Faction The Day of the Blade [TSE]

[Darth Carnifex]

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Dromund Kaas
Shortly after the Scouring of Myrkr

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The clouds had parted for a particularly festive day on Dromund Kaas, the capital of the Sith Empire. Banners streamed from every parapet, displaying the wicked scarlet crest of the Sith Eternal over a black field. Thousands, tens of thousands even, had flooded the streets of the great Sith capital to attend the execution of the Empire's most hated enemies. ​

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Mandalorians.​

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The Myrkr campaign had been a success, though it had coincided with a surprise attack at Mandalore that saw the local garrisons withdraw under threat of encirclement by the Mandalorian Union and infection by an outbreak of the Blackwing Virus. While considered a necessary loss, there were many in the Empire's upper hierarchy who chafed at the thought of losing Mandalore to the Mandalorians. So, in retaliation, reprisal raids had occurred up and down the new demarkation lines, and several prominent Mandalorian commanders and clan chiefs taken hostage by the Sith. They had been beaten, deprived of their armor, and paraded before the Sith Citadel to the jeering throngs of Imperial citizens eager and hungry for release. That valve of hate and bitterness had been wound too tightly, and now they found an opportunity to release all that pressure.​

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Holodroids swarmed the boulevard leading up to the Sith Citadel, capturing every minor detail of the crowd and the assembled condemned as the sun continued to shine through a momentary gap in the dark overcast. Some held their heads high, defiant to the last, while some averted their gaze to the ground while muttering a futile prayer.​

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One among them stood out, his identity a sensation, his name spoken with revulsion.​

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Kaine Australis.​

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The criminal had been captured on Myrkr attempting to flee Sith justice, apprehended by Emperor Carnifex himself, Lady Taeli Raaf , and retired Lord Admiral Fiolette Raaf. His stripped body bore the brunt of many scars, the majority of them fresh as he had been subjugated to several beatings prior to this moment. His lips were wound shut by strands of tensile wire, the Sith had no desire to hear him babble empty bravado.​

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A short speech was delivered by the Emperor, full of rhetoric and hyperbole. It was similar to past speeches delivered by his Supreme Excellency, crafted in such a manner that it inflamed the passions and prejudices of the crowd that had assembled before him. His voice was further broadcasted across the Sith Empire and beyond, for the Sith had no qualms about showcasing their acts of justice to the rest of the galaxy. He finished his speech strong, right hand clenched into a tight fist as he delivered the final prose.​

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"... And never again will these mongrels profane the galaxy with their very breath, let it be known that it was the Sith who restored peace."​

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Cheers and applause, so deafening that it could be felt rather than heard across New Kaas City. Basking in the adulation, the Emperor turned his gaze to watch as the first Mandalorian was brought forth. The chosen method of execution was a uniquely crafted electro-guillotine perched above a sharp drop, where the condemned was forced into the contraption face down. Their upper body hung over the empty space, their limbs strapped into place by thick durasteel restraints. Their neck was aligned with the humming energy blade, which slammed down to cleanly sever the head from the neck in a single instance.​

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The Mandalorian's head tumbled down to the ground, bounced around like a misshapen ball, before rolling to a stop. Blood oozed from the cauterized wound, dripping down onto the ground in a slow steady trickle. A few moments later, the Mandalorian's body followed as the restraints were disengaged simultaneously and the body shunted out onto the ground.​

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And oh, how the crowd cheered.​

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The next Mandalorian was moved into position.​

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And so the executions continued.​

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

One among the crowd, Velok roared with approval. Perhaps if he asked the executioners nicely, he and his associates could have a nice Mandalorian barbecue tonight. The gigantic Whiphid found himself salivating. Mandalorians' shell-protected flesh was always especially soft and tender.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Maliphant had been watching the progress of the Sith Empire for some time - or in some’s opinion, its retrograde. The alchemist thought of it differently however; Sith prove themselves through struggle, and they had been far too comfortable. Shown their neck a few too many times to get away with it. He enjoyed watching them bleed on the galactic playing field if nothing else but their own good.​

