Private RELIQUIIS

[Reliquiis]

SOME TIME JUST AFTER THE CONQUEST OF THE DEEP CORE...

PART I​

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Aboard the Soothsayer Heresiarch-Class Battlecruiser
Outer Pelutt Orbit, Beshqek System, Imperial Space​

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[SITH CHANTING]

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Kintik Kaari stood silently as he listened to the congregation of Sith Cultists chant in churning tidal choruses of sorcerous Sith Verses. They were all garbed in black hooded cloaks and long flowing robes of force imbued zeyd weave. Force coverings wrapped their faces in sheer bands of black with woven crimson the very Sith Verses they chanted. Their voices melded together in pitch, tamber, and rhythm, reverberating each word in a boundless echo that thrummed like a beating heart; droning each word, and on and on.

The horde of Sith Cultists, many rows deep in their crescent seated formation, was adorned with instruments, tools, and objects that stood stark against their blending black mass. Some held Sith Oracle Stones, marbled crimson and gold stone orbs that glittered in the dim lights of the ruined Sith Battlecruiser’s Meditation Chamber. Others held ritual bells with Sith Amulet crystals held in the claws of the handle; while many more simply used their voices as instruments and gnarled their fingers together in complicated pious hand signs. Together they sonorously conjured the Dark Side of the Force.

The eddies of perfusion power ebbed and flowed from the Sith Cultists and burst from each word they chanted. Kintik Kaari looked up and followed where the Sith Verses rose to. The entire ceiling of the high domed Sith Meditation Chamber was a crowded canopy of Sith Chalices, hung by thick chains as large censers. The collective fog of burning incense filled the chamber with its own atmosphere of bleak grey clouds drifting along the dome circumference.

But in its natural wafting streaks Kintik Kaari could see the unnatural dance of smoke being bent and whipped by an invisible master. The Dark Side pulsed off the words of the Sith Cultists. It spread about the chamber, stretching its tendrils in an invisible grip that could only be noticed by its warping of the paths of thick incense smoke. But Kintik Kaari could sense it more deeply than shadows and smoke could illuminate. His attuning to the Dark Side followed the melody of the bolts of darkness as they spun a destructive song of corrupting permeation throughout the chamber and deeper into the ruined Sith Battlecruiser. His ears picked up the realspace sounds of its influence as cracked and broken plating creaked and groaned in shrilled and rattling cracks.

A brimming, arrogant pride filled Kintik Kaari and bent a ugly taut and crooked smile behind his Force covering bands. The High Nepherides of Byss had spent decades hunting down the meager trickle of rumors and clues, strewn between an obfuscating sea of falsehoods, ignorant boasts, and half-truths, in order to find the lost flagship of the Failed Dark Saint. Ever since her death at the hands of her own companion Darth Kascallion, and the end of her Schismatic Insurgency, much of her presence and ruin was lost.

As custom among Sith, who covet knowledge and artifacts to bring legitimacy to their own insurgent ascendency, the remains of the Failed Dark Saint’s followers, fleet, weaponry, and even her own body was pillaged and dissected. While his master, the Dark Lord of the Sith forged an Empire in the Core and Deep Core, Kintik Kaari had waded through the Outer Rim, across the filth of Smuggler’s Dens, webs of Information Brokers, and begrudgingly cavorted with haughty Sith claimants of other Dark Orders.

But at last, his wandering had led him to a contact blessed by the foresight of the Dark Side - Darth Bellum . He had given Kintik Kaari a Sith Wayfinder that had led him to the Failed Dark Saint’s flagship, the Soothsayer. The flagship had been hidden away in an ion storm nebula at Malachor’s edge of the Chorlian Sector, converted into a floating tomb. It wast there he had found the Failed Dark Saint's head encased in a glass reliquary of ancient design and kept in a Sith ritual of stasis.

Hauled back to Imperial space and hidden among the debris fields of the outer Beshqek System, Kintik Kaari had spent another couple of years preparing the ruined Soothsayer. The flagship had to be resurrected before the Failed Dark Saint could even hope to be. Imperial Naval Engineers were pressed into rebooting and rebuilding only the most necessary of onboard systems. His own Sith Cultists reinforced the rest of the flagship with Sith Amulets and Sith Alchemical Metallurgy that fashioned new bulkheads and braces to keep the Soothsayer from simply falling apart.

Kintik Kaari glanced back down towards the center of the Sith Meditation Chamber where a large, gilded Sith Sarcophagus was placed. It stood taller than an adult human’s height, each side was covered in Sith Bas Reliefs and at its hefty rim base was a vigil of Sith Chalices. Laid inside and embalmed in a pool of Sith Alchemical elixirs and concoctions was the Failed Dark Saint herself. Soon his work would be done, his grand work.

The large blast doors screamed a metallic sneer as they heaved to separate. Kintik Kaari turned around and met his master, the other Lords, and Darth Bellum. He strode up to Dark Lord of the Sith, but stopped several steps ahead in subservient observation of deference. He knelt and lowered his head.

“My Lord, the ritual proceeds as planned,” said Kintik Kaari. ​

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TAGS: Darth Solipsis​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | GALACTIC EMPEROR

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The chamber darkened as if the stars themselves had bent away in dread. The sound of heavy boots struck the deck plating, once, twice, each reverberation snuffing out a light source in their wake. The Sith’ari emerged from the black reaches of the chamber like a torn wound, his body indistinct from black mass of shadow that was the other Lords in his wake.

"Kintik Kaari," he hissed, his words rolling like ash across stone.

His hand rose in gesture, fingers dangling through the nearby incense as it swirled violently, folding in upon itself before gilding forth toward the figure of the kneeling acolyte. With sight beyond sight, he could see the embalmed husk within.

“Rise.”

The Dark Lord of the Sith moved closer, each step heavier than the last, as if gravity itself thickened around him. His burning gaze never left the coffin, even as he turned to address Kaari and his cultists still chanting, though few of their voices cracked under the oppressive weight of his and @Darth Bellum’s aura.

His voice fell to a whisper, cruel and absolute.

"Ah yes, I remember.”

The chamber thrummed as the Sith’ari’s posture tightened, he relished the thought, the memory of when the head of the deceased was thrown at his feet during the Great Gathering. Shortly after, those Sith would unite with his own New Sith Order, bringing about a new age and total victory during the closing days of the Sith Schism.

“I have need of you, my dead-prophet. It is time you brought FEAR to the galaxy once more.”

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