressive, my Lord." Her eyes glanced around once more, taking in the vast area they were standing in.

"The offer is very tempting." Allyson folded her hands behind her back as she mused over the choices. "My master is quite annoying. I find his posturing and vows of power abound, pointless and empty. He constantly promises power and how it's within my grasp if I just do what he asks." Allyson shrugged. "Your teachings sound interesting. Color me intrigued."

The Corellian smiled, seeing that he was already leaving the area. It was her signal to follow, so she did so - she followed him deeper into the fortress. Perhaps what he wanted to show her was more interesting than she had already seen.

"I'm curious. You assume that Malum doesn't hold my leash. Why haven't you asked further who sent me?" Tilting her head, she continued to follow a step behind the Sith.

"Are you confident in who you assume sent me? Since we're not hiding anything anymore, I expected the question to be asked." Looking up, she let her voice trail.

"You are quite interesting, my Lord."