Private Revival of the Butcher King

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Darth Carnifex

The forests of Stewjon had never truly left him.

They lived in memory, in instinct, and in the quiet moments stolen from a life that no longer afforded such luxuries. Before there had been councils, campaigns, and the weight of an Order upon his shoulders, there had been towering pines, rushing streams, and the rhythm of paws against damp earth. Those memories had followed Gerwald to every battlefield and every world he had claimed until, at last, he carved out a place where they could breathe once more.

Hidden within the heart of the Obsidian Spire, beyond layers of black stone and polished durasteel, lay a preserve few outside his family had ever seen. Beneath a vast transparisteel dome rose a forest transplanted from Stewjon itself. Ancient pines stretched toward an artificial sky while clear streams wound through moss-covered stone before disappearing beneath exposed roots. The air carried the scent of rain, pine, and rich earth instead of machinery and ozone. Wolves roamed the woodland freely, disappearing into the undergrowth as they pleased. They were not caged or trained. They simply belonged.

So did he.

A gray wolf moved effortlessly through the preserve, weaving between trunks with the confidence of a creature that knew every trail by heart. The others acknowledged his passing with little more than a glance before continuing their own pursuits. There was no challenge to issue and no dominance to establish. The pack already knew its own.

Gerwald lingered beside the stream before the familiar pull of the Force gave way to flesh once more. Fur receded into skin as the wolf became the man. He stood in silence for a moment, drawing in the cool air. Here, the burdens of a Dark Councilor felt distant, if only for a little while.

The soft hum of servomotors drifted through the trees.

An attendant droid emerged from the trail, its polished black chassis reflecting shafts of filtered sunlight that broke through the canopy above. It paused several paces away.

"My lord, your guest has arrived."

Golden eyes lifted from the stream.

"Bring him here."

The droid inclined its head in acknowledgment before turning and disappearing back along the trail. Silence settled over the preserve once more.

Gerwald rested a hand against the rough bark of a towering pine. The forest had grown alongside the Spire, season after season, while the Sith Order itself continued to change. Empires rose. Councils shifted. Wars came and went. Nature cared little for any of it. Here there were no titles to hide behind and no positions to preserve. Only strength, resolve, and the will to endure.

It was a lesson the Sith had once understood.

Perhaps they would again.

The sound of measured footsteps eventually carried through the preserve. Gerwald turned from the stream as the familiar presence entered the woodland. It had been years since they had last stood alone together. The Malsheem had settled questions that neither man needed to revisit, and the years since had only reinforced the respect earned there.

A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"Welcome to the one place in the Spire that still feels like home."

His gaze drifted briefly toward the wolves moving through the trees.

"The rest of this fortress was built for the Order."

He looked back to his guest.

"This was built for the wolf."

Gerwald stepped onto the narrow trail that disappeared beneath the pines, leaving the invitation to stand on its own.

"Walk with me."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He walked solemnly, bare fingers reaching out to caress the tips of the pines which overlapped the earthen trail. It was a different world from the one He had known, the one encoded in the deepest bedrock of His DNA. That had been a world of sweltering heat and endless jungle, fraught with danger and deception. Interwoven vines hid deep valleys filled with fungal groves and subterranean lakes, where one wrong step could send the hapless plummeting to their doom, while predators of every niche lurked just out of sight.

This world was different, but no less primordial. He could sense it through the Force. For Him, Panatha was a distant memory, but this forest ripped straight from Stewjon was only a transplant. Stewjon yet persisted, albeit far away. The Wolf could always seek out that world if he so desired, but the Eternal Father had to settle for recreations. It was where their shared interest in their homeworlds diverged.

Cloaked in a heavy shawl of sound-dampening susurra-weave, Darth Carnifex stepped out into the clearing. Awaiting Him was Gerwald Lechner, Dark Councilor, Lord-Imperator of the Dreadborne Second Legion, and Empress' Wrath. Long ago they had struck an accord, and with the now-Empress Srina Talon and Dark Councilor Taeli Raaf had formed the Revivalist bloc within the Eleventh Sith Empire, though it had been some time since they had spoken at length in privacy.

