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[Darth Empyrean]

Jutrand
876 ABY

The skyline of Jutrand was modern and jutting - dark spires shadowed by the sun behind them to form great black pillars landscaped by the deep purple, orange, and reds of the sky. Like any city-planet, the world never slept - and even in these early morning hours the sky was full of automated transports and air speeders of varying sizes. Business was booming - but only after the martial law was lifted by the Eternalists.​

​

After their arrival, subsequent destruction of information infrastructure, and major military operations in the region, the city world was silenced in three weeks of darkness. Power facilities had run on minimal effort, no information was parsed between regions on the planet, and all traffic was grounded - they’d called this the ‘Month of Shadow’, but there was never an official title granted to it.​

​

On the contrary, the Sith ignored it ever happened. They had used this time to kill any major organizers of resistance, latent Jedi on the world, and any possible rebel cells that formed in the first few weeks - notably including any hyper nationalistic security cells. Now the world was coming back out of that disarray, and although production had dropped significantly, trends reported it was growing quickly back into the strength that was needed.​

​

When the blackout protocol was finally lifted, Jutrand would be a powerful symbol of Sith hegemony, but before that could be done the world must be placated and sterilized of heretical thought. This led to the establishment of the Rintsosûtisan iw Wiai diâ Wanizi Zaja, acronymed to the RWWZ - translated to the Organization of Political and Religious Truth. Zealots armed with information networks built by the Frumentarii and military assets leftover from the conquests of Rutan and Subterrel - who made up for their lack of equipment with outright brutality and torture.​

​

They had done their job well thus far, smoking out various organizations on the planet that served to threaten Sith control - but there would need to be a more immediate military intervention should they intend to bring their absolute control over the world. Whether outright or not, the population of the world was dangerously difficult to control - and must be beaten into submission.​

​

Objective 1: The RWWZ​

Built as an organization thriving off religious zealotry and domestic espionage, they have wiretapped most working information channels on the world, having high powered AI work through every conversation tirelessly. Many of these threats and slanderous conversations had led to simple fines or executions of singular individuals - but there is a rising conspiracy among some of the more powerful on the world.​

​

Corporate entities are in league with a Security General we didn’t have time to deal with - and fortunately, have been baited into a meeting. Most will not be there, but the General and some of hte closest peons will; allowing for us to make a singular strike to capture them.​

​

Objective 2: A Church’s Duty​

The slums of the world have long been disparaged by the powerful - who choose to ignore such struggles in the underbelly of their planet. These youth are radicalized with anger, pitched to strike unless they are given jobs and security - but anger is an aspect of the Sith, and we should not waste it on simple placations. We still have enemies on this world - and we should direct them accordingly.​

​

The Eternal Church and Sepulchral have had a strong effort in spreading the cult’s words to them - and has stirred them into a breaking point. They’ve armed themselves with simple weapons and pistols, but more dangerous than that they’ve formed a riot of flames and blasters - intending to cut down those who had put them under their boot heel for so long.​

​

They march on the old Jedi Enclave - intent on burning it to the ground and killing those who have tried to secure it against us. Inside there are still Jedi, still security forces trying to leave or take back their world. Ensure that the message is clear;​

​

Strength purifies, and it will change this corrupt order for the better.​

​

Objective 3: Capital of the Empire​

Empyrean has done well to secure his political strength - but he now looks outwardly to the other warlords, both rising and established. He has sent invites to the Triumvir’s Empire looking to make connections and diplomacy. Gathering at the temporary capital, a large tower meant to house a local IGBC branch, he has set up a gathering of the greatest Sith in the Order.​

​

Enter, make connections with the rising stars of our Empire - and ensure you are the one that all eyes are looking upon. A dinner, some drinks, and the machinations of the new gods.​

​

Objective 4: BYOO​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

​

A pale man in a dark hood stood on the balconey, declaring with great passion the truths of the Sith - golden eyes looking upon the gathered masses with a great fervor. This self declared Darth Empyrean raised his hands in exasperation, clenching fists as he drove his words into the hearts of men that stood before him;​

​

"Let it not be in doubt, my children!", he continued.​

​

"Our victory in the southern reaches will not slow, will not falter. The Mandalorians, the Trade League, the Eternal Empire, none shall stand before our great strength; and in time, the galaxy will once again bow before the Sith's might. Let them squabble over the worlds we modernized, crafted into powerful economic centers - because when they have turned all we have built to ash, and lost that which made them strong - we will show them what gave them the momentum they so carefully hold onto now."​

​

The crowd cheered in response, a great swath of people lifting their arms, tossing hats - it made one curious how many were true zealots of the Eternal religion, or simple paid actors. Despite the rumors of the latter, none had been proven to be so - but the underground media continued to spread such lies. Even now, those tuned into the broadcast who once enjoyed their influential position on Jutrand cringed and worried - stricken by the rising dogmatic populism in their once great city-world.​

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"They feed lies to your neighbors, tell them we are destruction. Tell them this - we are destruction, but of the old order, of that which has stagnated and died from gross obesity on the strength of the masses. They have convinced you that you are weak, that you will not survive - but we know the truth, that they have created this false vision to keep you down. Rise up, rise up and destroy them for their sins! Let them never deny your strength again!"​

​

---​

​

Darth Empyrean, Dark Lord of the Sith, watched his stand in speak wonderfully with words he had himself written. His spirit had enthralled the vessel with an ounce of his power so that it may speak his true verbage and cadence, but it lacked the true strength of his real form. He did not want the people to see their Dark Lord so visually crippled - as they would not be able to sense just how powerful he was.​

​

A servant finished tying the sash around his stomach, tying the robes onto his person with a gentle force. His upper body could not be covered - the dark side energies emanating from his core tore any fabric placed upon it. It was to be as 'fanciful' as he could manage - but it would do.​

​

He walked from the servants to his beautiful wife, that which named him, that which kept him tethered and alive - Srina Talon .​

​

"How are you doing?", he said with some concern, knowing she wasn't used to being around his corpse form.​

​

"Are you ready?"​

 

[Srina Talon]

| J U T R A N D |
| BALCONY|

Tag: Darth Empyrean
________________________________________________
​

There was a certain flavor of horror in this.

