Private One Last Drink for The Empire

[Lark]

Lark was drunk, and therefore in the only state of mind in which one would ever willingly discuss philosophy.

With smugglers and pirates and surviving Sith soldiers he danced and sang on Thule, if some lost Jedi wandered into the tavern they might believe that the Sith had not yet fallen. The casual joy these murderers and fanatics displayed was akin to a few youths going out for a drink on whatever free day they had. Thule was a devastated land. But if there were ever to be an establishment that could survive the collapse of an empire it would be a bar. No matter what happened in the galaxy, people would always want something to drink. Whether it were a celebration of victory or a lamentation of failure, champagne or beer would be poured. It was both the sweetest and most vile thing a tongue could taste. But wine-soaked lips were the most vulnerable, the most prone to chatter. And that was what Lark was after.

Lark had been a Sith for quite a while, and yet despite his unyielding dedication to his goals, still his allegiance swayed from time to time. The moment he joined the Empire he stated aloud that no power such as this would last for eternity. And how right he was. The master he once served turned traitor and perished. Of the dozen acolytes he once trained alongside, perhaps one or two survived, and even they were lost. Just as every civilization foretold, The Sith Empire was destined to fall into ruination. It was not a new story, and one would be a fool to be surprised by it. No empire was eternal. But this was this first time Lark had bore witness to the collapse of a kingdom he had played a part in forming. But he did not feel any despair or horror as the Sith fell. In truth, he watched it all unfold with a passive amusement. From the moment the Empire was born Lark had predicted its demise. And yet darkness, like few other aspects could lay claim towards, was unstoppably infinite. How would it return? How did the survivors of such a collapse comprehend such a catastrophic event?

No matter how it happened, it was bound to be less boring than yesterday. Lark couldn't wait to see what happened next. He had invited a few of his Sith colleagues to this desolate little land of debauchery to get their opinions on the matter. To plan their next move, if there was even a move to be made. The Sith were an impish, evasive group of fellows. Even when an empire fell around them they could find refuge in the cracks.

Lark finished a song, and as the other patrons basked in their revelry once the chorus concluded, he sat back in his chair and swirled a glass of rum. One thing was clear. The Empire as it once was lay dead, and from its ashes something new would be reborn. A familiar story, one that Lark had experienced himself. There were Sith far more powerful than he that made some new scheme, demigods who had been in the game far longer than this little orphan from Myrkr. But Lark's time as a pawn was over. Very soon, he'd become something gloriously beautiful. A saint of the damned akin to nothing the galaxy had ever seen.

Oh dear, the liquor makes me awfully dramatic, Lark thought with a soft smile. He relaxed a little bit. He wasn't here to plot, he was here to have polite discourse. To see how others were reacting to the collapse of the Empire. To think, learn, and compare ideas to his compatriots.

And maybe plot a little.

Darth Strosius Saket Keane

 

[Darth Strosius]

It had been nearly four years since Alisteri had first entered Sith space, since he had first sworn his eternal allegiance to the Dark Side and its most numerous and powerful servants. Four long years that felt like mere weeks upon reflection. Four years of war and strife, of seeing and causing more death than he could have ever envisioned back on Kessel. From a slave boy with a replacement eye to a relatively efficient soldier of the Dark that could regenerate whatever he lost, Alisteri had not spent the four years being idle.

Across planet after planet he had fought, bled, and killed all those that had sought to put him down or to destroy the Empire that he had deemed his new home. He had made friends, even founded a small cult all his own of refugees and the needy from all around the Empire, and he had earned himself the title of Acolyte amongst the ranks of the Sith.

Four long years, and at the end of it he couldn't stop his new home's collapse.

Before he had left his enslavement on Kessel, the Sith had ravaged the Galaxy and the people of the Galaxy were not keen on letting them go unhindered. Unholy alliances of so called warriors of Light and witch-hunting traitors alike had risen to meet the vast forces of the Sith. And then came the false-Sith. They who would see a moment of weakness in the Empire and exploit it for their own gains, be they heretic or butcher. Alisteri had fought against every threat of the Empire within the four years, and yet he was but an Acolyte in a sea of war.

No matter what he did, no matter who he killed and no matter how long he could stand, the actions and inaction of those far above him would decide the fate of the Sith. And what a fething disappointment that turned out to be.