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Yet, as he watched the execution unfold, he couldn’t help but welcome their turn of good fortune. Australis was a terrible mandalorian, and a worse person - One Maliphant would’ve like to kill with his own hand would the moment have ever presented itself, and yet it never had. For the best, he imagined, but a more righteous and more deserving hand had struck the final blow.​

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“Good work, ‘Emperor’.”, he idled to himself as he sipped on his drink, even if the last word was not entirely serious.​

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Perhaps, he considered, he should visit the Sith again. He’d been far too long removed from their good graces.​

 

[Gunnr Zambrano]

‘Power, little one. Power was a shifting sand dune, ever present but mutable. A tumbling drift part-oasis, part-desiccation of flesh without limit. Power, like sand flowed out of the fingers of those who clenched it, and poured into the crannies of others, who opened their fingers and let it run free.’

Gunnr knew not where the visceral memory came. It fit neither her grandfather Girak’s intonation, nor the jungle-deeps of her Panathan homeland. It was as penetrating as the sight before her, clad in the burgundy and gold armour crafted by her beloved saviour and Emperor.

The cacophony of execution-cheers could not touch the six clangs she felt when she stared at the Boar. Unarmoured people died in the guillotine, but Darth Carnifex ‘s consort saw none of their passing, while she stayed firm at his side.

There, the Boar.

Bound and defeated, the Mandalorian Boar whose snuffling, guttural charges plagued Gunnr’s dreams...

... six roars. Six penetrating booms.​

The roars which shattered and created Gunnr Zambrano’s world. Ginger hair tied back in a braid away from her face, Gunnr was draped in no cosmetics but the blush of ire on her cheeks, a deep rage from which she felt no dawning, and desired only its’ end. Uncanny anger, a strange regret that his punishment took as long as this fed the rage.

“Kaine Australis...” Gunnr’s brow furrowed as she walked beyond her husband’s reach, the man who resurrected her body amidst its’ dark drowning. Brought her back to the Panathan family who ached for her return. The day she woke upon the resurrection slab, and the madness ebbed, Gunnr’s first memory was the immediate arms of her husband plucking her off the stone. A life consumed now returned for its’ nigh idyllic pleasures.

Koe spoke one word. The hidden word, locked beyond her memories as a Panathan Lady, born of House Fitz-Kierke. Life before was a sacrifice to the fires of her rebirth, and no memories of it remained. Thus, as the girl Adara Raxis crept beside Gunnr, she felt a spearhead strike her heart.

A girl with no mother under any of the suns this galaxy displayed, stolen from her by the man whose mouth was bound in wire. His cerulean eyes were red rimmed, bloodshot from the torturous beatings of his captors.

“We glory in your downfall. You will stop haunting us now, silly old Boar.” Gunnr knew none of the reasons why her arm went round Adara Raxis ‘ shoulder, nor why the teenaged daughter of Darth Prazutis searched her father’s eye. Her cousin’s eye. “You will never reach us. Your shadow will not dim our joy, your tempestuous hate cannot touch us now. And the stain of you shall finally be washed clean.”

All Gunnr knew was the rage of a woman wronged, who stared at the monster bound and gagged. Overcome and beaten and defeated for the last time. Gunnr tore her eyes from Kaine Australis to Kaine Zambrano and with a single deep breath, she let go of Adara’s shoulders and took the hand of the Emperor. “I want nothing more than a pistol with six slug rounds, to shoot through his spine. I want to expunge this... agony in my spirit which makes me fear we knew him once, and knew him too well. Tell me, Koe.

Tell me this man was nothing and I will believe what you say.” Her throat cloyed with a hear-sore knot as the crowd continued to roar and bellow, and Gunnr eyed Adara once more as she stared longingly at her, as if grasping for a long passed dream.

 

[Lirka Ka]

This Galaxy gave, and it took. For Thustra laid in her claws, beautiful, fair, Thustra: warped and malformed by it's conquerors, ready to be melded and molded into the true way. But while she gained the greatest of prizes, Lirka was denied. Her honor had been slighted by Australis, and the chance to redeem such a thing robbed.

His death remained bittersweet.

