The Call

[Vrak Nashar]

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"We have watched. We have seen you defile our ways. We have seen the Sith of this galaxy burn and ravage in our name. ​

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We have seen what you have done.​

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We have found you wanting.​

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Since before the plague we have waited. We have prepared, and now, we have returned. ​

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The Empire comes back to this Galaxy, True Sith return. It begins on Ziost, and shall end when the galaxy bends it's knee."​

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The Message played over and over again on every holoscreen, every newsreel, every network that it could reach. The voice was accompanied by a single piece of footage, an image that that seemed to roll over and over again. The face of a single Sith Pureblood, standing proudly upon the Hangar Deck of a Star Destroyers. Before him was arrayed a gathering of dozens, if not hundreds of men and women.​

They were all different, men, women, aliens, and even a few humans. All of them stood and listened, watching as the Pureblood directed their attention to the end of the Hangar bay. There, beyond the Ray Shield, within the blackest depths of space, gray specks began to appear.​

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Only a few at first, and then they began to multiple.​

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Dozens of ships seemed to stream from hyperspace, suddenly collapsing back into the dark abyss, their looming approach towards a distant, gray world clearly showing on the holo-net footage.​

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Conquest, it seemed, was never fast, though they had done quick work of it.​

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Years, decades of preparation had brought them to this point, and it was paying off. To his left at the end of the far table stood [member="Neesa"], glowering slightly at everything. To his right was [member="Yidhra"], her back straight and her expression proud. Vrak glanced at them briefly, then at the layout of the broken relic before them. Ziost had seen much. The wrath of an Emperor, the wars of Sith and Jedi.​

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Yet it would now be so much more.​

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Athiss had grown beyond itself, his people had been brought to reason, and now The Purebloods of his homeworld were once again attaining their proper place.​

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He had sent his invitations, he had made his message clear. A new Sith Empire would rise, Resurgent, and one home to all those who could call themselves Sith.​

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Stragglers had been streaming to them for days, individuals, cults, armies, even fleets. All of them gathered here, all of them slowly came to the ruin that would be the New Empire's capital. Some did it out of hope, some out of curiosity, but most came for opportunity. They saw a way to power, and like all good Sith they would do their very best to seize it. Vrak did not blame them.​

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Not one bit.​

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He smiled slightly as he looked at the hologram of the ruins, this would be their city. Where their new Empire began.​

 

[grammaticus]

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

The fleet exited hyperspace in a brief series of flashes. Dozens of vessels of varying make and build, from massive troop transports to aged freighters. Aboard each vessel, Kaleesh warriors went about the final preparations for the orders they had been given, polishing weapons and armor, and ensuring everything was properly prepared.

Aboard the flagship of the fleet, Corin Zanith stood at the front of the bridge, Kaleesh warriors who had proven quick learners manning the numerous terminals and stations spread out across the bridge. Before his eyes, the world of Ziost hung in the dark void of space. The ships sensors told him dozens of other vessels were already in the system before him, all congregating in the space around the new capital.

"Send the signal to the fleet to take up position in high orbit over the planets northern pole. And prepare a shuttle for departure, and an honor guard. I shall be heading down to the surface myself." His orders were carried out in silence, for the Kaleesh had no need to acknowledge him. They did their tasks without question.

Turning, Corin walked down the length of the bridge, his cloak trailing him slightly. Exiting the bridge, Corin made his way down to the hangar, where a group of ten Kaleesh warriors, armed with Lig Swords and blaster rifles were waiting before a shuttle. The small party quickly boarded, before departing from the fleet, heading down towards the surface.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Long Live The Chiefhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_AQFnqMY3E

Aboard Immortal-Class Dreadnaught Harbinger
​Ziost...

