The Fall[Open]

[Vrak Nashar]

​

​

Plans. Schemes. Plots.​

​

One could work on them for a hundred years, a millenia or more, and yet eventually they all seemed to crumble. It didn't matter their side, Jedi or Sith, it didn't matter their cause or the thought behind them. Nothing goes exactly as one planned, nothing runs its course perfectly. It is the way of things, the Galaxy injects Chaos into every plan, every scheme, no matter who formed it. It was an inevitable truth.​

​

One that would always come to pass.​

​

Athiss​

​

"My Lord."​

​

A voice rang out within the darkness of the Temple, Vrak's eyes immediately snapping open from his meditative trance. A frown pulled on his lips, a weariness inching its way into his being. He could already sense it, the trouble that was on the rise around him. He frowned for a few moments, his gaze falling to the floor in front of him as he tried to pick away at the odd disturbance that seemed to linger within the force.​

​

He slowly turned towards the man. "Speak."​

​

The figure shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable with what was about to be said. Vrak could see the fear in his eye, the anguish at having to be the one to deliver whatever message that he held. Impatience pulled through the Pureblood, and then finally the man managed to spit out whatever sentence he had been hoping to string together within his mind.​

​

"Lord Niril has launched an Assault on Korriban. He's using the fourth and Second fleet to try to claim the planet for himself."​

​

Vrak let out a curse as soon as the words were said, pulling himself to his feet just a second later. There had been rumblings as of late, members of the Council who were displeased with their place in the Empire. They wanted more, more power, more men, more soldiers. Serenno hadn't been enough for them and with the conquest still unsure it seemed that some of his fellow Council members were now through with their patience. The Pureblood moved forward in an instant, pulling his saber-staff to his hand and letting the weapon still on his hip just a few seconds later.​

​

"Call the Fleet, contact Lord Drakash. I wa-" Vrak suddenly found himself interrupted.​

​

"My Lord, that's not all."​

​

Anger flared across Vrak's features.​

​

"Half of the Sphere of War has defected, Men loyal to Lord Berilin have taken elements of the Armada and are headed here."​

​

Vrak stopped in his tracks, looking towards the servant for a few seconds as anger flared through him. Without thinking his hand lashed out, a powerful wave of the force ripping across the ground and sending the man hurtling towards the wall. There was a loud crack as intricate stone work was instantly shattered by the force of the impact. The servant let out a groan, but Vrak ignored him.​

​

If the Armada was split the Borders of the Empire were now weakened, couple that with Lord Niril's foolish attempt to take Korriban Vrak knew that most of the Resurgent Empire's fleets were now occupied. He scowled.​

​

It had always been inevitable in a way. He had killed Berilin, and those loyal to him had always wanted him dead, now they had the opportunity to fulfill that goal. The Empire was weak, it was crumbling. The very nature of Sith, of his own people was coming back to bite them. The fools did not see that their own petty infighting would lead to their downfall. The Pureblood took a breath, his lips thinning, and then he stalked from the room. Two Red Guards stood by the door, each of them awaiting a command.​

​

"Send the fleet towards the edge of the system." That would distract the late Lord Berilin's former forces. "Contact Sera and bring her to the Temple."​

​

Things would move fast now.​

​

The seeds of chaos had been sown within The Empire. The Councilors were turning on one another and it was only a matter of time before their underlings followed their lead. Within a matter of hours The Empire would be despotic, and it's worlds would burn from the inside out. Vrak knew this, he had not foreseen it, but he knew well enough what it meant.​

​

The Empire would Fall.​

 

[Cortana Jade]

Spoiler

[youtube]https://youtu.be/VTsD2FjmLsw[/youtube]

[member="Trextan Voidstalker"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"]

Hmmm....

An inner snarl...something akin to an animal.

His chest rose and fell, his breathing picked up.

There was a sense of urgency in his veins, his body felt light and all he could think about was how Jed' death could have went down. When he found out, it threw him into a fury. He'd seen his face...and it circulated through his head constantly. He had already made up his mind.

