ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
MALACHOR V
The Stygian Caldera, Sith Space
The Stygian Caldera: A ripple in hyperspace that acted as a refuge to hide the ancient Sith from a Republic that would have wiped them out and even now served as a modern bulwark for the Sith. In his inquiries since he had been freed from carbonite, Antherion had learned that the Sith had lost nearly anything - another galaxies-spanning empire, now rotting on the garbage heap of history. More ruins ripening for the next messiah of darkness to rediscover. This was how it had been when Antherion was young, and free, and displaced by several millennia from this time. This was how it had been in his long, dreamless stasis. This was, maybe, how it would always be. A certain Darth had taken it upon himself to set Malachor as a ripe center for illicit activity, and the ants of society had swarmed over it as predictably as if he had left out a bit of overripe fruit. Why, one might ask, would he make one of our ancestral homes into a crime-ridden slum?
The same reason any Sith has done anything, Antherion thought. Power.
He had a reason for being here - a meeting. Waiting in a relatively cozy spice parlor he had commandeered for this exact purpose, he sat next to an idle, compliant, and thank the Force silent protocol droid that was his crutch of the day for his withered limbs. A faintly sweet smell wafted in the air, and the room was slightly obscured with vapors. He had a soft, pale look to him, and his eyes were a grey-tinted, cloudy blue.
He was thinking of a specific person to cross paths with... but anyone could turn up. And to be honest, they would be welcome. You don't spend as long as he had in a lonely slumber without craving for some conversation - and the Dark Side might set someone interesting on a collision course with him.
| [member="Vrak Nashar"] |