"The Empire comes back to this Galaxy, True Sith return. It begins on Ziost, and shall end when the galaxy bends it's knee."​

​

​In orbit above the crown world of Ziost emerged a behemoth, a symbol of terror from a bygone age when the Sith held the galaxy in their iron grip. A ship that stood as an avatar of endless war against the enemies of the Sith Empire: an Immortal. But it was not alone. Around this behemoth emerged a flotilla of star destroyers, frigates and other support ships. The gathered force truly spelt doom for any world that had the unfortunate position of being on the opposing side of its guns, doom heralded by the powerful beam of the Immortal's cannon. But there was something different about this force as it emerged on the edge of the system, its weapons came powered down. The flotilla emerged with curiosity rather than aggression, a show of strength rather than hostility. When scans came across these ships and the forces of the Resurgent Empire searched their IFF tags, the unique cerulean phoenix of House Zambrano.

​Deep within the hull of the Harbinger atop a great throne overlooking the bridge sat Darth Prazutis; King of Thule, Warlord of Rattatak, Master of Khar Shian, and Arch-Prince of the Pacanth Reach. The Dark Lord was clad in his most ghastly of dark robes, a signet ring sat in place on his left hand. The only weapon the titan carried was his lightsabers concealed within the folds of his robes. The Destroyers gaze surveyed those beneath him but it peered ever outward through the force, his concentration partially focused on Ziost and the newly resurgent Empire that made themselves known. Its emergence had surprised and evaded even his own agents, his own networks none saw them coming, it was rare that he went into a situation like this as information blind as he was, but nonetheless his curiosity was peaked, his interest drawn from many plots weaved from his domain on Thule, drawing him to the crown world. The empire began so close to his territory, it forced him to act.

​It was by his will that the ships emerged with weapons low, they had come to engage in diplomacy not in battle. But diplomacy with the Sith held its differences from how it was typically done, Sith respected strength, power it was what they knew. Darth Prazutis would reach out to the budding Empire, and contemplate where they fell in his eyes, while he met with their leaders they all would secretly be judged in the eyes of the Destroyer.

​So a hail went out from the ships down to [member="Vrak Nashar"], they certainly wouldn't break the Resurgent fleets defense of the world, and he certainly wouldn't drop without contacting those with position.

​[member="Neesa"] | [member="Yidhra"]

 

[Yidhra]

Oh, was there ever pride in her stature.

Was there ever the shadow of a self-congratulatory smile in the corner of her lips. A smirk lurking just beyond the horizon, waiting for the moment when they cracked open the halls of the White citadel and baptized the stale air with new power. Her chest was filled to brimming with élan, her amber eyes boring ever forward and into the uniform darkness beyond the viewport.

Until it wasn’t.

Her breath caught, just for a moment, when the ice-locked sphere shed its black cloak upon their approach, basking in the rays of its distant sun. She’d pored over its histories for untold hours, studying all the knowledge that might’ve come here and never left. So many ancient secrets, hidden beneath the fields of snow and preserved untouched for millennia…

Yidhra was giddy.

(Or would be, if that were ever appropriate of a sith pureblood.)

A moment later, Yidhra was no longer giddy so much as she was annoyed. Of course it wouldn’t be smooth sailing – it never was with these things. Just had to convince herself, as always, to think of such occurrences as challenges, rather than the universe frakking with her plans. More like hunting them down in a narrow back alley after dark and committing unspeakable atrocities, but, well.

“So… [member="Darth Prazutis"], King of Thule, Warlord of Rattatak, Master of Khar Shian, and Arch-Prince of the Pacanth Reach all want to talk to us?” Her lips twitched as she regarded the fleet hanging between them and Ziost. “That’s an entitled welcoming party if I’ve ever seen one.”

Her gaze fell to [member="Vrak Nashar"], then to [member="Neesa"] beside him. While any self-respecting sith knew how to navigate the treacherous waters of cloak-and-dagger diplomacy, it didn’t mean they had to like it. She could contort her tongue around the very rarest of words and structures of many a language, but it was a skill gained through extensive reading and devotion of study.

In short, she didn’t give a flying frak about the contrived niceties so often employed in these situations.

“That’s some nice ships they got there, though. Which I’m guessing is royal-speak for ‘One must converse with Our Majesties, or one will perish tragically and prematurely in a hail of turbolaser fire’.”