Silver eyes watched the fate of Jutrand, quietly, and with every care the seemingly young woman had to offer. She did not have words. She did not have breath, nor might, to express her newfound understanding of the sheer pandemonium that rolled beneath the surface. Srina had always thought that she sheltered the Confederacy. That she, as a citizen, as a warrior, kept it safe from that which might harm it. In the late moments while she watched the stand-in for the newly minted Dark Lord address a seething crowd—She knew the truth.

The Confederacy had sheltered her.​

The silvery woman was wrapped in the ebony fabric of a velvet sky—To which there was no barrenness more complete. It caused alabaster skin to take on a whiter shade of pale. There was no warmth to her cheeks. No spark, in gun-metal eyes. There was nothing left to lighten the shadows of her face while a reality continued to forge an overlay over the world she knew.

Things had not been the same since Odavessa. She sincerely doubted they ever would be.

This was a reality in which her beloved could not hold her near without the twisting, malevolent darkside, potentially ripping and tearing at her flesh. He had never harmed her in the past but he was not entirely the man she knew. He was many. An entity that bore the softest, sweetest shadow, of the one she had so loving named. Her husband; Yet he was not.

Her glacier gaze drew up from the thriving crowd as Maliphant drew closer, though, she did not look away. Jaw tight, with teeth, lashed together.

Zealotry in any form made her skin crawl.

Srina knew that she should have felt some sort of pride in seeing his dream for the Sith begin to bear fruit—But she could only wonder who this new dream belonged to. Did it belong to Rhysiôn? Or did it belong to the rancid relics that had stolen his heart, his organs, his touch—Away from her? It had never been her dream, to rule with an iron fist. She was not fit for this role.

She was a warrior. She, was Echani. Of moon and ash and blood. Were the dead and dying not the same?

What was this?​

The endlessly graceful creature turned around slowly to face the Dark Lord and the dusky silk-linen that held to her every curve pulled across polished floor with little more than a whisper. His words were insightful. It seemed like something Maliphant would ask. The concern in his tone caused her heart to skip from one beat to the next. If she closed her eyes…

Perhaps she might not see so much red.

"I do not know how to answer that without a lie."

Srina did not know how to respond to either query placed before her. She would be ready—Because that was what he required. Because, these were the vows. Until time stopped. Until the air was missing from her lungs, until, the stars burned themselves completely to dust and beyond that after the final dark when nothing left lived…She would love him. It was irrevocable.

This was a day of dawning, for the Sith. A new beginning. A taste of the future and the power they might one day come to wield if they could only manage to take it. For Srina?

For the corpse, she loved so completely…

It felt like a funeral.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean hesitated, as the living signals in his brain demanded he reach out and comfort her - but his skin was not warm or inviting like it once was, it was calloused, cold, and cracking. He wanted to embrace her, hold her tight and tell her this was all temporary - but it would harm her, his very presence deadly to be around. All he had ever wanted, the infinite power of a Dark Lord - but it had cost him so much.​

​

This was the curse of the Sith, wasn't it? To never feel satiated by growth, that their power could never be enough until they sacrificed everything they held dead in a vain attempt to divinity or pan galactic imperial ambition. Most Sith could abandon their loves and wants strictly for the fear and loathing their presence brought; but Maliphant had never been that Sith.​

​

He had learned that it was connections that would keep him sane, give him strength, give him something to fight for - but now it felt like he had tied her to something she never agreed to. Slavery in a promise, chained to the promise of a life he could no longer provide her.​

​

But he would try.​

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"Never lie, my moon and stars.", he said, even as the dark whispers demanded action.​

​

"I understand how this...", he tried to form the words, but for once found himself at a loss.​

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"I will fix this."​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Braxton Holst]

JUTRAND | OBJECTIVE 1
TAGS: Open

It was likely a very bold, or idiotic, move to venture further into the very edge of the Outer Rim in search of new territory. But after losing any and all contact with a planet as bustling as Jutrand, the Director figured that it was prime real estate to expand beyond just a few dealerships and shops on the planet. Recruits, factories, offices, a proper Hex expansion to capitalize on the disrupted flow of economy.

What he wasn’t expecting was just how damn unpleasant the trip itself would be. In order to get a foot into the door, Braxton had to align himself with some “Security General” to get anywhere. It was during this time as well that Braxton truly learned about what he shoved his foot in. Things were in motion, and he was right in the crosshairs next to the man with the fifteen gallon white hat. Though he remained calm and collected. The Sith were always ambitious opportunists. The Maw was an excellent example of that, and now this resurgent “Sith Order” was sprouting up in the area with a massive following already. In theory, him and the Sith could be best buds. He saw a lot of his own qualities in them.

Whether that was good or bad was still up for debate.