For while the rest of the crowd cheered and roared at the monster's fall, the monster that was Lirka Ka could only look on with a shimmering disdain. Disdain for all things around her, for until the Dark claimed this measly existence Australis would always have bested her, sent her scurrying away as organs failed and death's claws dug around her soul once more. Never would he see the metamorphosis he birthed, a metamorphosis that would've left him fallen by her blade, left the scum the same empty corpse was now. But she had been denied, denied her honor, and denied her slaves.

There was no celebration today: just cold, simmering, hatred. For the Mandalorians, for the Empire, for the rebels and dissidents who still fought strong on Thustra. But hate? Hate gave Lirka purpose, grim, malicious, purpose.

 

[Onrai]

Of the individuals within the Mandalorians, none had done more than Kaine Australis to seek to sabotage whatever possible issues there could be between a loyal group of skilled warriors and the Sith. Vanessa recalled quite well how it was Kaine Australis who went above and beyond the call of duty to start instances of conflict between the Mandalorians and the Sith Empire, no matter what form of governance the former had. Though she had been an on-again off-again associate of Yasha Cadera , the former Mandalore and wife of the insurgent soldier, her relationship with this Kaine, as opposed to the Emperor, had never been cordial.

So it was that Vanessa took great pride in being the one to press the button. To annihilate those that had spurned her attempts to assist them during their time of allyship, and those which spat upon the rightful Sith dominion over the clans. Very little had ever truly satisfied her the way this was, and she looked forward to the fate that awaited Kaine Australis once it was finally his turn.

"Faster, now. And save those bodies and bones. I have plans for them later!" She yelled to the attendants moving the Mandalorians in and their bodies out of the electroguillotine.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Down, down, down fell the blade.​

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Each descent heralding another jubilant roar from the crowd as the head of another Mandalorian bounced across the cold unforgiving permacrete. Those who held themselves with whatever dignity they could muster said nothing and walked to their deaths proudly, head held high. Those of less fortitude started fighting back against their fight, kicking and screaming against the gag in their mouth for clemency, for mercy. ​

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Their pleas fell on deaf ears, their efforts rewarding them with violent reprisal at the end of an electrified baton, and their heads rolling across the floor along with the rest.​

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Carnifex watched each execution in silence, face impassive as the blade descended again and again. His eyes then slowly settled on Gunnr, his sixth wife, as she strode from his side to berate the bound and gagged Australis warlord. Restrained as he was, he could do nothing but stand there and suffer the verbal lashing inflicted upon him. His eyes could not even meet Gunnr's own, instead cast down or to the side at some unseen and unknowable fixation.​

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When she returned to his side, she spoke her wish, her desire to him hoping that he would appease the gnawing in her soul. He said nothing, his eyes staring deeply into hers as he reached into the confines of his vestments and produced a pistol that he held outstretched in his palm. It had been confiscated from the Old Boar when they had apprehended him, Carnifex personally taking ownership of the weapon for this exact purpose. He had divined Gunnr's wishes and desires in her dreams, as he had done when she wore a different face and lived a different life. Knowing that she would ask this of him, he brought it with him.​

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Still saying nothing, he gently pressed the weapon into Gunnr's hands. In its chamber had been loaded exactly six rounds, the exact same rounds which had rung out so clear on that fateful day on Mandalore. His hand then rose to caress Gunnr's cheek before gently grasping her shoulder and turning her towards the bound warlord.​

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Though he said nothing, Carnifex's intention rung clear.​

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Take your vengeance.​

Gunnr Zambrano ​

 

[Gunnr Zambrano]

“The Cherub…” As Gunnr stood transfixed on Darth Carnifex ’s eyes, her fingers folded over the pistol he prepared his bride. Carnifex always knew her innermost desires, and as Gunnr turned to face the Old Boar, an intrinsic foreboding surfaced. To look at the Boar was to look at the epicentre of pain. The gun in her hands… what was it called? No, it couldn’t have a name it was just a pistol, a pistol weighted with the lung-crush of a mind mistaken. Gunnr searched the atmosphere round them for air, and found none outside the stern but noble gaze of her lover and husband, who seized this one weapon. This one six chambered gun.

How did Koemi know the inner mind of a fellow Epicanthix, who shared the genetic immunity to mental infiltration? His voice coated her mind in dream, years of the Emperor’s dotage from distant systems when they were apart. Another descent of the blade. Gunnr blinked, her chin unsettled until the Emperor stroked her cheek with a gentle hand, deep red and black eyes cold in their warrior’s sympathies. She nuzzled into his hand and the confusions cleared.

