Private Prophet and the Priestess

[Lirka Ka]

Post


Sith ate each other alive, it was merely the way of things. Egos clashed, festered and bubbled like rancid pustules. But that was the fuel, it was the ravenous cannibalism that kept these servants of darkness alive. The gears churned, pushed forward by self-serving machinations, delusions of grandeur, and the illustrious call of enlightenment denied. Indeed, it made for a savage sort. They murdered their own as much as their foes.

Lirka Ka had made quite a business dabbling in that fact.

The monstrous once-Sephi had placed her lot behind many a lord, and reaped many the benefits. She had been among the Kainate menagerie for decades in some form or fashion - be it from the Empire before, or the current situation they found themselves in. Far from a beloved role, the Slavemaster General was. With the prestige of shackles came enemies numberless - yet, there was a potentiality most strong. The return of that institution most cruel, the mightiest paragon of suffering that could ever be inflicted upon the Galaxy's hapless.

The gears were already in motion, new banners waved in secret. The machinations of the Sith took new forms - powers rising. A triad of dark intent that silently festered as the newest, chain bound, disease of their order. It was only proper for a beast like Lirka to put her lot behind this newest menace - indeed, she was one of its vectors. Those who would come to understand there was no true freedom in this Galaxy. Only suffering and struggle.

Those who would stand in rather stark opposition to Darth Strosius and his Wonosa rabble. Violence between that lot and the wider Order was far from uncommon, it was all but a fact of existence now. The supreme nuisance and his sycophants. The sort of trouble making that drew eyes and ire alike, most importantly, the ire of Lirka's "dear" ally Darth Nefaron - it was time to stake her claim in their little scuffle over the matter of the assassins.

The trap was laid, honey to draw the flies. A rabble of murderous slavers, hunting too close to the blackwall. Plundering the hapless of Wild Space on a world unremarkable and unnamed, little more than farmers blinded to the grandiose evil mere light years away. The suffering of shackles, unholy barbarity meant to rouse the zealot to wake. It had been a long time since the prophet and the beast had clashed - much had changed, some could say they were all but unrecognizable from this fledgling days. But today was to be a day of blood, and statement.

Now…all that mattered was if he'd take the bait. Come to the rescue of the meager and bring about the demise of scum. While the monstrous Once-Sephi lay in wait, stalking, watching, a patient void ready to make her violent declaration of supposed-allegiance.

 

[Darth Strosius]

There was no shortage of enemies to be faced, that much had been a certainty since Darth Strosius first joined with the Sith. The Blackwall was a deterrent for most, a challenge for some, but by now it was a simple certainty for all. The Sith Order's tool of defense and division which concealed their dealings from the wider galaxy and which kept all sectors and worlds which fell prey to them from receiving or even simply calling for aid from their neighbors or interplanetary authorities.

Yet with certainty came a sort of comfort and mundanity that allowed those beyond its reach to see it as another obstacle to be used to their own advantage. Such was what these slavers seemed to be doing now. Chasing convoys and flotillas and pinning them against the Blackwall so that they could be captured all the easier. A rather clever tactic it had to be said. What a shame that they chose to do so within the purview of the Order of Wonosa's scouts.

Darth Strosius had wasted no time in moving to intercept these slavers before they could make off with their prey, seeking to make use of their own tactics to smash the rabble against the Blackwall and set their captives loose. A fairly textbook operation which any competent Wonosan commander could have accomplished of course but given the proximity to Sith space only the Prophet Himself could really pursue it. Having His followers drift too close to Sith space was a danger that they could ill afford to risk.

No doubt the Kainate was still looking to give a proper reprisal for His rescue of Revna and threatening of their wretched Dyarchs, not to mention the countless other Sith who would seek to score some victory against Him just to show off their loyalty to the powers that be within the wider Order. His presence was a necessity to ensure that the operation went off without a hitch from within the Blackwall, although it would be a lie to say that He didn't at all enjoy personally seeing the demise of sinners as vile as slavers.

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

To be a slaver was to understand life was a commodity. A thing that is bought, sold, and expended. The rabble Lirka Ka had heralded here to the middle of nowhere most certainly would be expended today - they were a pitiful sort, bullies that crumbled in the wake of anything remotely capable of putting up a decent fight back. The honeyed sensation of the easy kill, and butchery of the hated scum of the Galaxy. She was kind enough to offer Darth Strosius that much till the time came for the coup de grace.

So came death, a thing of little note to ones such as them. Who fought and killed as easily as they breathed. The death of scum not even worthy of a footnote in the annals of skirmishes and scuffles that plagued the existence of a Sith. There was a plodding sort of patience that came with a trap well laid, the savage raiders would be in the muck and more of this world-unnamed. Lirka was far from dull enough to merely try and leave the Wonosan prophet to freeze in the void in an orbital brawl. No, they would battle with blade in hand. And he would know that the time of change had come.

As slavers died, and murderous intent swelled. Victory should have been all but assured - till the buzzing came.

Internal buzzing of insectoid wings growing louder and louder with each passing moment. Then came blaster fire from the tree line, a wild barrage of poor accuracy meant far more as statement than any quickly devastating blow. Following it came the thunderous appearance of a great many of Nefaron’s wretched creations. Through the swelling chaos as the locust swarm burst forth to turn this operation into anarchy, two glowing slit lenses burned from the darkness of their hiding place. The slow mechanical whir of mechanizations and the heavy thump of metal boots upon soil. Lirka Ka had come. The void of her being emanating in unholy proclamation - she wasted no time to begin prattling away. The boastfulness of a trap well laid - and the obnoxious pridefulness that came alongside.