”Tell my escorts to stay with the speeder. There’s no need to spook our visitors, but be ready to move if things turn sour.” Braxton ordered his assistant in an empty hallway. The young woman gave a nod and walked off, clearly nervous about what could potentially happen.

But none of them said a word. None of them let the Security General, or the other corporate entities coming to the meeting, know what was bound to happen. After all, competition only had its uses up to a point.

With nothing else left to do, the Director made his way to the conference room with a calm smile. ”Showtime.”

 

[Srina Talon]

| J U T R A N D |
| BALCONY|

Tag: Darth Empyrean
________________________________________________
​

Everything in her told her to move into him. Regardless, her fate. A few short steps would bring her within the cold circle of his arms, while, being infinitely protected and eternally destroyed. Her skin would crack and peel as his did now. Flesh might rend from bone—But at least then they would be the same. Her eyes closed, squeezed, and she buried the thought. It was borne of weakness.

Selfish—Weakness.

Srina Talon was many things but she was not, nor would she ever be, weak.

A quiet sigh pulled from primrose lips and she tried to let herself uncoil and unwind from a constant state of fight or flight. She was never quite sure who her husband would be if the thousand voices vying for control finally wrestled it from him. Never sure, if it would be the man who loved her or the demon that wanted to cut her throat for sport. Careful fingers reached out to take his. Softly, threading.

Cold and dead—It mattered not.

That much of him, at least, was safe and it was as close as they could be.

“…I am overwhelmed.”

The admission was something she had chewed on in her mind for a moment while he urged her not to lie. If it were just the Empire he had created OR the corpse he had become she might have been able to find her bearings in the madness. Both…Both left her without any purchase or place where she might find anywhere to stand in the eye of a storm. Were there chains around her from this union the pale-skinned woman wore them gladly. It was not her love, she regretted.

Merely the lack of it.

He swore to fix it and an almost saddened smile crossed delicate features. It brought with it an ache that could be felt as if it might split a chest in two. So much to be felt, such tenderness, in one small acceptance. She would rather be with him like this than not have him at all. She was technically a widow, she supposed, but at least the ghost of her most precious one never left her alone.

“I do not know if such things can be fixed. It matters not…”

She breathed.

“I will adjust accordingly, zîrân. (Beloved*)”

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: A Church's Day
Location: Jutrand Jedi Enclave
Equipment: Lightsaber, Dagger, Armor
Tags:
--------------------------------------------

The streets of Jutrand were alight with activity today. Well, alight with activity and some fires here or there. Spurred on by the Sith and emboldened by the destruction of most of the local forces and important figures on the planet, the people had been whipped up into a fury against those that had ruled over them for so long.

It was a thing of beauty really. To see the common folk arise and tear apart the last pockets of resistance on the planet. But of course not every remaining enemy stronghold would be easy to topple with bodies and fury alone.

A Jedi Enclave remained as the last great bastion of resistance and last remnant of the old guard that had ruled and guarded the planet before the Sith arrival. The enclave itself stood out in the city amidst the other tall buildings that reached up to the sky. It had a large open area around it, a courtyard that was now filled with ruined barricades as the remaining defenders retreated inside and left it to the crowds that were demanding their blood. The building itself was fairly large and secure, offering only a handful of possible entrances. But that wouldn't stop the rioters, nothing would by this point.

Now the rioters descended upon it with all their wrath, intent on wiping out the last of their past oppressors and tearing down all that the Jedi had built.

And Alisteri wouldn't miss it for anything. The Sith Knight stood out amidst the crowd of course, even as he walked among them and helped keep their anger directed towards the enclave ahead of them. Their acceptance didn't really matter though. So long as they did their job then he would do his.

Technically his only orders were to ensure that the enclave was raised to the ground and all Jedi inside put down, but he knew that such an assault would come with a high body count for the rioters. They were engaging cornered security forces and Jedi, and not a one was foolish enough to let themselves be captured even if they could be.

The Knight had different plans however. He would spearhead the assault himself, intent on taking the brunt of the fighting and killing before the burning began. With any luck he would leave an impression on those he marched with now, one that would cement their loyalty to the Sith Order.

 

[Arette]

Objective: A Church's Duty
Location: Jutrand Jedi Enclave
Equipment: Lightsaber, Armorweave Longcoat
Tags: Darth Strosius Drako
​

Dammit.

Arette had kind of been hoping she'd be the only one showing up to this party. Stupid? Maybe - this was a Jedi Enclave they were going after, after all, so it would have been, to put it charitably, utterly fething suicidal to rush the place with only a mob to back her up.

Still. Could you blame her? A decade and a half of tutelage under one of the most ornery Blademasters the Sith Empire had ever produced. A cumulative fourteen-thousand-and-six-hundred hours of a training regimen most galactic societies would qualify as torture. Arette was itching to add some field experience to all that time. The presence of the other Sith here meant less blood for her, even if it did mean she was more likely to walk out of this fight alive. Ah, well. She was sure she'd manage to find a fight or three for herself, so long as she didn't just stand back and let the other two hog all the glory for themselves. Speaking of...

Arette turned on her heels, still walking, and faced the cluster of rioters who'd gathered in her orbit. All around her age, most of them a bit younger. Flocking to the Sith they thought would pay them the most attention, maybe? Armed with blaster pistols, vibroknives, a few slugthrowers. A few lucky ones had improvised explosives in their bags - if that wasn't just bluster to impress the scary Sith in the crowd, at least. And not a one with the training to back up the bloodlust she felt rolling off of them.