For him it was personal just as it was sanctioned. He'd just recovered his connection to the Force...his journey to himself had allowed him to come to terms with some of his internal pain, but after hearing the final message left behind for him it activated something inside of him; fury.

When his saw his reflection in the glass, it had shifted into something else. It wasn't him...but it was Jed.

"No." he said in short.

"Until I have his head, I will never stop."

His mind drifted into a white space, before him memories replayed in succession of what it was before facing his own demons. Then all fell silent and could feel the world around him again...

 

[Klesta]

Ziost Airbase. Since somebody in a carbonite block with a lady in it was recovered near the premises, some of the more radical anti-conscription militants quickly stashed it away from Imperial authorities. Or so they would think: they also knew that they couldn't do anything about it after the crisis has subsided. Codenamed Yula, the lady in the carbonite block was given a facelift once the block of carbonite was de-frosted, and kept under anaesthesia while the facelift took place. Except that the conscription crisis did not quite subside in the way they hoped it. Rebellions are erupting all over the place, all across the Caldera, and Ziost Airbase now lies under the control of the anti-conscription group. Once Yula's body is brought to the hallway leading to the landing pads, her eyes begin to open, and she complains that she can't see a thing, as if she was walking into a ysalamir bubble at night. The Hapan begins to question where she even is in the first place, in front of the airbase personnel, which is visibly nowhere near full-strength:

"Where... am I? Who am I? What am I even doing here?" Yula asked.

"The block of carbonite had no identification transponder, so, due to the circumstances of how the last anti-conscription activist died, uncovering the conscription crisis, we will call you Yula. We are in Ziost Airbase, we couldn't leave your body out there or else something grave would have befallen you, one way or another" the base's quartermaster answered, with Yula not suspecting that, in fact, the base's steward was the lead guy who went out to recover her body.

"Why am I even here? I used to be on Castameer"

"You're the only one that the surviving pilots trust to be under their command: they only seem to trust Sith at the upper echelons of the chain of command, and Sith that have any dogfighting skill are scarce. The Sith Empire made no attempt to fetch them, however"

"Surviving... pilots? Where did the others get shot down?" Yula asked, oblivious about what befell the pilots that used to call the base home.

"Ord Radama; the Emperor in person took the elite pilots of the Empire as a security detail in this foolish mission to fetch something Malgus left behind or some such thing, the elite craft even, fourteen squadrons of MS-10s"

Yula shook her head in disbelief, upon seeing the effects of just how depleted the elite piloting division of the Resurgent Empire is. MS-10s, elite fighters? These were as vanilla as they come anywhere else: anybody using carrier tactics in light-sider-land would realize that the need for quality craft is important for carrier tactics to work. And even herself back on Mandalore. There were heavy losses in standard-issue Sith interceptors over Serenno and Ord Radama, if the AARs were any indication. "What do we have left?"

"There isn't a whole lot of aircraft left, milady: we have only about one squadron left. Our airspace is vulnerable, and, if you could help us purchase us a squadron of aircraft or two, it would be well-appreciated, perhaps three, but I doubt we have the pilots for more than four at this stage"

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

​

"L-Lady?" A mousey feminine voice echoed into the darkness of the chamber where only the light from the final embers of a once burning fire still lingered. Behind it, two deeply set emerald eyes shimmered, reflecting the brief orange glow that still clung to life. The woman in the entryway paused, hesitant to enter, as if there might be some great feral beast that might swallow her up if she dared breach the line she stood before. Perhaps it was the nature of the temple, the darkness that encapsulated it, the nauseating feeling some humans took to its nature. When the Twi'lek finally acknowledged the girl's existence, their eyes meeting, Seraphina could feel the fear within. It was almost amusing, if not outright annoying. The woman didn't seek to be feared, but it was simply how things were. Vrak was feared, and her companionship to him extended that fear to her by nature.​