“And like flies to honey, comes the chainbreakers!”

Her steps were casual, yet there was a caution behind them. Helix had been kind enough to offer her a sliver of Voidstone upon their meeting in Otherspace, but only a sliver it was. A meager shield at best. There was a cautious tact needed when dabbling against Darths, it had years long enough that she knew Darth Strosius would not let her hammer his face to red jelly this go around.

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

The slavers were of little consequence or issue overall, just another band of scum that only knew how to fight against civilians and little else. They were ill prepared for the arrival of the Wonosan force, just a few squads with Darth Strosius at the head. More than enough to eliminate the surprised slavers. Really the presence of the Sith Lord was overkill, as He knew it would be, but it was more about the message of sheer punishment rather than the simple need for success. All who would violate Sith space were to be put down and any who practiced slavery were dead men walking already.

The Legionnaires had made short work of the landing zone of the slavers, letting their Prophet chase what few fled into the trees and cut them down Himself without much delay or fanfare. Quick work all things considered. As one squad stormed the ship to finish off the last of the slavers before they had the chance to lift off, the rest secured the little clearing and waited as Darth Strosius picked His way back through the brush to return to them. He had just stepped back into the clearing when He sensed something very wrong indeed.

A headache suddenly wracked His mind, bringing His stride to a pause as He pressed a hand to the side of His helmet and winced. His "wings" shriveled as something seemed to press against His presence within the Force, followed shortly by a discordant buzzing. "Contact!" Blaster fire ripped through the treeline and made the Legionnaires scramble for what little cover the clearing could offer, returning fire as they ran and then laying down barrages towards their new foe as strange insectoid creatures emerged and began to swarm the area.

Darth Strosius muttered a curse under His breath and wasted no time in swinging, cutting a passing bug in half as He turned to try and determine where they were coming from. Beneath His visor a glare settled on the armored form marching across the way, both blades being drawn into His hands as He scowled. "Kainite filth!" He wasted no time in dashing across the way to close the gap between them, freely slicing at any of the creatures which dared to swoop low and close enough to Him.

The Legionnaires were outnumbered and surrounded but such was an all too common predicament for them, they could hold against the insects while He cut down their main threat. Evidently today was going to be a lot more complicated than He would have liked. Oh well, He got to spill Kainite blood so it was worth it He supposed.

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

Death reeked in the air. Lirka breathed it in deeply, taking in that sweet aroma of life snuffed out. Meager, pitiful, things spent like currency. The slavers died well, their pockets as dry and empty. Heads filled with worthless promises of grandeur from the honeyed temptations of a butcher. Their blood would stain this world, their bodies would be left here to rot. Nobody would care. Just another soul down the drain, brought back to the Primordial Darkness from which all things came.

Slowly did Lirka Ka walk. She did not fear - Lirka Ka knew no fear. Today was to be a day of bloodletting, the statements of allegiance and the awakening of monsters. With the deafening buzz of insectoid wings around her, Nefaron’s beasts too would be spent. They would kill and they would die, and both would feel the surging bloodlust that simmered within the Once-Sephi’s monstrous frame. And in a similarly plodding pace did she let her blade unfurl itself, clicking and clacking as the electro-plasma filament roared to life to match the blades of Darth Strosius

Then, she stopped. There was no need to press the offensive against the Sith Lord’s charging frame. She let his words wash over her, and she laughed. That thing that was most thunderous and humorless.

“Strosius. What a joyous existence the simple-minded life must be. So predictable. So singleminded. A true zealot.”

She took stance, feet spread and planted. Letting another clawed hand grasp the secondary hilt of her machete as she braced the massive thing - waiting for the tempo to be set by her foe before bursting into violence once more.

“Kainite. Eternalist. Tsis’Kaar. Were it ever so simple.”

The Sith were an ever evolving bunch. And now? Now there was something new to be added to the fray.

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

His opponent had time to prepare herself for His assault but it hardly mattered, Darth Strosius intended to shatter her all the same. In spite of the heavy robes adorning His frame He was surprisingly quick but with all the strength and mass that His form implied behind the strike that He moved to make. From His charge He practically pounced forward to meet the, rather oversized in His opinion, blade of His opponent by bringing both of His to bear. Clearly He thought this would be a rather quick affair.

Darth Strosius practically slammed His blades against that of the Imperator, sword and lightsaber both flashing through the air as He grunted under His breath when He landed from His little maneuver. "How dreadful the life of a pet must be, so ignorant and restrained." There was a palpable venom to His words as one might expect, albeit they seemed to hold somewhat more of an edge to them given the literal edged weapons that He was wielding against her at the moment.

"I can't wait to mail your skull back to the Malsheem in a box!" Darth Strosius's strikes were heavy yet quick, putting His full force behind trying to knock Lirka's blade out of the way so that He could deliver one of the heavy blows to her body properly. As though He was intent on simply beating her to death. Perhaps some part of Him was, if only to repay the mangled state that she left Him in following their last clash. That had been a pain to heal in more ways than one and He intended to inflict that pain back on the Imperator tenfold before He let her die.

Lirka Ka