 

[grammaticus]

[member="Vrak Nashar"] (Anyone in the room really)

Slowing its descent, the shuttle touched down on the landing pad. Pillars of steam shot from underneath the vessel as the ramp was lowered, and ten Kaleesh warriors, wearing leather armor and their traditional masks quickly walked down the ramp. Following them, wearing the armor and cloak of his allegiance, Corin Zanith walked down the ramp as well.

Spread out around them, a few workers and guards milled about, not surprised or shocked by the appearance of the Kaleesh warriors, or the masked Sith with them. The Resurgent Empire was based on the unity of human and alien after all, so it was no big surprise to see another batch of them. Corin turned to the warriors, speaking to them briefly. He then led two of them off, leaving the others to guard the shuttle.

Despite being the capital of the new faction, Ziost was still in all honesty a wreck. Ruined cities, storms across the entire planet, it was hardly what most would call habitable. But, the sheer amount of force energy in the air, dark side energy, was...intoxicating.

He knew why the world had been chosen, even the Kaleesh could sense the power on this planet, their agitated movements giving it away. All in all, it was going to be an interesting meeting. After some time, Corin came to a pair of guards, standing at attention outside the command area.

"I am Corin Zanith. I wish to enter."

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Antherion came in one ship - but it was quite a good one. That was his way. The few, the rare, and the superlative in quality. The infiltrator vessel had a silvery, reflective surface and a smooth, aerodynamic shape perfect for bending sensors - and a cloaking device for covertness. He tried to remember the exact phrasing that his 'Master' had used when granting it to him. Something about 'a worthy craft to allow my servant to scour the stars', or somesuch. That expanse of grease always had a flair for the melodramatic.

Then again, so did he.

He had been surprised when he seen the face of [member="Vrak Nashar"] blazing across his holoscreen, proclaiming an Empire. He had crossed paths with him once, but he had taken the man's words for the usual emptiness of deluded hubris. That is to say, he had expected nothing. Instead, the holo confronted him with a fairly dazzling and unsubtle display of military might.

It was the shadowy conclaves of mighty Dark Lords meeting in secret, each one powerful and together earthshaking, that had been empty hubris. Ego had driven them apart, and back into the darkness, where now they would remain. That darkness had threatened to swallow Antherion as well. He would prefer it all though. He would have his masters' power and knowledge as he served those in the shadows. He would have the best of dark and light. And in the end, he would take it for himself, and have no master at all.

To that end, Ziost would be his home.

He touched down as close to the meeting site as convenience would allow, while avoiding any conventional landing spot where he could be bugged, monitored, or his ship searched. It was essential that his private notes and research remained exactly that. Like a shadow, he slipped onto Ziost. Like a shadow, he would leave. No hailing, no heralding. His arrival was enough for him.

He marked a pathway to the capitol and followed it, cruising serenely on hovercraft, hoping to arrive at the site of the gathering in an uninterrupted fashion. Appropriate to the meeting, he had chosen his most ostentatious setup - his robes were made from a heavy, red brocart that made his skin look white by comparison, with a wet, shining look as though his fabric had been dipped in still-warm blood. Woen into his tousled, white-blonde hair were threads of golden nanosilk that stood out like threads of sunlight. His hoverthrone had been redone in black, and he sat crosslegged to disguise the fact that his legs were to weak to even support his weight.

He was a portrait of ostentation. And he loved it.

Almost involuntarily, he began to softly hum the tune that he had the day that they had met, moving swiftly to the appointed site as the sun beamed down on the bleached world. This was going to be a beautiful day.

| [member="Yidhra"] | [member="Neesa"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Corin Zanith"] |

 

[Connor Harrison]

Maybe now, with a new Empire forming around her, Joon could find her calling to serve the Dark Side once more.

A painful year had brought her here, to the company of a Sith Pureblood and a Sith Knight whom has crossed her path without even knowing the two were connected. Now, with a few others standing in the shadows supporting the Pureblood and his chiefs, Joon felt…hope.

Standing tall in her fur lined robe, the silver saber hanging at her side, tan and black coloured layers wrapped around her body in very primitive clothing, Joon – the clone of the Imperial Research Unit – stood and watched and absorbed the power radiating from them all.