​

"Yes?" Came the cold, raspy response from across the room. "I'm s-sorry for disturbing you, but Lord Nashar wishes your presence immediately in the main hall." The meek tone carried with it more than simply fear of her, but she could sense that whatever Vrak was summoning her for was unlikely a trivial matter. It never was. The Twi'lek had felt a disturbance in the Force earlier, a shifting of sorts. It preceded the feeling of rage she sensed in Vrak moments before the servant had called out for her. "Very well." She said, slowing pushing herself from the floor of the meditation chamber. A hand extended outwards and a slight gust silenced the remaining few burning embers. engulfing the room in total darkness.​

​

Several months had passed since the two had learned of their situation, and the woman was beginning to display the more prominent signs of nature taking over. Her clothing had shifted to a more loosely fit, almost clichè style of Sith garment. Dark robes, if nothing else it made it all the more difficult to tell, though she had heard the rumors spread, true as they were it still irked her that they spoke of it. Quickly she made way from the meditation chamber to the main hall where Vrak stood.​

​

"You asked for me?"​

​

[member="Vrak Nashar"]​

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

Anger singed around him, his fingers latched onto the metal railing that ringed around the entryway of the great hall. He peered down into the desperate pit that the hall was centered around, darkness staring up at him. He frowned for a moment as he heard Seraphina's voice, his lips thinning as he slowly turned away from the Abyss and regarded the woman. "We need to leave."

There was no two ways about it.

Berelin's servants would be on Athiss within the next few hours, and once they struck others would soon get ideas. He'd already been informed that the fighting over Korriban had begun, the Resurgent Legion's were all but crumbling into a dozen different sects. He doubted that the troops stationed here on Athiss would follow his commands for much longer, the Red Guard would stay at his side of course, but they could only take them so far. The Pureblood scowled, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

"Members of the Council have grown impatient." He explained, motioning for Seraphina to follow him.

"Niril is assaulting Korriban. I can only assume that if he takes it he'll declare himself Emperor." Though of what Empire Vrak had no idea. A curse escaped his lips as they reached the edge of the stairs that would lead them to his chambers and eventually the Hangar. "The others will fight among one another and in the process destroy everything we...I have built."

His fingers tightened into a white knuckle grip. "The Vultures will come after that."

Picking at the corpse. Vrak scowled, and then practically began to stomp up the staircase. In the distance he could hear half a dozen footsteps rushing down the hall, servants and troopers gathering what they could for the coming storm.

 

[Klesta]

"You're still unfit for flight duty. Until your hibernation sickness is cured, you cannot take to the skies to defend Ziost from the other internal factions of the Empire" the chief medical officer warned Yula.

"How many pilots do we have left? I get that most of the pilots that would otherwise be on hand to defend the Caldera were killed in the Serenno campaign, I'm not the most awake at this time"

"Fifty, maybe sixty, on all of Ziost. While they might enjoy a special status in the Empire, aircrew is, like every other branch of the imperial military, having recruitment problems, especially not in the wake of the Serenno campaign" the quartermaster told her.

"Other worlds? I would expect Korriban and Dromund Kaas to be prioritized but to what extent?"

"We had to pull out our starfighter garrisons from the Gordian Reach entirely, and Telos as well as Tiss'Sharl; while the Zambranos still ensure the defense of Thule, Korriban and Dromund Kaas have two squadrons each left"

"We have nine squadrons left to defend the Caldera? That's ridiculous! The Sith Empire or the Silver Jedi will eat our airpower alive!"