Abandoned by all of their allies, besieged on all sides, and with powerful Sith either doing nothing or outright betraying the Empire, it could only last so long. And yet here he was, walking into a tavern on Thule still hoping for a miracle. Still hoping that somehow, the Dark Side would save the Empire. With each day, he saw how futile hoping was when action needed to be taken.

But that was all neither here nor there, now was not the time nor place for grand speeches or actions. Now was a time of calm amidst the storm, and a time to catch up with a couple of fellow Sith.

The masked Acolyte dodged around a group of drunken revelers and spotted the scarlet-haired Sith easily, all Sith stuck out in crowds after all. "Lark. I see you've taken to the festivities already." He noted with a slight bit of humor in his tone, slipping past another patron or two as he managed to slip into a seat at the table with the other Sith. "Have you changed your hair? It looks different from what I remember."

Lark Saket Keane

 

[Lark]

Lark tilted his head backwards, smiling and laughing as the heart of the revelry continued to grow stronger around him. Men gorged themselves on drink and fatty food, but if such vices brought the joy that might one day be the fuel for the resurrection of an Empire, who was he to judge them? He partook in the sin, same as the rest of them. He might have even enjoyed lechery even more than the rest of them, but for reasons no one would be able to guess. In truth, despite the circumstances, Lark was having fun. He wouldn't go as far to say he was happy the Empire was left in ruination. But history had proven that ashes could be the greatest parents, and that from the cinders of the Empire something even greater could rise. Why waste time lamenting loss when the death of the Empire could be the greatest opportunity the Sith could have hoped for? The collapse meant the Sith were not perfect. The survivors knew that, and would amend their mistakes.

The arrival of a friend made Lark nearly jump up in joyful, tipsy stupor. "Alisteri!" He shouted, a complete contrast to his companions quieter mannerisms. Fellow revelers heard Lark's cry of glee and mimicked it, shouting Alisteri's name in varying degrees of intoxication. Even though they knew not who he was, someone they shared a drink with a moment ago was happy to see him, so that surely meant he was a decent fellow, and the night must be better for him being there. "My hair's certainly grown a bit longer, now I can wear it almost like a cape. Real pain to maintain though."

"Glad you've survived all this madness," Lark said once the chorus of cheers subsided. "I've lost track of who's left. Hey, waitress! Lemme get two more glasses of rum!" He had formed a close bond with the woman running drinks, and a moment later a glass of sweet spiced rum was placed in front of each of the Sith. The drink shrouded his thoughtful manner from others, though every spoken word he hung onto like it was the word of some oracle that knew exactly what the future held. He was engaged in his environment, and that was when he was at his most dangerous. He could share his ideas with others, and his friends could share their thoughts with him. And this saint of the damned was grateful for every little tidbit of knowledge that graced his mind.

"I'm grateful you've shown up," Lark began, swirling his drink around in its glass. "I was hoping to speak about what's happened with someone, and I feel as one in a similar position as I, you might provide interesting dialogue. The Empire is dead, and fellows like us are left to either clean up the mess that's been left behind or hide away in the crags of the galaxy for eternity. I know which I prefer, as messy as it might be. The world won't stop just because the Empire has. We've gotta keep up however we can. And if you don't like rum, feel free to pour your glass into mine. Get anything you want, dead men don't care much for tabs."

Lark raised his glass, though the Empire was gone he could give one last toast. To the glory it once had, and the magnificence that he knew the Sith could have. The dark would never die, could never die. And now as the shadows retreated, Lark grew even more dangerous. When the time came another beacon of darkness would arrive. Perhaps Lark might be it's herald.

"One last toast to the Empire. May it's memory birth something even greater."

Darth Strosius Saket Keane

 

[Darth Strosius]

The shout of his name by a good bit of the wasted denizens of the tavern was a bit of a surprise, one that made him jump slightly as he settled in his seat. The smell of alcohol and inebriation was thick in the air. Or, thick in the air for his senses at least. The atmosphere combated any discomfort the scent ight have caused though, so jovial and carefree. And of course he had some catching up to do.

"I can imagine that it takes a lot of work." He glanced over the crimson-haired man again, idly wincing at the mere thought of how much brushing said hair must take. "You are braver than I to attempt to manage it at all." Before Alisteri fully realized what the other Sith had told the waitress, a glass of rum was sitting in from of him. Quick service. An idle muse slipped through the rest of his thoughts as he tapped the glass with a finger. He had no intention of drinking himself, he didn't care much for the taste of alcohol, but it was nice to have the option there.