Silently, the towering Epicanthix fell into step with Lord Lechner. As they walked, He listened to Lechner briefly explain the purpose of this insular forest, a separate world from the spire to which it was attached. "An admirable labor," replied the Dark Lord, "I have built sanctuaries of my own to stimulate the memory of Panatha, I was able to safeguard a great deal before the world was rendered moot."

Carnifex's gaze then lingered upon the wolves as they disappeared and reemerged between the pines, each moving with quiet purpose. They neither jostled for position nor sought to remind one another of their strength through constant challenge. Their hierarchy had already been settled. Every member understood its place within the whole, and so each could devote itself to the pack's survival rather than its own vanity.

There was a lesson in that. One the Sith had once understood but had gradually forgotten.

Too many proclaimed themselves wolves while behaving like carrion-feeders, forever tearing at one another over fleeting opportunities and imagined slights. They confused ambition with instability, never recognizing that dominion demanded more than the ability to seize power. It required the wisdom to preserve it, and the discipline to subordinate lesser rivalries to a greater purpose.

Nature did not reward endless conflict. It rewarded enduring order. Even the fiercest predators understood that a pack forever consumed by internal struggle would soon lose its territory to one whose hierarchy had already been decided. The Sith so often preached that the strong should rule, yet many spent their lives proving only that they were incapable of ruling anything beyond themselves.

He looked away from the wolves and back to Gerwald, watching Him as one predator would regard another. Here, at least, was a wolf who understood the difference. "How fares the Second Legion?"

Gerwald Lechner ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Darth Carnifex

Gerwald listened without interruption as Carnifex spoke of Panatha. His gaze moved through the towering pines, following the shafts of pale light that slipped between their branches and settled across the forest floor. Stewjon remained within reach, a world he could return to whenever duty allowed, while Panatha had been reduced to what Carnifex had managed to preserve before its loss. There was no useful comfort Gerwald could offer for that, and he respected the Dark Lord too much to attempt it.

“Then I am fortunate. Stewjon still waits for me.”

His hand brushed against the rough bark of a pine as they continued deeper into the preserve. The trees had grown thick enough to hide the walls of the Spire, leaving only the scent of damp earth, the murmur of running water, and the occasional movement of wolves slipping through the undergrowth. This place had never been intended to replace his homeworld. It gave the wolf room to run when the burdens of the Council, the legion, and the Empire kept Gerwald on Jutrand.

Carnifex's attention returned more than once to the wolves moving among the trees. Gerwald noticed, though he kept the observation to himself. The two of them walked through the preserve much as predators might share the same forest, neither yielding ground nor feeling compelled to prove why the other had been permitted there.

“The Second is ready.”

The trail curved beside a stream before descending toward a broader stretch of water. Moss covered the stones along its banks, and the roots of the oldest trees reached into the current as though drinking directly from it. Across the stream, several wolves moved through the shallows with their heads low, unconcerned by the two Sith walking nearby.

“They know what they are. The Second was never shaped to sit behind walls or govern what others conquered. They are the force sent ahead of the line, where resistance is strongest and where something must be broken before the rest of the Empire can advance.”

There was pride in the words, though none of it was careless. Gerwald knew what he had forged within the legion. Its warriors carried the fury of the old clans into a modern war machine, throwing themselves into battle with the discipline to direct that violence rather than be consumed by it. They did not fear the charge, and they did not mistake brutality for purpose. Every axe, blade, and rifle existed to drive the same relentless momentum forward until the enemy's line ceased to exist.

“They have waited long enough to be unleashed against an enemy worthy of them.”