Seventy-five squadrons. This represented the majority of the Resurgent Empire's starfighter strength. 14 squadrons of elite pilots, 61 of the rabble. So from the looks of it, the Empire has only about 8 squadrons left, or 9 at most for its defense, spread all over the Caldera. In the light of this, who to bring those pilots to? Who to defect to? The Sith Empire? Never! To Yula, they harbor the same monsters as the Rogue One Sith she used to serve; the ROS were such monsters during the Omega crisis that even the non-rogue One Sith, or whatever was left of it at the time, wanted to fight them, despite being monsters in their own right. But it would do no good for either the surviving pilots or the receiving faction to get a flight leader that can't herself fly. But it seems that Yula's brain is faster to reactivate than her eyesight.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Ambition, discord, envy, greed. The sins of every sith empire. At first the promise of power was blinding to the little sith, a shroud of glorious darkness that obscured the shortcomings of their leaders and the inherent weaknesses of their allies. Then one day, when the battles were lost, the armies beaten and the fleets crippled and power was no longer promised the blinding fog departed, revealing the heresy hidden below. Like all those before it the Resurgent Empire had not managed to elevate itself of the mistakes of their forerunners, and now they would pay the price for their failure.

The Prophet had foreseen it.
----------------------------------------------

Malachor, The Tainted City - The Citadel of Darkness

High above his city, caught in the never ending twilight of the broken world, rested the eldritch husk that watched over Malachor. Darth Abyss, the Prophet who rose to forge the ruined, dead rock into his own vision of greatness by coating it in dirt and filth, had waited patiently for the fall of his enemies, an eternal entity that had allied with time itself to see the Resurgent Empire crumble into dust. They had claimed eternity for themselves and by doing so had greatly overestimated their strength, unity and resilience. They had claimed to stand until the end of days, but they would only see the end of their empire.

The myriad of screens that filled the room right on top of the citadel illuminated the most personal quarters of the Mindeater in a dim, synthetic blue light, depicting the fortification of the Free Cities under the careful oversight of his A.I. Glory. News of the internal conflict had not yet reached Malachor, but the all seeing eye had known about long ago, when the Empire still stood at the peak of its power. The ethereal perception of Abyss made it redundant for the man who had stepped into the room, shrouded in a mix of military uniform and sith attire, to make his presence known. With nothing more then a slight raise if his left the husk commanded the agent to speak, without turning around to let his hollow eyes fall upon him.

"My Lord, everything has happened exactly as you foresaw it. The forces of the Resurgent Empire are divided, scattered, those who have not fled have gathered under whatever banner promises the most power."

They had reached the final crescendo in this symphony of chaos, the last act of the ever repeating tragedy of the sith. Today the strings of fate that had heavily intertwined during the short rise and reign of them Empire would be resolved, until one would stand to rule over the ashes.

Abyss had decided that he and Malachor would take a backseat during the war that was about to unfold. The ancient sith worlds were nothing more than planet sized targets, the promised price almost any follower of the dark path set their eyes on. Malachor was the exception, a dead, meaningless rock with little worth to anyone but those few visionary enough to understand what Abyss had given rise to there.

Yet this wasn't just his day of fate, and neither that of the Resurgent Empire. His visions had promised that another string would be cut today. With the end of the Empire, with destruction, ash and rebirth another being would fall to rise again, aided by no one less but the Mindeater himself. [member="Antherion"], his most annoying, most crippled foe still resided in the twilight of Malachor, awaiting the Prophet to pass judgment on his fate.

 

[Trextan Voidstalker]

[member="Rebel Sunka"]

Reckless. Jacen had used the word to describe Trextan on several occasions. He didn't have any particular anger issues, but he was too quick to rise to a challenge before considering his actions. It came from the Sith training. There in the Valley on Coruscant he had been taught time and again that the strong always approached a fight head on. That retreat was for the weak. Empty rhetoric of course. Their mentors had abandoned them quickly when the Alliance had landed on the world and sent the One Sith into retreat. And like a fool he'd stayed behind with the other Acolytes to fight til the end.

What he sensed from Rebel gave him some perspective. Trextan had been summoned to aid in something. The message had been rather vague. He didn't even have to get within metres of the other young man to sense him seething with anger.

"Rebel?" he called out.

 

[Neesa]

"Are you watching carefully?"