"Alright, kids. Couple more minutes and it's party time. Don't be karking stupid. We don't have a use for idiots or corpses. Leave the Jedi to us, you focus on the jackboots. Torso shots - don't try anything fancy. You," Arette, grinning, gestured to one of the younger looking ones. Seventeen? Maybe. Sixteen was more likely. "Careful with those. You huck a bomb at me, and you'll wish you'd just pissed off a Jedi. Once me, the Revan look-alike over there, and the dragon riding freak roll through, you sweep behind us, finish off anyone still breathing. Any of you survive, find me after the fight. Gotta go talk shop."

Arette didn't wait for a response. Instead, she turned around again. Weaved her way through the crowd. She was fast, even moving through a mob, and fluid with how she moved.

Alisteri, meanwhile, would suddenly find himself standing uncomfortably close to a tall, lanky looking woman with corpse-grey skin and hair the color of rotting straw. She grinned at him, and her eyes simmered sulfur-yellow around the edges. Next to him, she looked almost like a stickbug. Taller, but far lankier, more fragile looking.

"Moving up to the head of the crowd. You've been inching closer to the front since the riot started moving. Wanna throw yourself at the enemy first. Gotta wonder - just bloodthirsty, or something to prove?"

​

​

​

 

[Drako]

Objective: 2
Tags: Darth Strosius Arette
Equipment: Uvak, Power Lance, Lightsaber Pike, Vibro-knife

---

Prelude...
Drako had been drawn to the planet of Jutrand by an inexplicable feeling. A near literal magnetism towards the galactic south. He was not naive to what this portended to, it was the Force showing him his next path. It took him weeks but in the end he had navigated his way from the north to the south without being intercepted by pirates, privateers, or other bothersome forces enforcing inconsequential borders. When Drako had finally made it to the surface of the planet he was met by the blackout. In due time he would make himself known. In the time from then to the present his minion, the Vigils of Drako, had set up a rudimentary hideout on the outskirts of the capitol.

Present...
As the Sith Knight was strapped into the saddle of the Uvak he put out his right hand, and dutifully one of his minions placed the Power Lance. The lengthy weapon was held vertically and rested on the metal clad thigh of Drako. The saddle was large and stretched down the back of the Uvak, and on its left side was holstered a Light Saber Pike. With a slight nudge of Drako's heel into Hask's side the large creature lumbered forward and began to stretch its wings "I shall return, keep on your guard until I do so." he instructed his minions who gave him a bow or nod their heads, they were rather varied from their expressions to their gestures but all wore the same signifying uniforms.

Hask began to move forward and then when it had reached a brisk pace, extended both of its wings, and with a mighty push the duo took to bleak skies. Rising on the warm currents of the metropolis the Sith Knight soared above the streets and airspeeder traffic, soon locating the mass of individuals making their way towards the Jedi Temple. Drako directed Hask with a subtle motion. Both rider and Uvak went into a steep dive as the beast tucked its wings backward and the, as they neared the riotous crowd, then pulled out of the dive. Like a gale the creature brought strong winds behind it as it passed just yards above the crowd and the other Sith Knight. Drako could sense the presence of another and it was almost as if time slowed, though it was really the supernatural senses of the Force Sensitives, as he turned his head and looked down to lock eyes with Darth Strosius. Drako's tell-tale eyes nearly blazed in their yellow glint from the shade of his visor. So filled with the liberating power of riding such a creature into battle, who would not feel unassailable?

While the moment may have been longer between the perceptions of the two Sith, in reality the moment was as fleeting as Hask was swift. The Uvak was making way towards the Temple, and loosed a thunderous roar.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"Empyrean has taken this opportunity to pose and posture on the backs of our work, but we have dealt with peacocks before."

A gathering far less grand, yet crowded.

Hooded figures stood and sat shoulder to shoulder in a dimly lit room and watched the Dark Lady of the Sith speak. Publicly there were three: Three triumvirs in contest. To those who gathered here, there was only one: The Tsis'kaar. The figures nodded and spoke in hushed voices in the pause left by the Dark Lady.

"Tonight, we make our mark on the streets of Jutrand."

Among those gathered were Sith, but also security officers, public officials, pillars of the community excused from their public appearances. Each had presented their left hand and upon the calling of the Dark Lady, shown the mark of their allegiance.

"My apprentice is already assailing the last of the Jedi, and the temple will be marked with our symbol, our wreath of triumph."

A collective rush of sound, short but loud. The cellar space kept the sound from leaking out. In addition, the many connected tunnels gave them numerous ways to enter and leave, all guarded by Sith of the Tsis'kaar. The guardians were quiet and stoic, armoured in black and watching with yellow eyes.

"With the spilling of unfaithful blood, the ouroboros will encircle Jutrand and every world from here to the Core." Another wave of sound. "We will eclipse them."

Another.

"We are the true Sith, and we. will. prevail!"

Hands lashed into the air, palms turned an inky black except for the white ring in its middle. Darth Ophidia returned the gesture by raising her own obsidian palm. The waves of sound became a continuous rush of voices and claps, like the crashing of a waterfall washing over the Dark Lady of the Sith.

Her hands folded at her abdomen as she watched her rabid followers.

"Disperse, my faithful ones!"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Tyrant stalked through shadowed corridors like a slavering anooba, a grim portent that smelled of death and whispered of promised violence. Armored boots came down with resounding force, heralding His approach long before He could be seen. Had He so wished, He could have moved without a sound, gliding over the ground like a grisly specter. But He wanted His adversaries to know that He was here, the trudging of His boots through their halls accompanied by the shrill scraping of His bladed cloak across the floor.