The stream narrowed ahead, crossed by a broad span of dark stone that appeared almost natural beneath the moss gathering along its edges. Gerwald led Carnifex across it and toward higher ground, where the forest gradually opened around them. The trees gave way to a wide clearing set beneath the highest point of the dome, its center occupied by a weathered circle of standing stones brought from Stewjon. No banners marked the place, and no symbols of office had been carved into the rock. It was simply somewhere Gerwald could stop after a run, listen to the forest, and remember that titles mattered far less than the strength required to carry them.

He stepped into the circle but did not immediately take a seat. Beyond the stones, the preserve stretched beneath them in layers of pine and mist, wolves appearing and disappearing between the trunks below.

“When you, Srina Talon , Taeli Raaf , and I first began speaking of what the Order might become, there was no war to test whether any of it had taken root. We could influence appointments, shape expectations, and place the right people where they could prove themselves, but peace allows weakness to hide behind position.”

Gerwald rested a hand against one of the standing stones.

“The coming war will remove that shelter.”

His gaze shifted from the forest to Carnifex.

“That is why I brought you here. The Republic is only the enemy before us. What matters is what we make of the Order while it is forced to remember what strength costs.”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord of the Sith followed the Empress' Wrath through the primordial woodlands, passing over stone and brook until they'd reached a collection of monoliths seated at the center of a hidden grove. Both crossed the stream that demarcated the grove from the rest of the forest with ease, passing over the span of dark stone which bridged the waterway. The ring of stone held no significance to the Dark Lord, but He could sense that it possessed meaning in the mind of the Wolf. Not one of titles or ritual, but of quiet and contemplation.

In a way, the grove felt sacred. Like He had stepped from one world and entered another, the wind and the scent thereon was of a different character. Ancient and earthy, a hint of death rent by claw and fang. Only a predator could find solace in a hollow such as this, and though He was a stranger He nonetheless felt a primal kinship with it. He doubted that any besides Himself and Gerwald could truly understand, perhaps not even the Empress even though they both loved her in their own ways.

"The period of consolidation is nearing an end, Gerwald. For all of our history, the Blackwall has always been but an instrument. There are those who mistake its purpose, both who seek to abolish it and those who seek to remain behind it forever. Just as a warrior uses all powers at their disposal, so too have we used the Blackwall to both strengthen and shield. We have not lost a single engagement while its vein is drawn."

He looked to the warrior Sith at His side, molten copper meeting reflective moonlight. "But the longer we incubate ourselves, the deeper we draw ourselves into complacency. None have yet truly challenged our strength, but there will one day arise a power who will. It may be the Republic, or it may yet be a challenger unseen. We have need of the Second Legion, to be the tip of the spear. All is nearing final preparation."

Carnifex decided to allow a pause, to let the ambient noise of the ancient woodland speak for itself amidst their civilized speech. When He spoke again, it was of a different subject, but one nevertheless tied to their ambitions. "The Jedi have fractured, Gerwald. A faction among them have broken with the Grandmaster, they seek aggression in light of our triumphs. I have begun to exploit the rift."

Gerwald Lechner ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Darth Carnifex

Gerwald stood in silence after Carnifex finished speaking, allowing the forest to reclaim the space between them. Wind stirred through the canopy overhead, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth across the grove while the stream continued its endless journey around the standing stones. Somewhere beyond the trees a wolf called, answered moments later by another farther away.

The use of his given name gave Gerwald pause, though nothing of it showed on his face. Few within the Empire addressed him with such familiarity, fewer still among those who occupied its highest levels. Carnifex had not done so carelessly. Somewhere amid shared campaigns, councils held alongside Srina and Taeli, and years spent shaping the Empire toward the same vision, titles had quietly become unnecessary between them. Gerwald found he did not mind it.

"I agree. The Blackwall has done exactly what we asked of it. It gave us time to rebuild what had been neglected for generations, time to strengthen our fleets, temper our armies, and raise Sith who know discipline before they conquer."