Warships broke from hyperspace around them as the planet was framed below, and the swell of power and conquest was evident in all around.

Swallowing her pride, Joon stepped forward and lowered her head in respect to the Sith who had given her a chance when he didn’t need to at all. And, also, to Neesa, who had helped her on Jedha.

”May I say what an honour it is to be here, with you all, Vrak. I will listen, learn and serve this Empire as I was created to do so. There will be nothing and nobody to turn my allegiance from the Dark Side that empowers us.”

She cast her eyes to the planet before them. Of the opportunities before them.

”It’s rather beautiful. All of it.”

[member="Vrak Nashar"] | [member="Yidhra"] | [member="Corin Zanith"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Neesa]

"That is an awful lot of titles," Neesa murmured loudly enough for everyone at the table to hear. The nagai wasn't one to waste words. She didn't even particularly enjoy being in this forum. It was time however. Just as the Sith pushed out from their home it was time for her to emerge more frequently from behind the scenes.

She was the Shadow Hand of Lord Sitas, a prominent pureblood noble and powerful sorcerer. She had been cultivated on Livien Magnus then brought back to Athiss to formally become his Shadow Hand, his student. But most knew she played another role.

Those in the way of progress who could not be convinces to deviate from their path found out what it was that Neesa excelled in. During the last few bloody months on Athiss she had mostly been responsible for keeping Vrak in one piece during his ascendency to the Council.

Now she would be in a more prominent position, but it also made her feel more vulnerable. She would need to expand her network of informants and construct an even more potent shield around herself.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

(Tagging everyone is a bit much on my phone, sorry guys!)

This was in a way, exactly what Vrak had wanted.

There was an element of chaos to all of this of course. The Fleets appearing, the individual ships, the troops, everything sort of collapsing in on one point at any one time. It was amazing, though at the same time oddly terrifying. Things were happening quickly, and yet Vrak had never felt more confident. This was his base of power, this was what he had been meant to do. He smiled slightly, observing the map before slowly glancing back towards Yidhra.

"I don't care how many titles he claims." He didn't in all honesty, someone could show up claiming to be the Dark Lord of the Sith and still gain little to no respect from him as long as he had made no mark on the Empire itself. "He will be allowed passage here."

Vrak wasn't about to turn someone away, not when they potentially brought more strength to The Empire. The Council would have his head for such things.

He was far from a supreme ruler after all. "Yidhra, bite your tongue."

At least for now. The Empire was still far from a place where it could afford to antagonize almost everyone and everything. They had fleets of their own, power, but they still needed to grow. They still needed to attain more power before they could do whatever they wished. Vrak knew this, and he hoped the others would realize it was well.

"Joon, It is well that you are here." The girl he'd found in that Temple would prove useful. "Explore the ruins, see what we will build."

To everyone else? Well they would be welcomed. Corin of course would be allowed to enter as well.

Things were moving fast, and quickly the Pureblood found himself wondering how the other Councilors were fairing with their tasks.

 

[Darth Metus]

Malok knew his place.

Silent. Observant. The Behemoth stood within the belly of a beast. From afar, it cut a path through Hyperspace, culminating with its entrance over the frozen world. Malok waited - amidst a sea of obedient faces - for what would come of their arrival. For they were in a rather awkward predicament. For months now, the Ma'alkerrite had bent the knee to [member="Darth Prazutis"]. He learned at his feet, trained alongside his Blackblades, and did all required of the title Apprentice. Now, did Malok consider himself to be a Sith? Truly? Somewhat. He knew his might paled in comparison to gods...yet the Darkness screamed for him.

And those who worked within the Bridge felt the same. Some more than others. Thus did the predicament begin: upon hearing the message repeated over the airwaves. It was enough to draw the attention of their Master. It was enough to place a question in their minds. What do they do? Would they shed blood over the mantle of True Sith? Would there be peaceful co-existence? Or...would something else happen? Malok had no clue, but for the time being, he stood ready. Only a few paces away from the King of Thule did he stand. His hands, per the usual, rested behind his back.