His body was tightly bound in overlapping bands of dark metal, a skeletal carapace encapsulating His entire body below the neck. Only His hands and head were left bare, but portions of the metal armor were covered in weathered fabric so that it resembled the vestments of the Sith Order. To the more acute observer, one would notice the faintest evidence of rot peeking out from beneath the armor at the neck and wrists; the consequences of an unlife steeped in the powers that lurked in the galaxy's darkest recesses.

Such was the price paid, in blood and bone.

He'd never been to Jutrand prior to today, only having come now to bare witness to the Worm-Heir's farce. None dared stand in His path, and at His back shuffled the red-robed clerics of the Dzunkissai. The Dark Lord rarely traveled beyond the purview of His domain without the Dzunkissai trailing in the wake of His shadow. They were His truthspeakers, able to discern the intention of another from a glance, a powerful ability that the Dark Lord lacked; His shielded mind preventing any and all probes from entering or exiting.

They were especially useful in this den of vipers, whose honeyed words concealed the bitterest of poisons. His sheer presence would be enough to ward off the weakest among them, but those of actual ability, far beyond that of a novitiate, would not be so frightened. His servants, slaves in all but name, would ensure that He would know His enemy's intentions. Among them were others of the Dark Lord's entourage, apprentices such as Neyana , and bureaucratic functionaries deemed necessary to travel alongside His Excellency.

The door opened at His approach, leading to the antechamber butting against the balcony where Darth Empyrean and Srina Talon were located. Carnifex watched the two of them with searing cold eyes, twin halos of molten hate peering out from pools of darkness.

Nothing need be spoken, His piercing gaze spoke volumes.

 

[Quintessa]

Location: IGBC Tower - Jutrand
Objective: Capital of the Empire
Equipment: Pulsiva Bodysuit (No Helmet) │ Dancer’s Wheels │ Spirit Anchor │ Amulet of Many
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Tags: Open │ Darth Carnifex

​

The greatest and most promising Sith of the Empire, all gathered in one place.

It had all the workings of a trap, but the Dark Lord Himself had invited her to join His retinue to the event, and so, Quintessa had come. Fortunately, she had not been given any particular assignment, other than to serve as an extension of His presence, allowing her God to see through her eyes as needed.

However, given His towering stature and limitless telepathic reach, there was not much Quintessa could divine that He couldn’t as well.

As such, for her part, the Quintessa took advantage of the opportunity to mingle with those from other sects, for it was a rare privilege afforded only to the most promising of Kainate Sith, those who might benefit from being exposed to teachings and individuals outside of the Order. She had already established a small number of connections, but there were still many others she could find whose acquaintance might prove beneficial.

Having entered the tower in her Dark Lord’s retinue, Quintessa had since slipped away while He attended to important matters, no doubt too arcane for one such as her. Instead, Quintessa moved to the lounge, her cyan gaze scanning across the area as they searched for any Sith who might prove…useful!

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean wanted to reassure her - to say that his words always came true, that he would ensure it with his entire being that it would be fixed. While once that may have been true, he had lied to her unwittingly - told her he would not die, and yet here he stood, a corpse. Perhaps it wasn't entirely true, he did still live - but this unlife was hardly the life they wanted for eachother.​

​

He couldn't offer her another uncertainty, not again. So instead he raised her hand and kissed the back of her hand. Tender as it was, it still felt cold - so he did the only thing he could still offer with warmth. His force spirit, his strength wrapped around hers in a warm embrace through their bond - she would feel him, his emotion, his passion, but she would know it was his warmth.​

​

Only when the presence of Darth Carnifex was noticed did it dull, forcing him to look towards the entrance to the hall to the twice-Emperor and his cadre. Empyrean had none of such, besides the party of sycophants and Eternal loyalists already in the hall - but gathered with them were a dozen more prospective warlords. Anyone with a claim on strength was here, attempting to find their place in the hierarchy - but none had the reputation or strength of the Triumvirs, such as Carnifex and Empyrean.​

​

The gaze Carnifex offered was dark and violent, tempered with hate - but Empyrean offered none of it back. On the contrary he seemed rather calm to the violence eminating off of Carnifex, which drove a small grin to Empyrean.​

​

"Darth Carnifex.", he offered simply.​

​

"Welcome - I am glad one of the triumvirs could appear. This is my wife - though I'm sure she need no introduction."​

​

Empyrean motioned to the woman he held hands with - a verifiable legend in the Galaxy, just as they both were. The Dark Lord glanced at the gathered, from Neyana to Quintessa - his own gaze as harsh as their own master, but without the tempered dulling one might expect. Instead it was piercing and fiery off presence alone.​

​

"Do you know where the snake has gone, by chance? I understand she is on my planet, yet she hasn't ordained me a visit. Curious."​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

| J U T R A N D |
| BALCONY|

Tag: Darth Empyrean | Darth Carnifex | (Possibly Quintessa & Neyana )
________________________________________________
​

Srina knew that Maliphant did what he could.

Pale primrose lips pressed into a ghost of a smile when he kissed the back of her hand. Part of her thought to warn him. Being so demonstrative in public would likely present the rest of the congregation with idyllic thoughts on how best to strike him down. Their union had been kept private and on a need-to-know basis for a distinct reason. The Sith as a collective had evolved, But they were still Sith at their core. They would bleed and seize authority from each other by any means necessary.