Gerwald rested one hand against the nearest monolith, his fingers following the weathered grooves cut into its surface. The stone had been brought from Stewjon along with the soil beneath their feet and the pines surrounding them, though time had made it seem as much a part of the preserve as the streams and wolves. Across the grove, movement stirred between the trees as one of the pack slipped through a patch of moonlight before vanishing beneath the canopy.

"But shields have a way of becoming walls in the minds of men. Eventually they stop seeing what lies beyond them."

His attention followed the wolf for a moment before returning to Carnifex.

"The Second will remind them. They were never created to defend an Empire content with survival. They exist to carry its will beyond its borders."

The warriors of the Second Legion had been forged for little else. They carried the fury of the old clans into every battlefield, disciplined enough to direct their violence but never so restrained that they forgot the purpose for which Gerwald had shaped them. They were not meant to linger behind fortifications or spend years administering conquered worlds. They were the force sent where resistance remained strongest, where the enemy still believed itself unbreakable, and where only overwhelming violence would tear open the path for those who followed.

Carnifex's revelation about the Jedi drew a thoughtful hum from Gerwald. A faction willing to break with its Grandmaster in pursuit of aggression presented its own danger, but it also revealed uncertainty. The Jedi had long projected unity as one of their greatest strengths. A fracture, however small, invited pressure.


"A divided enemy is dangerous in its own way. The moderates will seek peace because they believe it still possible. The zealots will seek war because they believe it necessary. Each will spend as much effort proving the other wrong as they do opposing us."

A faint smile touched the corner of Gerwald's mouth.

"You've given them another front to fight."

The smile faded as silence settled over the grove once more. Neither man seemed in any hurry to disturb it. The standing stones had witnessed far older conversations than this one, and the forest cared little for the titles of those who stood within its embrace.

It was why Gerwald had brought Carnifex here.

Not to discuss troop deployments or strategy maps laid across polished tables, but to speak where neither the Spire nor the weight of the Dark Council intruded. Here there were only two warriors who had spent years shaping the Empire alongside Srina and Taeli, each from his own direction, each believing the Sith could become something greater than the generations that had preceded them.

"I did not ask you here to speak of the Republic. We both know the war is coming, and we both know the Second will answer when called."

Gerwald's hand remained against the weathered stone.

"I asked you here because wars have a way of changing Orders as much as they change borders."

His golden eyes met Carnifex's across the circle.

"We've spent years rebuilding the foundations of the Sith. The Blackwall gave us that opportunity, and now that season is ending."

Another breeze swept through the grove, rustling the branches overhead.

"When the first victories come, they'll validate more than our armies. They'll validate ideas. Ambitions. Men."

His gaze drifted briefly toward the wolves moving beyond the standing stones before returning to Carnifex.

"What concerns me isn't whether we win."

A quiet certainty settled into his voice.

"It's whether the Sith who emerge from victory will still resemble the Order we've spent years building, or whether success will tempt them into becoming what we worked so hard to leave behind."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord ran the tips of His fingers across the weathered stone, feeling every contour and uneven distortion that spoke of the unfathomable eons it had lived above and below the earth before coming to rest in this clearing. So much history in such an unassuming form, all things carried with them that which had shaped them. Heat and pressure rendering sand into stone, the movement of tectonics dredging it to the surface, the endless waves of the great oceans eroding away its face, and finally the hammer and chisel that leave their mark.

The Sith were no different, even in this strange modern era. Within them was all that had shaped the Order for thousands of years, stretching back even before the Exiles came to Korriban. They were the heirs of King Adas, he who threw back the Rakatan invaders into the void of space tens of thousands of years before any Sith now living had drawn their first breath. Just as the past was theirs, so too would the present and the future.