Gunnr as a child lived perpetually upon Panatha, aside from trips her family took with her to planets, which held wondrous flora for the young botanist to study. Her life was idyllic, a contented childhood wrapped in her mother’s arms as they hunted in the Panathan wilds. Education at the feet of Papa Girak, with the comforting image of a loving, but blind grey-clad father, eyes covered with a scarf at all times. Whispers warned of wayward Aunt Aditya and her child, who lived in bone and blood while her fortunate cousins Althea and Gunnr lived in jungle and clear sweet waters. She remembered the pride, holding Papa Girak’s religious implements as she met the God-King of Panatha as a child. Then again, a chance meeting (carefully planned by Grandmama Aida) at the beach, where the young woman laughed and sparred and sat upon the sand beside the Emperor-King. Listened to his whims by the bonfire in the night. The day he caught her from falling out of a tree, flower in hand, he stroked her back and asked her to grow great with their children, to take his ancestral name as her own... but as she stared at the Old Mandalorian Boar, that happy event coated with pain... injury? She rolled her right shoulder... no, what trickery? Her Koemi’s hand was gentle as he spun her about, back to face the Boar.

As Gunnr raised the pistol, her brow furrowed. She stared at the singularity of pain which swirled around the Mandalorian man and his broken, cerulean eyes. Eyes which finally lifted. Eyes which saw.

Strained by the wire shutting his mouth, Kaine Australis bucked against the bonds only once, his face a contortion as Gunnr’s breath ebbed. A man held a baby in his arms, eyes fresh with tears as he brought the infant to her mother’s distraught arms, her blind father beside her not in Panathan robes but Beskar’gam. A man leading the charge in battle, petulant in his refusal to cooperate. A man who challenged more than he repaired. A man who set food on children’s plates, passed endless bottles of tihaar and refused to allow the cold veneer of command to eat a young woman alive. A woman who slept in armour out of duty and imagined safety. “No, ad’ika! That’s Baba’s gun. Baba’s going to shoot nasty Carnipoo with it… here…” Gunnr gasped aloud as that memory too drifted by her conscious state, then faded to lethe’s oblivion with the echo of six shots.

Six roars from the old Boar. ​

The pistol quivered in her hand. Gunnr’s chin shifted to the side, emerald eyes bearing flecks of amber locked upon the Mandalorian scourge’s. Australis’ lungs surged, bloodshot eyes refused to leave the pretty but severe face. For one moment, the Boar softened, and Gunnr felt a shameful gut-rot which could have doubled her over if not for the silent strength of her mate's warmth behind her.

Six roars from the old Boar. ​

She was drowning in decrepit black waters. Until her Koemi crafted for her a life without pain, her death an unfortunate accident. Drowned in a rough sea. There were no Mandalorians beside the horror stories told of Yasha and Aunt Aditya. The unfortunate Infernal, killed in her former throne room by… It must be some trick. Unfamiliar pain ripped into her chest as the sounds of six shots echoed through ears which never… no, never heard them. Still the Boar searched her eyes.

And while her mind attempted to connect the gut-wrench of the Boar’s gaze with memories no longer present, she raised the pistol. Why did the Cherub feel familiar in hand?

“Vengeance… is mine.” The trigger slid easily with the weight of her finger. Depressed the hammer, which released the slug on its’ trajectory. Each shot echoed, the pistol bucked against her grip and destroyed another tangible piece which tied the ache in Gunnr’s confusion to unattached memory. She was a child of Panatha, a daughter loved and salvaged when those in the Galaxy were stricken by the Netherworld, or by war. She was the wife of Kaine Zambrano, mother of sons and a young daughter, who barely walked. She knew no life but that which wore her shoulders and bone-cage, such memories were long wiped clean by Carnifex’s healing hand. As the boar’s wail strained with each bullet penetrating a target on his body, the corner of Gunnr’s eye saw Adara’s face turn into the veil of a flinch.