She was, in essence, a loose end. An easy target.

“You shouldn’t…”, she breathed, but the caution in her tone filtered away to silence when his presence swept around her. The cold had never bothered Srina, not truly, because her clan had an intense affinity for ice but she would have been lying to say that his spirit didn’t move her frozen heart. Another, touch of madness. He made her too emotional by half when they needed to be unified strength. “…The Dark Lord of Sith must be a tempest. Strong. Empty, but for the force of his gale.”

Her words were barely audible, though, Srina could already feel the truth of him receding back into his shell—And with it the looming presence of a Triumvir sweeping in. Rather than feel entirely smothered and broken by the intensity of such oppressive dark the white-haired woman began to settle into herself. The descending cloud was something she was most familiar with. It was pure, even though using such a word to describe it was heretical at best. She knew how to react to that. Knew, to drink it in and welcome it akin to a long-lost lover.

That was most Jedi's mistake when crossing blades with their Sith brethren.

Fighting, the Darkside.

Resisting.

The seemingly delicate daughter of the moon turned toward the former-Emperor she had once met on Kessel and silver eyes met those that were filled with hate. So much passion for something so small. She did not hold the same ambitions as her other half, nor, had she ever sought more power than what seemed to come to her naturally. She did not require an army, fleet, or thousands of sycophants to worship at her feet. This was not her dream. Nor, her mission.

Her machinations were her own. None needed waste thought to it—For they would never know.

Srina remained silent while her husband made introductions. Her blank expression mimicked that of the stone statues that decorated the halls and her slate grey eyes gave away nothing. Not a whisper, nor, any inclination toward what she might have been thinking. She was of no import and the negative energy lingering in the room almost seemed to make her comfortable. Srina, of all things, was more than used to being hated.

Unlike her male counterparts in the room, and some of the others, her presence in the force was muted. Shielded in such a way that it almost felt like she wasn’t force-sensitive at all. Standing between Carnifex and Maliphant was like being eclipsed by twin suns and pressed into oblivion. It was deliberate for several reasons, but, none so obvious as the fact that she had no designs on the throne.

The Echani remained unbothered with many a thing, but she did take issue with Darth Carnifex staring at them with such intensity. She had only ever been beheld in such a fashion by those that wished to kill her, or, those that wished for... “Come, my Lord…”, she beckoned, delicately, as if the words were carried on first vestiges of a frosty evening. Srina could not yet decide what to call him. Carnifex, Darth…It was ironic that her thoughts still nodded toward him as an Emperor. It was folly. There could not be two Kings. “I have not set eyes to you in many moons…You needn’t remain out in the cold.”

She knew that both Maliphant and Carnifex had tried to end one another.

They would not do that here. Not, today.

“I’m sure that your snake has her reasons. Perhaps—”, Srina trailed off as she glanced back toward her beloved, finding it interesting, but not entirely worrisome. Not yet. “—She has found a rat to devour.”

Or perhaps, she was shedding her skin.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: A Church's Day
Location: Jutrand Jedi Enclave
Equipment: Lightsaber, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Arette / Drako

The Knight's gaze swept over the walls of the enclave as the riot marched on towards it, soon starting to fill up the open courtyard around the building. The enclave itself wasn't very fortified compared to other strongholds across the planet of course, not in terms of the outside anyway. Breaking in to the temple would be where the blood would start spilling. He could only guess at what defenses they had managed to cobble together inside.

His musing was interrupted by a sudden shift and arrival at his side. Alisteri turned his head to look at who had sidled up so close to him, having to look up slightly, and raised an eyebrow at the pale woman. Well, pale was a bit of an understatement. Her remark and presence had caught him off-guard for a moment of course but he was quick to respond with a shrug.

"It can't be bloodthirsty and practical? The Jedi will be throwing themselves ahead of the remaining guard forces in their little show of 'honor' or 'compassion' or whatever it is they tell themselves. I see no point in letting them carve into the ranks before putting them down." He wouldn't deny that he was itching to stab a Jedi or two.

What Sith wasn't? That had to be the reason that this woman was here after all, she certainly didn't look like just another rioter at any rate. And then his attention, as well as the attention of a fair bit of the crowd, was drawn to something that caused a heavy gust of wind from somewhere above them.

Alisteri looked up and his eyes widened at the sight of some flying beast that soared above the rioters. Not only that, but someone was saddled atop it. His gaze narrowed as he peered up at the rider, his stride pausing for just a moment as their eyes met. Now that one was definitely not a local. His gaze followed the creature as it flew over them and let out a roar, soaring for the enclave ahead.

"Well..." He glanced at Arette. "That was new. I wonder which reason he's here for?"

With a shrug he pulled his lightsaber from his hip into his hand and nodded to the enclave. "Looks like its a race to the Jedi after all. Try and keep up will you?" He didn't wait for a response, instead breaking out into a sprint for the large stone doors that kept the enclave sealed from the rioters.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"The Lady of Beasts dines not on rats," thundered Carnifex's voice, slicing through all other sounds. Rarely did He refer to Ophidia by the nomenclature bestowed upon her by the Order of the Beast, where He was known as the Destroyer, but His words were deliberately chosen. He stepped closer, drawing back the hood that had covered His head. Despite the encroaching rot that lingered just beneath the boundaries of His banded armor, the Butcher King still cut an impressive and deadly figure.

