Private Silence of the Past

[Imperius Indomitus]

LORD INDOMITUS
Through Fire and Blood.
Through Justice and Strength.

Darth Keres

​

Imperial Center | Imperial Palace | Steps

He sat foot on the landing platform below the Palace, an echo of clanking armor accompanying the movement which was quickly followed by several heels stepping at attention of the Coruscant Guards that presented their arms to the arriving figure. Imperius exited the speeder and walked between the guards, the hood of His surcoat pulled back, His black hair and soulless face fully exposed to the elements. With a hand resting on the pommel of Valoris, He started climbing the steps of the Imperial Palace.

Black eyes looked up at the redesign of the temple, now palace, then looked down. The steps had been largely repaired, debris removed. The memory of He and His troops had fought their way up here, battling the forces of the Alliance under Caltin Vanagor and Thurion Heavenshield with unrivaled ferocity. Imperius slowed down as the memory grew more vivid until He came to a halt.

It was an unusual emotion and reaction for Imperius, contemplation, dwelling in memories and remembering past deeds. Why? What caused it? His injuries? Trauma? Was His new body flawed with this kind of mental weakness? Was it due to the fact that His path was more unclear now than before? The doubt made Him angry, the lack of determination Imperius was not used to. The grip around the pommel tightened as He tried reign in the despised, uncontrolled thoughts.

 

[Darth Keres]

​

[]

​

Tag: Imperius Indomitus


Beneath the Imperial Palace, where the sun could never intrude and the air was thick with the ghosts of Empire, Darth Keres sat in perfect stillness. The chamber was vast—a catacomb carved from the planet's memory, its architecture a monstrous hybrid of Sith austerity and Imperial hubris. Columns rose like petrified titans, their surfaces chiseled with symbols of conquest and devotion, though most had long since been defaced by time or will. The silence here was not natural; it was cultivated, a silence so deep that it pressed upon the bones like an unseen ocean.

There, upon a broad staircase of black marble, veined with faintly glowing fissures of amethyst, she sat; legs crossed over, mind formulating. Her posture was regal yet languid, like a monarch at the funeral of her own divinity. Her cloak pooled around her in slow, liquid folds, drinking in the faint light of the candles that floated unnaturally in the air—cold flames of violet and blue, flickering without smoke. The faint scent of ozone and myrrh lingered, a perfume of machinery and sanctity. Her own personal Sanctuary.

Her hands rested upon her knees, fingers curled in slow, deliberate motion, weaving invisible geometries through the air. Around them, the Force itself began to distort, as though obeying a language too ancient for sound. Wisps of shadow and light coiled together, merging into serpentine ribbons that hissed faintly when they crossed paths. Each movement of her hand was a verse in an unspoken liturgy—the Song of Stillness, a meditation taught only within the Order of the Silencers.

As she exhaled, the chamber exhaled with her. A soft tremor passed through the floor; the stones shivered as if they remembered something they were meant to forget. But she remembered. A date? A conference? A meeting?

She was destined to meet a visitor. Lord Imperius Indomitus—a name that rang like a death knell through the corridors of Imperial politics. A warrior-scholar, an architect of dominion, and one whose ambitions whispered of gods and galaxies alike. Their meeting was no accident; such creatures did not stumble into each other—they collided, like celestial bodies doomed to destroy or enthrall.

"So," she murmured, her voice a whisper wrapped in velvet and ash as she stood: moving like a phantom in need of haunting; her destination, this creature. "The lion descends from his throne to stalk the crypt. I wonder if he comes to bargain, or to bury a rival," she mused, pulling her frame from the gripping steps.

​

Spoiler: Gear Loadout

• Melee Weapons​
  • XIII​
• Armor​
  • Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor​
• Accessories​
  • k​
• Ship​
  • Taciturnitas​

 

[Imperius Indomitus]

LORD INDOMITUS
Through Fire and Blood.
Through Justice and Strength.

Darth Keres

​

Imperial Center | Imperial Palace | Steps

Imperius' eyes moved to the Palace. This center of Imperial authority, the seat of the proclaimed Emperor Solipsis. This Sith that reveled in religious worship, that embraced the weakest and most flawed of Sith ways, who had embraced the Maw and its chaos, its senseless slaughter. The memory of the war quickly drew Him back to the here and now. War was the natural selection that sentience demanded. The Empire was the instrument through which He realised that purpose - just as the Empires before. It had some irony that the Sith Empire, with all it's self-procliamed demi-gods and overlords was not even close to that perfection.

He continued the ascend of the steps until He reached the entrance gates where the Coruscant Guard under watchful gaze of Royal Guard vetted and checked Him. A procedure Imperius allowed to happen like a mastiff tolerated the occasional pat before it was unleashed. Authority and discipline were the foundations of any Imperial reign and He was not here to indulge in senseless posturing. His pride did not demand such childish recognition.

The Lord of Zakuul was here for more than one reason, but He only followed one for now. Meeting a Sith. Generally speaking He did not hold any of their kind in high regard with few exceptions. His kind He should probably say. But His identification with the Sith creed was as loose and exceptional as it was defined.

Darth Keres seemed to be among the Sith that did not cower before Solipsis in ignorant reverance and one that did not obey the Force and Dark side like it was some deity of sorts. That alone made her stand out to Imperius. That made her worth knowing about. If she was worth knowing in person - a decision that would be made soon.

His steps carried Him through the palace, no hesitation nor delay in His march as He knew where to go. The palace was vast and yet it was not too different from any other stronghold of power and Imperius understood their construction quite well. He followed corridors and staircases into the lower levels. Wondering of many bootlicking dignitaries, lords, soldiers and Sith called this place their office, moths sticking to the light.

Imperius eventually marched into the small hall, His black eyes on the seated figure, not knowing, or caring, if He interupted her meditation. The room was cold, the echoes of the Dark side vibrant in the air. Where others might feel eerie silence, He felt the control over Dark side.

"Darth Keres."