Neesa was, but she was trying not to make that obvious. It wasn't easy to hide behind the very real mask of pain. She kept her head bowed low, curled strands of jet black hair covering her face as her eyes darted to take in the room. She was kneeling, with both arms wrapped across her gut. The kick Dunar's massassi had delivered had sent her sprawling across the deck of the bridge. She tried to speak, but it was hard just to suck in air and stop herself from retching.

"I didn't catch that?" Berelin's Shadow Hand knelt down to eye level. He wisely kept his distance. This wasn't the chance she needed.

"Yes," she managed to grunt. Hands grabbed her upper arms from behind and jerked them backwards. She felt metal cuffs clasped to her wrists. She could sense the alchemical binds woven into their fabric. She was dragged to a standing position.

"Athiss," Dunar announced. The view was indeed the world. "I very much doubt killing you will bother Sitas or Nashar in the slightest. But sometimes sending the message is important, even if it won't provoke a reaction?" The pureblood ran his thumb across the edge of a curved sith sword - her sith sword. For her own carelessness it was now her promised fate.

 

[Cortana Jade]

[member="Trextan Voidstalker"]

Gasp.

He snapped out of it at the sound of his name. A daze as his eyes fluttered, then he was able to turn and look. It was Trex...

"Look..." Of course he'd forgotten to completely explain everything to him. His gaze fell towards the ground, the muscles around his jaw throbbed under his skin as he bit down. His nostrils flared before his lips parted for words, "I have to do it, I have to avenge him." his furious gaze landed on his friend. "I finally found Jed' killer...and I want you at my side."

They became acquainted as Padawan...and were on the same path at one point.

"I can't do this without you..."

Trextan had always been the promising one...went all the way up and became a Master. Rebel, well...Knighthood wasn't something he cared for at the time despite all that training. It wasn't until recently that he recovered his abilities after losing them prior to this...

"That's why we came here."

 

[Klesta]

"Am I the only one among the Sith that actually understands starfighter combat? Am I the only Sith stationed here that actually understands anything about the proper usage of conventional forces?" Yula asked in anger after the sad facts about the Imperial airpower have sunk in.

"I understand your anger. Then again you proved yourself on Castameer. That's why we trust you over anyone else: it seems that everyone here is promoted to elite status if they survive three combat sorties, regardless of whether or not they scored any kill, or sometimes, even survive combat sorties at all these days" the base's steward told Yula.

"That said, the Silver Jedi is a formidable enemy when it comes to airpower. I'm not sure about the Sith Empire however"

Serenno/Ord Radama, Malachor, Yavin, Gromas, and even the recapture of the Caldera. Dromund Kaas left no surviving aircraft and it involved a few dozen squadrons. Or so the AARs on Yula's lap would indicate, and they list all the actions taken in all major actions, and the casualty tolls of each. The Silver Jedi is responsible for inflicting over a hundred squadrons in losses? Yula had a lot of catch-up to do on the current state of the Resurgent Empire's starfighter force before she could assume command of the entire force. And on the current state of the galaxy. All she knew at that stage was that starfighter combat, more than even regular ground forces, were the poor kids of Sith factions, and the horrendous casualties the SJ inflicted on the RE's fighters.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Meanwhile, on Ord Radama, the Resurgent Empire fleet was in full retreat, and what fighters she still had on Serenno were promptly microjumped back to Ord Radama, with the interdictor fields deactivated over the planet. An unending stream of reports from all across the sector seem to depict a rather bizarre picture of what happened: some of those reports from Serenno indicated that Houses Borgin and Dooku, in a fit of panic, sold out the Dominion on Serenno, while other reports stated that they failed to make any foothold anywhere in the sector, owing to the massive casualties taken, on the ground and in space, due to the enemy groups turning on each other. The grim picture all these reports from the field depicted made her question why did that enemy even attempt to launch such a massive campaign while they were highly vulnerable to enemy inside jobs. And yet, the incursion on Ord Radama was stopped, both on the ground and in space. While the local garrison in Livien Magnus contributed ca. 300 men, with about a hundred casualties between the Silver Jedi and the local rapid-response force, the Resurgent Legions suffered several times as many casualties, ultimately forcing the enemy commanders to teleport to avoid being roasted to a crisp like their men were.