Thus did he gaze upon the frozen world.

Thus did he wait.

[member="Darth Prazutis"], [member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

Out of the shadows decloaked a single ship above Ziost, a Phasma-class Infiltrator, on board a single person. Darth Abyss had heard the rumors of a new force of the sith rising on one of their ancient worlds, and as ruler of Malachor V he had felt the need to investigate these rumors himself. Due to their position he couldn't risk to have them rise without at least knowing about them to not endanger his small, personal empire. Right now they presented a threat, but not an immediate one. Working out some sort of deal was probably his best bet for now. So he came without his legion, and without the swarm to aid him attack this new faction, just one lord of the sith requesting a negotiation. Shields and weapons powered down.

"Glory, open a channel to the world below."

The AI gave no answer, but the systems of the ship hummed in a way that sounded almost like annoyance. Then a electric bleep informed the sith lord that a channel had been opened for him to contact this new empire on Ziost.

"Resurgent Sith Empire this is Darth Abyss, the Prophet of Malachor V. I formally request an parley with your leaders."

The ship simply rested in space, silent yet ready to disappear again at the slightest provocation. Malachor was just a jump away, and so where his forces. He hoped that he wouldn't need them, but there was still a lingering threat between sith until the point were a alliance or deal was forged. Once that happened it was an open threat, for each party involved to see what made it far easier to have a backup plan at hand just in case.

[member="Malok"] [member="Vrak Nashar"] [member="Neesa"] [member="Joon"] [member="Darth Prazutis"] [member="Antherion"] [member="Yidhra"] [member="Corin Zanith"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

As the richly appointed Sith passed up the winding paths, eventually Antherion drifted through a narrow, high-ceilinged hallway. Looking sideways out a window, he saw a broken place. It would not be so for long. If he played his cards right, he could have a place among the spires that would be raised.

That being said, he believed firmly that this Empire would crumble within his lifetime. Perhaps it was a premonition. Perhaps it was simple logic. There were too many moving parts. Too many clashing egos. This was built on liquid foundations. It would take a will of stone and a fist of iron, and more power than one person could hold to make it solid.

Then again, he had been surprised before. He had not believed that this would come to pass in the first place. Maybe this was the Empire that would see the dream of the Sith realized at last.

[member="Vrak Nashar"], he recognized. His signature in the Force, underwritten with confident power. His dignified, arrogant demeanor. The two others, [member="Yidhra"] and [member="Neesa"] were unfamiliar. Another Pureblood - how did that species last so long - and a Nagai. Were they advisers? Confidants, perhaps, or apprentices, or his peers? Time would make things clear.

For now, as far as he knew, he was the first to arrive to the chamber proper. He smiled, nodding his head before the man who seemed to be the leader of the Empire reborn.

"Lord Nashar - an honor and pleasure, as always." He inclined his head slightly. The gold threads shimmered like his curious, corrupted eyes. "You've exceeded all my expectations. I have come to accept the offer you made when we first crossed paths on Malachor."

If the plan was military conquest, he would have to ensure that he avoided making any major repository of his power on a world likely to be targeted. Likewise, he should find a puppet CEO for his corporation and hide his involvement, so that it would never be the casualty of Sith infighting.

"Antherion Koroosi, son of Hadram and Selana Koroosi, is proud to join the cause, as I did in spirit and wildest, scarcest hope on Malachor, now in the severest loyalty. My power is yours." He made a grand, sweeping gesture, his robe's fabric fluttering like a ruby curtain, or a war hydra's wing. His stick-thin arm was exposed slightly by the maneuver, seemingly straining to carry the weight of his own clothing. "I ask only that when the Sith of the galaxy pour in to meet their future, that they see me by your side."

| [member="Corin Zanith"] | [member="Joon"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Malok"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

She had been given an order. She was born to serve, and this new Empire was seemingly the ideal blend of old and new ideals that she was on the cusp of discovering. With a straight back, Joon rose her head to Vrak.

”For the Empire.”

Retracing her steps to the hangar, she would take a transport down to the ruins of Ziost, with or without company.