"But on her own kind, the serpents that slither upon and below the earth." The Dark Lord's entourage meandered out into the room, occupying the periphery rather than crossing the meridian of where their Lord stood. His words, though mystified by metaphor, would be plain as starlight to one such as Darth Empyrean; a Lord who was intimately familiar with the Machiavellian politicking of Sith and their heinous brood. His eyes, so intense in their hatred, swept from Empyrean to the smaller woman at his side, one that the Dark Lord had met before so many years ago.

"It has been too many moons since we last met face-to-face, revered Lady. A pity that it could not be under more agreeable circumstances, but such are the conditions we find ourselves in." A brief flicker of a glance back to Empyrean, then His gaze was fixed back on Lady Talon. "But I do profess that this Sithmoot will be... enlightening, one way or another."

Darth Empyrean | Srina Talon
Neyana | Quintessa ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean sneered at that, letting his voice drop a touch in volume only to raise in its potency -​

​

"Then perhaps the 'Lady of Beasts' should learn who's planet she is on, as per our agreement, lest I show her not all prey is so easy to threaten."​

​

The metal eyes of his grew their own intensity then, more than a simple stare. It wasn't an attack, but Darth Carnifex and his cadre would feel the pressure of their stare - like a gun pointed to the temple. They were weapons, more potent than any eyes in the galaxy - even the spy networks of his opponents.​

​

"And you shall watch your tone before me and mine, Darth Carnifex. It is not too late to end what we started..."​

​

He could feel Srina's push on him to be softer in his tone, and usually he would - but the voices of a thousand Sith roared inside of him to tear flesh asunder. It was harder now than ever to truly hold himself accountable, to keep that calm even when every bone in his body demanded he strike someone - because that wasn't his voice demanding it, but the unnatural darkness kept in him, like a prison. The Worm Emperor still lived, deep down, and he waited for that moment to break his containment.​

​

Empyrean exhaled carefully, relaxed his gaze, and spoke once more - in a far more even tone;​

​

"Besides, I did not ask you and the others here for conflict. I came to propose standardization - to settle our infrastructural differences before the rest of the Galaxy can try and pull from us what we've earned."​

​

Srina Talon // Darth Carnifex // Neyana // Quintessa​

 

[Arette]

Objective: A Church's Duty
Location: Jutrand Jedi Enclave
Equipment: Lightsaber, Armorweave Coat
Tags: Darth Strosius Drako​

Arette simply smiled at Alisteri's response to her question. She gave no response; anything she might want to learn about this man she'd learn from seeing him fight, not hearing him talk. She certainly wasn't just any rioter - Alisteri had gotten that right. Moved too calmly. Not angry enough, either - she seemed more excited than anything else. Not angry. Hardly even malicious - no more malicious, at least, than anyone else looking for a good fight. She hardly acted like the stereotypical image of a Sith, but if nothing else, the lightsaber at her confirmed her status.

When the Uvak swooped down, the young Sith twitched, ever so slightly - she'd caught a glimpse of the thing a second or two earlier, figured it was one of theirs, but still, she'd be lying if seeing it swoop down a few yards above them didn't give her a bit of a fright. Just a bit, though.

A little quip, it seemed, and then Alisteri was off, sprinting ahead - hoping to get the lion's share of the carnage all to himself, no doubt.

Well, not if Arette had anything to say about it. The young Sith's grin grew wide as she set off after the Knight at full sprint, a crimson jet of plasma roaring to life in her hand as soon as she broke away from the crowd. The girl was fast, too, gaining on and overtaking the Knight by a few feet despite his head start.

"So!" Arette yelled to her companion, keeping her focus foward - last thing she needed was for a stray blaster bolt to clip her in the skull because she was indulging in banter. "Don't think you can outrun me, 'less we want to see who burns out from Speed sooner." Again, no hint of malice - she sounded almost playful, like this was a game rather than a chance to destroy a hated enemy. "So I figure we just agree to split whatever the cavalry up there doesn't take, yeah?"

 

[Drako]

Objective: 2
Tags: Darth Strosius Arette
Equipment: Uvak, Power Lance, Lightsaber Pike, Vibro-knife

---

As the Sith Knight approached the the Enclave, there could be no mistaking his intent nor his alignment. The Jedi defenders ignited their lightsabers at a distance as they manned the upper levels of the building alongside security forces armed with blasters. Soon a flurry of blaster bolts of varying colors and sizes tore through the sky like miniature comets. Several bolts connected with the Uvak's armorweave caparison and singed deep into the surface of the armoring though ultimately failed to harm the beast beneath the crimson fabric. Drako's head turned so that his eyes would be able to stay trained on those that were more exposed, he trusted that Hask would be able to fly without much guidance.

The duo looped around the enclave entirely, using their orbiting pattern to make it harder for the defenders to land anymore hits or concentrate their fire elsewhere - such as the approaching Sith Knight and Apprentice. Drako spied a moment of weakness from one of the Jedi as he continued the maneuver, a cool sense of surety and eagerness flowed through his veins. The Jedi had turned her back so that she would be able to face the oncoming crowd, attempting to dissuade them from their approach "Stop!" she spoke with amplified volume from the Force "Return to your homes, none need die tod-" the Jedi Knight was gruesomely impaled by the lengthy Power Lance as Drako flew overhead from behind, and carried off into the murk with a cry of pain. Her green lightsaber fell from her grip after a few feet of forward momentum and then lethally spun downwards into the crowd to an unknown end. Drako's grip on the lance slackened so that it drooped in his arms, easy enough to do with the added weight of the slain Jedi Knight, until her lifeless body slid off the shaft. The Sith looked over his shoulder towards the Enclave and crowd, attempting to see what the other two Sith would do.