For one last moment, Gunnr thought to tell the girl to close her eyes, to let her moth… Adara stepped into Carnifex’s shadow, her posture perfect, fingers clenched tight together under her navy blue bell sleeves. Carnifex’s all consuming gaze lit upon Gunnr’s spine like living magma. ‘Everything will be alright, my love’ he seemed to say, in his indomitable silence. Words she felt twined in her soul, everything will be alright, my love, trust me. Then darkness swathed with deep, black waters.

“F-for us.” The final slug exited with a whisper so faint none but a lover could have heard it. And everything was indeed alright. The ritual could continue, and the pistol dropped empty to the ground, its’ weight and the weight of the Boar’s pains shattered so thoroughly, no flicker nor thought could reach her. How could such ills storm the bastion of her mind, when Kaine Zambrano constructed its’ follies and keeps so close to a wounded Hell Child’s most secret desires?

“Adara, cousin, it’s time to let go.” What hope remained in Adara’s eyes shattered. The teenager’s chest heaved, she tried so hard to be brave and immutable, but these were such confusing and overwhelming times. Gunnr pulled Adara close to her side, and with the smile of knowing she was precisely in her proper place, Gunnr leaned back against the Emperor’s chest. The tempest of her mind was done, and on the other side of her vengeful act, Gunnr felt no sympathy nor pity for those who came upon the wrong side of her husband’s dichotic nature. The descent of the blade no longer slid with mental images of sigil or Clan, for she was a daughter of Panatha and never learned such outsider’s things. Her hand tugged Adara’s chin against her, a rare maternal act for a distraught, motherless child. She didn’t stop when Adara’s silent tears flowed upon Gunnr’s armour, the girl’s shivering arms fixed around Gunnr’s waist, her black eyes looking upon the indomitable face of her cousin-Emperor. “Look at them no more, little cousin. Let this be the end.”

 

[Lark]

Lightly treading upon the thin railing of a balcony, Lark observed the executions with a passive gaze. So many others cheered, rapturous applause followed every head that dropped. He understood all of the celebration. The war against the Mandalorians had been waging for as long as Lark had joined the Empire, it seemed at times. And despite their recent victories, he doubted there would be an end to the conflict anytime soon. Mandalorians were stubborn, hard-headed people. Lark held no personal ill-will towards them. But they stood in the way of peace, so as long as they fought against the Empire every last one would need to be eliminated.

Despite all the grandstanding, it was wise to make the executions such a spectacle. The Empire had dealt with its own share of losses in the past few months, perhaps revelry such as this would inspire the populace. Ensure that their devotion to the Empire remained absolute. The crowd's hatred towards the Mandalorians grew as the Emperor spoke, the symbolic gestures were not lost upon them. It was the type of malice the Empire needed to fuel their wars going forward.

Lark could only chuckle as he watched their passion. He didn't blame them for relishing in this moment. This was progress. A step in the right direction. But their work was not yet finished.

He rest his back against the edge of a pillar, letting his right leg drift over open air as he gently swirled a glass of dark red wine. All of this came in the wake of the scouring of Myrkr, his birth planet. It only felt right that the place that built him was little more than a mountain of ash now. He had thought he'd have spent more time contemplating the destruction of his birthplace. About what it meant, how it would affect his mindset. But now that he was whole again, he was pleasantly surprised when he hardly even gave the place a second thought. Myrkr was gone now. That's just the way it was.

Eventually, all would follow Myrkr's path.

Kaine Australis was finally dragged out, the jeers hurled towards him were as deafening as the most rapturous orchestras. and the celebrations of his death would surely be ten times as cacophonic. The balcony Lark rested upon was a few levels below where Gunnr Zambrano and Darth Carnifex stood, and though he could not hear what was said he witnessed moments of their interaction. Wordlessly, Lark turned and looked at Australis, curious to witness what the man's final moments would be like.

Lark took a sip of wine as the shots rang out, one after another. Despite the noise, they seemed to echo throughout the courtyard. Australis' end was as pitiful as any other. It wouldn't be long before his name was forgotten. The galaxy would turn as it always had.

Yes, the death of the Mandalorians meant little.

But the incendiary furor directed towards them would shake the stars for years to come.

Lirka Ka Darth Empyrean Onrai Velok Brokentusk