The Ruins
Ziost

The planet Ziost was new to Joon, and so it didn’t fail or meet expectations. It was what it was. In the coordinate provided, the ruins of what seemed to be a vast city landscape were somewhat welcoming. It was a foundation to be built upon. Debris to be blasted away. Buildings to be knocked down standing in their way. Eradicate the past to forge a future.

The transport, like a gleaming hawk from the sky with long wings folded up, rested behind Joon as she carried out a survey, recording the landscape on a data pad taken from the ship itself. A total sweep of the area, taking in the ground and the air. The planet and terrain seemed stable at least.

Looking up, mighty ships could be seen in high orbit from where she stood. It was empowering – as if she was standing on the pedestal of a new Empire being born. She WAS standing on that pedestal. Smiling to herself, the clone took a walk and noted down areas of interest; buildings that could be restored and should be scrapped, clearings to be built on and terrain that needed to be dug out or filled to be safe.

[member="Vrak Nashar"] | [member="Yidhra"] | [member="Corin Zanith"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member=Malok]

 

[Yidhra]

And bite her tongue she did, though not so much to appease [member="Vrak Nashar"] as to keep from quipping back at him. It was an ill-advisable course of action with the man so close. Not to mention all the loyal servants at his beck and call, all within a few paces of the bridge.

No, if there ever came a time to strike at the sith, it was not here, and it certainly wasn’t now. Prone to passion and rage as he was, the councilor was the figurehead of their new Empire. Yidhra much preferred the shadows and their quiet anonymity.

One needn’t be known to be feared.

Thus she merely dipped her chin in a show of deference. Not soon after did another entity reach out in contact. With [member="Darth Abyss"] came a refreshing lack of long titles, as well as a world they would do well to fold into their realm.

No time to conjure a new remark for the new arrival – the Prophet of Malachor was already eclipsed by another, a gangly figure calling itself @Antherion.

Yidhra turned her keen amber eyes on the rangy man, pleasantly surprised to encounter someone even more ill-suited to physical exertion than herself. Her own shortcomings were, thankfully, unnoticeable when standing still. A great perk when your day was nothing more than a dick-measuring contest with a megalomaniac streak.

He looked as slippery as an eel, his grin had too many teeth, and his gaze had that weighing quality of a fence evaluating a pouch of stolen diamonds. In other words, a proper Sith.

Being among the first to explore the frozen planet below was a succulent, susurrant temptation. It had been gnawing and eating away at her resolve ever since they’d arrived, and with each of their ranks that descended to the surface, Yidhra grew more restless.

The only thing keeping her stock-still and ramrod-straight was the threat of the fleet hanging between the Empire and the planet. Like a misplaced raincloud of abnormal proportions, it lurked above Ziost with uncertain intentions and plenty of firepower.

She liked her chances better up here.

[member="Neesa"] | [member="Malok"] | [member="Corin Zanith"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Joon"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

ZIOST,
THE SITH CITADEL

The crimson blade withdrew into the lightsaber's hilt. The move would give [member="Zakir Thaun"] pause, and from the looks of it, it was high time for it. The Zabrak looked noticeably more tired than the Togruta. Considering how recent his recruitment into the ranks of the Sith had been it was something easily forgiven. While Pyrrhus had wielded his lightsaber, Zakir had been given a vibroblade to practice with. He was not yet ready for the lightsaber. He had not yet proved himself worthy. Despite the different functionalities of the weapons, it had still served well to give Zakir lessons in the various moves and sequences of the first lightsaber form, Shii-Cho. The young acolyte fought with passion. His shortcomings did not appear to demoralise him, but rather become a driving source to push him further until he advanced himself to achieve more satisfactory results. It was something Pyrrhus imagined would serve him well in the trials to come.

It was not commonplace for Pyrrhus to hang around Ziost, yet these days he felt much less tied to a single locations. Where he desired to go he went. Yet there had been a reason for his visit to Ziost, other than training. A meeting had taken place. There was indeed a shift in the Force, yet what it would lead to was unclear. As far as the immediate future was concerned, Pyrrhus believed the Sith were on the rise once more. The time to step out of the shadows was perhaps drawing nearer. The meeting had given him much to think about, however, and few conclusions had been made. Rather than fly away immediately, he had decided to stay. Furthermore, he had summoned his apprentice to join him. There was knowledge to be gained here, and he could use the time to reflect upon the events of the galaxy.