Back at the Enclave the security members near where the Jedi had once been and then seemingly vanished in a blink, looked between one another with horror "You two!" sternly called one of their peers "Pull it together, start shooting or we're all going to end up like her!" he motioned towards the crowd. The two guards aimed downwards towards the crowd and began to shoot down into them as they trudged up the steps.

 

[Srina Talon]

| J U T R A N D |
| BALCONY|

Tag: Darth Empyrean | Darth Carnifex
________________________________________________​

The slender creature raised a singular brow at being corrected so brazenly, but it soon softened to something that was almost fond. The deep bellowing voice of Darth Carnifex that filled the room was not unfamiliar. It was not the volume that struck the bones, but power, laced in every syllable. He was used to being obeyed without question—Believed. So was she. "Vermin are vermin…", she sighed with lilting disinterest, while listening to her husband and guest bandy about words, like the sharpest of vile weapons. She was nigh gentle when she interrupted. "Regardless, dearest, my Lord… We can all agree for different reasons that It is probably for the best. Neither snake nor rat has ever taken kindly to a Talon. They are indeed in luck this eve that cannibalism is all they must fear."

The former Emperor of the Sith was not the only one who could twist words to his will. In the end—It was better that the Lady of Beasts fall upon their ilk, than herself. It would always be better.

Srina had little love for politics, exactly none, but she wasn't blind to it. While she watched the Sith play their games, just like the Viceroyalty once had, it made her feel like a den mother of an entire brood of angry children. Little royals, little demons, vying and fighting for the throne using every measure of trickery, blackmail, intrigue, and killing they could muster. Her solution to many things revolved around swift, cruel, decisiveness. There was no room for consideration or conciliation and Srina had long since accepted that she was too blunt a weapon to make a decent politician. Whether they were snake, rat, or anything else between—Should they not at least value their lives or the boots they licked?

If not, she accepted that decision with perfect understanding. It was also something that would be swiftly rectified. For some, the kiss of death was an occasionally painful inconvenience. But for most? It was final. It was that finality, that would aid in control and reinforce the newly risen order.

And thusly, allow her saber, her wrath to rest.

The pale woman could feel a storm rising in Darth Empyrean and quietly sought to soothe the maelstrom. He was more in control, more himself, when she was present. Carnifex seemed to bring about the worst in him and it didn't seem to be a one-way hyperplane. They grated on one another like wild things. She was loath to be that which must exist between them, to buffer, but their third was not present. She had little choice. "If you keep worrying after Darth Ophidia , nin meleth, I may begin to wonder. Shall I procure the Lady for you?"

It was doubtful that Maliphant would send her from his side in a nest of vipers, but the simple cold tones with which she spoke would hide the subtle jest beneath it. Jealousy was not a color or shade that Srina knew existed. It was something that would lessen the edge of the Worm Emperor within. His brethren did not seem to believe he deserved the station he had claimed. That was fair. All may have their beliefs—But it would become his duty to manage the deceptive web. If he wished to lead?

Then it must be so. From above, in this black atrium, so should it be below, in the streets.

Silvery eyes slipped from Maliphant for the moment and focused once more on @Darth Carnifex. His greeting toward her had been almost pleasant compared to how he addressed her husband. "I can see that we have both changed. We should speak, if your ears are willing to suffer my words. I do travel often…But someone with your reach should have little difficulty finding me."

The invitation was there, though, posed cleverly with a challenge. The choice to publicly rebuke her or remain in a quietly undisturbed ceasefire while events unfolded. The threat that Darth Empyrean had issued was not lost or her nor was the very elaborate trap that their third put an end to. The flaxen-haired woman gently untangled her fingers from her beloved and moved to pour both men a glass of wine, while she, filled her crystal goblet with some sort of chilled tea. She might have been the only one in the room capable of appreciating it fully, or at all, but she required that they put down their animosity.

The refreshments were symbolic more than anything else.

Dark eyelashes fluttered against pale cheeks while she offered her husband a goblet first. He would always be, first, in all things. Then, Srina moved to Carnifex. "There will be no continuation today of the two of you trying to kill each other. Despite your differences, I would request that you both reign in your collective distaste while in my proximity. Infrastructure and standardization will benefit all no matter who controls this world or any other. The zealotry and fanatics won't be of any consequence if your government is not settled—If leadership is fractured. You won't be able to withstand attacks and rebellions from within let alone from outside."

Srina fell silent, next. She had often been the person sent to deal with diplomatic issues though she hadn't the faintest idea why. She frowned at the prospect. Her words were the furthest from disrespectful toward either but her tone left no room for argument. It was the nature of Sith to fight amongst one another. It was the reason she didn't take more offense that Carnifex had tried to kill her husband. Birds flew, fish swam, and Sith chased for power the only way they knew how.

"I still long for your stories of old, Darth Carnifex. Perhaps you will tell me one day.", she breathed, slowly, drawing away whether he accepted her offering or not. His entourage didn't seem particularly interested in her nor she in them. That didn't mean her guard had dropped in the slightest. "If you remember me from Kessel as well as I recall you…You will know that I do not lie. I implore you to grasp that Darth Empyrean, belongs to me. To get to him…You must go through me."

Her eyes grew quiet, then. Almost saddened, though, that wasn't quite the word for it. Her head turned toward the balcony where the crowds still cheered and chanted so loudly below that all she heard was white noise.

"I do hope you understand…I do not wish to go through you in return."