"General, the enemy commanders teleported out of the scene: it appears that the Emperor himself used some sort of portable Force-device to teleport out of the burning wreckage of the Devastator" the sensor technician reported from the Mantis.

"Teleported from the Devastator? I get that Colonel Calderon successfully forced the enemy to retreat deep inside the Devastator, along with the rapid response team from Livien Magnus, while the thermobaric charge-fueled trap was sprung around them and around Livien Magnus, but he failed to get those Sith to surrender"

"The Devastator fire is apparently a five-alarm fire" Julie reported back in. "With no Resurgent Empire presence remaining on Ord Radama, we are in the clear to send airborne units to extinguish the fire"

"Five-alarm... fire? Thermobaric charge fires require fire retardants that drive oxygen out to put out: deploy one squadron with fire retardants, in a loose formation"

Even though the Guernica bomb bay was not designed for fire retardants, filling Class B firefighting foam inside the space intended to house bombs was much easier than expected. The Devastator was so large that the Silver Jedi protocol for forest fires was in effect for that operation, which required aircraft capable of dropping fire retardants.

 

[Trextan Voidstalker]

[member="Rebel Sunka"]

Trextan was never very talkative. It didnt seem to be in his nature. It was moments like this when he most wanted to conjure the words to express himself eloquently that he most regretted that trait.

He fixed Rebel with a hard stare. "I know and that's why I'm here. But I'm not coming the rest of the way unless I know you can keep it together. I can't."

Without realising he was doing so he relaxed his right hand. "If you can't control your anger they - the Sith - they'll know it. They'll take advantage. Trust me on that."

Trextan hadn't come here to lose again.

 

[Klesta]

It took a few hours but her eyesight has returned somewhat. Not in the best of conditions but she had to make do while flying under these conditions. Perhaps that has to do with the low luminosity of Ziost Airbase, at this time of the day, but the lights are rather dim - and they were in an area with windows. But they couldn't be in the base's aerial tram station; while, of course, due to the treacherous mountain terrain on Ziost, was a necessity, just because it was an area where people would normally not stay there for very long, and not just because it is a security checkpoint. When the remaining sensor technician on duty, which wasn't much, announced that another contact came within the sensor scopes of the enemy. A pirate ship, scavenging over the vulnerable remains of the Resurgent Empire. But while she does not tolerate piracy, deploying will likely invite another counterattack from one of those rebel groups that wishes to assault New Adasta, and the remaining aircraft are the main deterrent. It's entirely possible in Yula's mind that it could be a trap sprung by one of those parties.

"Pirates detected over New Adasta" the sensor technician told Yula.

"I see better by now..."

"Battle stations!" the base steward blared over PA.

"All flight personnel, please report to your commanders immediately! Pirates have been detected over New Adasta" Yula also warned, while scrambling to get to the fighter she has left, for one last battle in the Caldera.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Even though there were no firefighting aircraft on hand on the surface, fire retardants are on standby in the capital's spaceport, should another run of dropping fire retardants on the Devastator's wreck prove insufficient to fight the fire caused by thermobaric charges during the battle for Ord Radama, of which cardinam was a favorite for a fuel. Far from it the idea that she should attempt to use the Force to help extinguish the fire, she knew that her ability to use cryokinesis to do so is limited, and she could not do it on her own. Five-alarm fires meant that there already were nearly 200 firefighters on site, and she wished not to uselessly endanger more lives through smoke. While she might have helped save Ord Radama from the Resurgent Empire, she knew the citizens of Ord Radama would never want the Jedi to see them as just mindless butchers, nor would they deserve to have the city covered in smoke. Or have the fire spread and cause civilian casualties. They preferred proteinic firefighting foams, specifically AR-FFFP, as is usually used to fight tibanna fires. As the squadron closes in to drop their fire retardants at low speed, they realize that they did cover part of the area with those items, but it wasn't enough.