"That will be it for now." Though he had intended for them to go on longer, it was dawning on him that instead of a break this would need to be the end of their session, at least for now. Curious, though not putting his thoughts to voice, the Sith Lord walked out from the hall they had been in and towards the citadel's balcony. Something was changing. Something he had not foreseen. An until this point unknown player was entering the scene. Almost in that very moment his own holoprojector would receive the signal that [member="Vrak Nashar"] had made sure to spread out into the Galaxy. The Empire comes back to this Galaxy, True Sith return. Interesting. Very interesting. If he had received a single credit every time someone claimed to be a 'true Sith', he would be rich. Well, by most standards he already was. And arrogant as he was, he would have to hand himself a credit chip too. Oh well. What he would not do, however, was dismiss an unknown force without properly inspecting it. If they were enemies he would learn of them, and if they were not... Well, what exactly that entailed remained to be seen.

In any case, it would seem it was the kind of message that provoked an answer. He had not stopped to turn and see if his apprentice had followed him out onto the balcony. It was assumed. His right hand set itself down upon the balustrade, his head leaning backwards as he looked up to the skies. There was a limit to what his eyes could see, but the Force told him much more. "Do you feel it?" It was hard for him to imagine exactly what his apprentice would be able to sense, yet he imagined that something of this magnitude would leave some sort of imprint. Regardless, it was time to open a line of communications.

The holographic image of the Togruta Lord would appear on whatever receiver used on their end. It showed Pyrrhus, draped in the dark robes that quickly gave the impression of Sith affiliation. They stood out, however, just enough to suggest that they were not of standard but of a more personal make. The dark robes notably came with thin durasteeel plating on his shoulders, hands, neck and a small portion of his upper chest, although this was mostly for its visual effect and not so much to offer him with protection. If nothing else, the hilt of his curved lightsaber, with a handle seemingly made out of bone (though it was but the outer layer), gave further hints as to his affiliation. The image of this horned being appeared, and it lingered. Even through the holographic projection the hinted rusty hues of his skin came through. The image remained, but no message in reply was uttered. With corrupted eyes he simply stared at whatever sight met him, or if nothing at all, satisfied simply with the knowledge that his own message was being received. The pause drew ever longer as he took measure of whatever information was offered him. And then he transmitted his coordinates.

"I am waiting."

 

[TB-705]

A Cathar waited in the ruins. Arms crossed, he leaned lazily against a pitted and battle-scarred pillar. The stone column simply jutted up into the sky only to be broken off. The roof it once held up was no more. The pillar now served no purpose save a reminder; a marker that once the Sith had built a civilization here, and one day they would again.

It seemed that day had now come.

Thengil's ear twitched and he stretched his maw open in a wide yawn.

Or would... soon.

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

Flecks of molten core flickered beneath darkened eyelids, quick to narrow with every gust of wind. The call had come through the Clawcraft view screen as he slept soundly, through the rumbling of an abandoned Coruscant Hangar. The time since the fall of the One Sith, and dismantling of the Legion, had not treated him well. Though nothing ever did.

Beneath this sun or the next, he grew hard and cold, despite what beauty he found in the living world. To stand idle as the changing of seasons takes the life of a single flower, to watch as the debt collectors pull a family kicking a screaming from their home. Everything dulled in the light of having no purpose. Time, in seconds or in years and decades, had no more purpose then the color of the shoes one wore for any given day. He had seen all he desired to see.

Pulling the tanned cowl over his head, he pressed the door of the Clawcraft shut as sharp debris met the bare soles of his feet. Looking towards the sky, through the ruins of Ziost, he wondered if this group would have the purpose they proclaimed.

Or if they would fall to the wayside. Just as everything else did.