Of course, he would rather divulge in an intoxicating conversation than a beverage.

"I hope I can live up to those expectations then, although I doubt that I'm as enlightened about my next steps as you are about yours." The masked man suppressed a wince at the mention of the now-fallen Empire. It was so casual, for it was indeed a fact, but it still stung to hear. The implications of it alone were disheartening at best, and that wasn't even mentioning the circumstances of how and why it fell. He raised his glass in toast and nodded. "To the Empire, may it's legacy be lasting." While it was tempting to drink away the sobering thoughts of an uncertain future, he still poured the rum into Lark's glass right after the toast. "There is certainly a big mess that's been left behind for us to comb through. Sometimes I wish I had been in the service of one of those Sith Lords that had a bunker or some sort of escape plan. Would have made the commute here easier at least." He joked, running his finger along the rim of the glass in his hand.

That had been part of the problem, in his mind at least, for the Empire. So many Sith had backup plans, contingencies, and other resources allocated for after the Empire. It often made him wonder what could have been achieved if said resources were used for the Empire instead of after it, but such thinking was useless. "I for one wouldn't mind helping to pick up the pieces here and there, but I do have some prior arrangements and responsibilities to attend to before I can commit a full effort."

He shrugged, sitting back in his seat and taking a moment to glance around the crowd. "Tell me Lark, what's your plan after the drinks run out and the hangover wears off? Any sights to see? Any enemies to vanquish? What are you going to do with what's left of our Empire?"

Lark Saket Keane

 

[Lark]

Lark smiled softly as Alisteri settled into the conversation. In all honesty, the two were little more than acquaintances. They had begun their training at entirely different stages of the Empire's lifetime, and as a result they likely had differing views on the overall image of the Sith. Alisteri was a fine young man, if Lark had trained with him more frequently perhaps they'd even consider the other a true comrade. But he couldn't help but wish that it were Orion, Blake, or that pretty little immortal Ariealla sipping rum with him instead. Those three were his classmates. His friends, if a Sith could ever claim to have any.

Lark and Orion had fought together on innumerable battlefields, they shared a bond unlike any other Lark had with the Sith. If there was any man that Alisteri was most reminiscent of, it was Orion. But it was Blake Morrigan that had been the first to truly intrigue him. The two seemed to bond over mutual desperation, the young woman displayed a power and eagerness that Lark hoped to match. They trained and bled together, and when she vanished Lark had his first interaction with a being far more ancient than he. Ariealla was as near an eldritch being as a mortal could ever be. But it was her wit and charm that Lark missed the most.

See what the rum does to you, he thought. Why so nostalgic? He took a brave swig of rum after Alisteri poured his share into Lark's own glass, and wiped his lips with the rough leather of his tunic. In truth, Alisteri hit at a deep concern Lark had with the Empire. He understood that among the Sith, only the strongest survived. But he couldn't help but shake the feeling that the Lords of the Empire took a convenient escape from any consequence. They were cowards. How could the Sith ever establish a true presence in the galaxy if their leaders scurried away like rats whenever challenged? Sure, the Sith would rise again in some new appealing form. But when the Jedi or the NIO or some other faction arrived with torches once more, would the Sith run for the holes in the wall yet again?

"Perhaps a month or so ago, these words might've been blasphemous. But I can't help but feel a bit bitter over the way the Lords abandoned us." His words, though laced with venom, were said as though they were apart of a children's fable. Kind and calm. "What consequences will they face? No matter how powerful they might be, why are they worth following again?"

Lark sighed. "Perhaps I'm too quick to pass judgement. I've acknowledged their wisdom before. But if they were to raise their banners once more I'd pause before rushing back to them. The hard truth remains that the Sith Empire lost. That failure implies imperfection. Perhaps the future of the Sith does not lie with those who failed us."

"Or maybe they'll be humbled," Lark said with a chuckle. He hoped they would be. They were responsible for turning him into the monster he had hoped to become. He thought hard before answering Alisteri's next question, for it was one that he had been considering for some time now. What was next for Lark?

If there was one thing Lark regretted, it was that neither Blake nor Ariealla ever got to see the true Lark. Orion had glimpsed the true image once or twice. But all three of them were but memories now. Alisteri was still here. For better or worse, the man would have to take Lark for what he now was. Some sort of twisted saint of the damned.