"That is why we have banded together, Gerwald. We are the Revivalists, and our will is unassailable. It is our duty to guide this Empire to its proper place in the galaxy, as its Lord and Master. We must remain vigilant for those who would seek to undermine our labors. The also-ran Darth Strosius continues to scuttle and scheme in the shadows, plotting his next impotent protestation. There are others besides, those who lack vision and clarity of purpose. It is the nature of the Dark Side to offer a quick and easy path to power, but true mastery will forever elude those who cannot see beyond tomorrow."

He neared Gerwald, the two warriors' shadows intersecting on the ground before them; united in purpose. "The Empress must be prepared to snuff out those who oppose her rule when the time comes, Gerwald. You and I will be her monsters."

Gerwald Lechner ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Darth Carnifex

Gerwald watched Carnifex’s hand move across the weathered surface of the monolith. The stone had known Stewjon long before Gerwald had drawn breath, and now stood beneath an alien sky surrounded by soil and trees carried across the stars. Time had changed its surface without diminishing what it was. There was something appropriate about Carnifex lingering over it while speaking of the Sith and what they intended the Order to become.

The name still caught Gerwald’s attention.

Gerwald.

Carnifex had used it twice now, easily enough that there could be no mistaking the familiarity for accident. There were precious few among the Sith who addressed him so plainly, and fewer still for whom Gerwald would tolerate it. Somewhere between the battles they had fought, the blood spilled aboard the Malsheem, and the years spent working alongside Srina Talon and Taeli Raaf toward a common purpose, something had changed. The realization brought the faintest hint of amusement to his features. Gerwald found he did not mind it.

Strosius was another matter entirely.

“Then let Strosius scheme. If he possesses the strength to change the course of the Order, he should try. I will not fault a Sith for ambition, even when that ambition is directed toward us.”

Gerwald’s fingers traced one of the shallow markings in the stone beside him. He had never believed their vision should be protected from challenge. Doing so would betray the very principles they claimed to restore. Power that could only survive by silencing every potential rival was not strength at all. If Strosius believed himself capable of taking what Gerwald and the others had built, then he was welcome to make the attempt.

“What I will not tolerate is someone weakening the Empire simply because he lacks the strength to shape it himself.”

The distance between them diminished as Carnifex approached. Gerwald did not move. Their shadows stretched across the earth beneath them until the distinction between one and the other disappeared beneath the standing stones.

You and I will be her monsters.

A grin slowly pulled at Gerwald’s lips.

“We already are.”

There was no shame in the admission and no revelation attached to it. Srina knew precisely what Gerwald was. She had known when she placed him by her side many years ago. There would always be enemies an Empress could defeat from a throne, others she could destroy with fleets and armies, and still others whose removal demanded something less restrained. Gerwald had never needed to pretend his hands were clean, nor had Srina ever asked him to.

His gaze shifted beyond Carnifex toward the edge of the grove. Between the monoliths, one of the wolves had settled into the grass, its head resting across its forelegs while its eyes remained fixed upon the two men. It appeared at ease, though Gerwald knew how little separated that stillness from sudden violence.

Perhaps that was why Carnifex’s choice of words suited them so well.

Gerwald turned his attention back to him.

“Srina has never needed us to be tame. She needs us to know where to point our teeth.”

The forest breathed around them as Gerwald considered everything that had brought the four Revivalists to this moment. Srina sat upon the throne. Taeli possessed a mind capable of reshaping institutions as readily as others reshaped battlefields. Carnifex carried with him an understanding of the Sith born from lifetimes of conquest, collapse, and rebirth. Gerwald had built the Second into an expression of the same ideals they had spent years quietly cultivating throughout the Order.

Soon they would discover how deeply those roots had taken hold.

“The war will give us opportunities we have not had before. Sith who have grown comfortable will either remember what is required of them or expose themselves as unworthy of what they possess. New names will rise because they have earned the right to rise. Others will discover that titles cannot protect them when strength is demanded.”

Gerwald looked again toward the wolf resting beyond the stones before his golden eyes returned to Carnifex.

“We should not interfere with that.”

A slight smile remained.

“We should encourage it.”