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Yidhra]

Just as predicted, their broadcast had provoked and piqued many an entity. From great to small to everything in-between, Sith of all stripes, creeds, and colors were now expressing their interest. Some approached with due arrogance, sure of their power and resource; others slithered in with their heads low in resentful deference, lustful of the heights they had yet to achieve.

But every last one of them had deigned to appear.

The sorceress grinned ever wider with each Sith that flocked to their shield, proud and burning with purpose. It was exhilarating, daunting, terrifying, beautiful. It was beyond her expectations, and yet it still hadn’t reached them.

Could it ever, when Yidhra wanted the heavens themselves?

Ruminations for another time. Her yellow gaze fell to another holoprojection displaying before the bridge, this time without a lofty nor a humble introduction. Nothing, merely the blue ghost of a hooded Sith that was doubtless weighing their worth even as they weighed his. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only a set of coordinates in its wake.

A quick search revealed that they pointed to none other than the abandoned Sith citadel on Ziost. Yidhra quirked an eyebrow in surprise and angled the datapad for [member="Vrak Nashar"] to see.

“I’ll tend to this Sith,” she spoke, straightening her robes as she turned away from the bridge. He felt… distinctly like her sort. Leveled, measured, precise. Careful too, but willing to go out on a limb when the chance of profit far outpaced the threat.

With a final dip of her chin, the sorceress left for the hangar in a whirl of crimson robes. Well-aware of her own shortcomings in the physical department, Lady Dottash enlisted a dozen of Massassi to join her on the shuttle groundside, and then they were off.

Much like the transports before her, this ship, too, weaved easily between the two fleets and towards the stark white surface. Before she’d had a chance to settle in on the hard seats, they had already touched down, and then Yidhra was taking her first breath of Ziost air.

And it tasted of power.

She spilled her presence across the ruin before her, like oil over river stones, pouring into every nook and cranny. And there, high up in the Citadel, she found him. He was bright, a richer shade of dark than the dull glint of the ruins around him. An accomplished Sith then, sure of his purpose and manner.

What would he be like? Arrogant? Mocking? Aggressive?

The twelve Massassi at her side would have to do. If nothing else, they would serve as a distraction in a pinch. Satisfied with her level of precautions, Yidhra began the slow and arduous ascent up the steps and towards [member="Darth Pyrrhus"].

Let him wait.

 

[grammaticus]

Corin had entered the room a short time ago, and stood silently to the side as the numerous Sith contacts began to come through. He was mapping out the connections in his mind, seeing where the chips fell and what not. The new Empire was meant to be a unifying force and all, but he knew the names of several of the Sith coming. Corin was not one to blindly trust anyone, and as more and more Sith began to arrive, he was already planning for worst case scenarios.

He noted the departure of [member="Yidhra"], his Kaleesh warriors stepping to the side to allow passage. After a short time, Corin decided to depart from the central hub, exiting the room, and heading out. He was quickly flanked by his escort, and they made their way back to the waiting shuttle, before flying towards the northern hemisphere, where he had his warband begin setting up a temporary encampment in one of the numerous ruined cities.

While his warriors established checkpoints and patrol routes through the city, Corin spent the time exploring some of the temples in the city, taking note of what he thought was interesting. He made a note to send a message to [member="Antherion"], he would likely enjoy exploring the ruins at some point.

 

[Kratacos]

Ziost

Vraukt heard the call.

And Vraukt had come.

Of course, he didn't have any true forces to bring along with him, so he came in a ship that he had commandeered from some civilians that originated on Korriban. He had landed in the ruins, and he had turned off the ship. Of course, he was the one with the access code to enter the personalized shuttle, but anyone who was dedicated enough could likely penetrate its defenses all the same.

Vraukt cared not for something as paltry as a ship. Let alone one that he stole.

From rock to rock, he leapt with the grace of a leopard, a relatively large one, and one that was crimson as he went from pillar to pillar in search of, well, something. He could feel the dark side building up in orbit of the planet, anyone who was at least trained in the basics could tell that something was happening on that day.

He leapt again, this time, slipping and causing loose rocks and debris to slip off the large pillar to the floor below.

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]