"About a month ago I tracked down my sister, whom I thought for the longest time was dead. I found her alive and erased her memory, effectively killing the woman she once was. She was one of the only people left I loved, and now she's little more than a dreg of what she was when we sang and played together as children. If she's not that same girl anymore, than how could I ever love her?"

"Once my hangover recedes, my brother is next. He'll be infinitely more difficult to track down. But once he returns to the ashes where we were born, there will be nothing tying me to my past life. There would be nothing holding me back any longer. I could guide the universe towards the future I've always envisioned."

Another sip of rum turned his words more casual. He laughed like the two were at a party watching another friend of theirs fail to flirt with some romantic interest. Just as the Lark that spoke those determined words was his true self, so too was Lark this friendly, reliable ally. "And you, Alisteri? What's in your future? How will an acolyte such as yourself face this catastrophe?"

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

There was a moment of pause from Alisteri as Lark began speaking on the subject of Sith Lords. He said nothing, only raising an empty glass in agreement. In his mind, the other Sith had hit the nail right on the head. The Empire had gained half of the galaxy as enemies due to the actions of but a few powerful Sith, and so many soldiers and lesser Sith had to pay the price for it.

That was the worst tragedy of the war. So much blood lost due to the actions of the few.

The many have to suffer and bleed so that the few can live on. If only this was the exception rather than the rule. He had little respect left for powerful Sith anymore. It seemed that all they could do was be the subject of wild stories and cause trouble for other Sith. Whether it be the supposed "Sith Schism", which in his mind was little more than a power grab between Lords, and the lack of support on the frontlines, the aura of power that such people gave off had faded to reveal cowardice and selfishness. And it had cost far too many lives for it to be forgiven so easily. Good lives too, brave ones.

The thought made him angry, thus he was grateful for the subject change. He winced slightly as the other Sith spoke of his...family. There was only so much sympathy that Alisteri could offer though, he had no family and only really cared for a couple of people. Still, he wasn't about to interrupt or offer condolences out of turn. The way of the Sith was hard, and only those with the strongest of wills could endure it and come out sane. Lark could bear the burden, of that he was sure.

If he couldn't...well that doesn't bode well for me then.

He inclined his head slightly at the mention of guiding the universe though. Now that certainly caught more than just his pity for lost family, a slight bit of concern and curiosity mostly. Of course he knew that Lark had been a part of the Sith Empire longer than he had, how long he wasn't quite sure to be fair, but that led to some interesting thoughts. What is his view of the Sith like? He was in the Empire during its greatest time, I was only there to try and deal with the collapse of it all...

"I wish you luck in your search then Lark. I...hope that you find what you seek. Force knows we're all searching for something now eh?" When the conversation came back around to him, he shifted in his seat and took a moment to think of an answer. "In truth I have no plan. It's been...well years since I've seen my master even before the collapse of everything, and my contacts are few and far between." He shrugged, setting the empty glass back down on the table. "I doubt I'll be jumping in to get revenge on those that abandoned us just yet, although I wouldn't mind seeing a blade sunk into the back of some of our old superiors."

"Even if I'm not the one wielding said blade." The galaxy was dangerous and turbulent, especially for a Sith. Being an Acolyte only made him all the more vulnerable, he had nowhere to hide and was too weak to be open and obvious about who he was. Hiding and being on the run would be his life for the foreseeable future. He wouldn't be alone in that endeavor of course. "Thankfully, I do have something to keep me occupied while I wait for the Sith to get their act together."

Alisteri sat back in his seat, idly drumming his fingers on the surface of the table. "While my path as a Sith is unclear, I do have a goal still. Back before the Empire went down I began amassing followers of the Dark and refugees. I suppose you could label them a cult of sorts, but I mainly wanted to offer them a safe place in the Empire. They're mostly civilians of course, but with the Empire gone there are plenty more people willing to get somewhere safe. I have a ship, just a frigate though, that is currently carrying all that I have saved. I hope to see to it that they can find a home. Somewhere that no Jedi or witch hunter can blight or despoil."

The pilgrimage of his cult would not be a short one, of that he was sure. Already they had began bartering and trading skills for extra credits and food at every station they stopped at. Fuel was another matter entirely, and it wasn't cheap given that the only governments left in the area were hostile ones. Still, they would persevere. He had faith in his followers, and they had put theirs in him.

"Once they're safe, then maybe I can worry about my future."

Lark