"We need another sortie" the squadron leader reported back to the local firefighters.

"We owe them this much: we ought to limit collateral damage here. I'm not like those Jedi who only wish to slaughter Sith"

 

[Cortana Jade]

His nostrils flared, and his jawline became more prevalent. His eye fluttered before he could fix them back on Trextan. A lot was already understood between them, it was how they worked.

He took a deep breath and released it, doing his best to expel some of the animosity with it; hell it wasn't easy.

He nodded, "I trust you..." his willpower hadn't been the best in recent years but, "You have my word...lets do this." he had to prove it to himself he could. He'd climb that mountain when he got there.

He cracked his neck on both sides before turning back and peering into the warp stars just outside the view port of the ship. His entire demeanor had grown into something akin to an animal. He had a ferocity growing deep down that he couldn't even pinpoint. He would've come by himself but...he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his composure alone.

"So you've been on Athiss this entire time huh..." he whispered to himself.

[member="Trextan Voidstalker"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

Sera eyed him with an air of curiosity, interjecting her own comments partway through the Sith's explanation. "And why exactly is that? I'm quite comfortable." Perhaps now wasn't the time for sassy rhetoric, but there it was, all the same. As if prodding him wasn't expected by now. Though just as she had assumed at the start of this great scheme of his, Vrak's empire was beginning to destabilize and crumble, like all those that came before. It was an inevitability, really. Sera knew well enough that his people were no different than before, that their ambition would see to their self-destruction, and that everything he had worked to accomplish, overthrowing his predecessors, that it would come once more full circle.

And here they stood, upon the precipice of self-destruction.

One might call her a prophet, though she knew it was simply the law of probability. Her arms folded beneath one another. "Emperor? Of what? The ashes?" The Twi'lek scoffed, "The Sith never disappoint my low expectations." Sera dropped her hands, clapping them against her thighs. "Very well, where do you propose we flee to?"

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

Vrak bristled at her words, his hands shaking slightly. Anger was bubbling near the surface, and in truth ti was difficult not to throw her against the nearest wall. Yet he had given his word, and he would keep it. His lips thinned, his gaze drifting around the lobby for just a moment before he finally answered her. "The Nebula."

Construction wasn't finished yet, the droids were still working on the palace itself but nowhere else was safe. Within a few hours Athiss would be under siege and just about the only safe place within Sith Space would be Dromund Kaas. The Ancient Capital still had the armada hanging over it, but Vrak knew sooner or later that planet would fall just as the others did. The Pureblood half turned back towards Seraphina, motioning towards the end of the hall.

"I suspect they'll come for me before long." He told her simply. "And after they kill me, I don't think it will take them long to realize your.."

He trailed off, glancing down at her belly. "...Condition, is due to me."

That was perhaps the best way of putting it.

The Sith that were coming here, Berelin's former lackeys were on their way because they despised him personally. It was a vendetta, nothing less. They wanted him dead and everything that tied to him gone. Right now, that included Seraphina.

"So we go to the Fortress." He told her, anger still dripping from his tone. "Earlier than expected, but at least it solves one of your complaints."
He gave her a small sneer, reminding her of the complaint she'd had of his absences.

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

The amusement playing on her lips would appear obvious. Vrak's empire was of little concern to her. She didn't need the empire for anything. It was simply a tool, a tool of convenience. It afforded them relative safety in a region of space, unhindered travel, and a fleet. These things however were all things she had lived without for the vast majority of her life, and thus she could continue to live without for the remainder of her days. The Sith mattered little to her, a fleeting speck among cosmic sands.

She wouldn't die for it. That was for sure. Her credits were already well padded from her previous life that there was little she could dream of that couldn't be within her grasp.

"Very well, but I'm sure I could scrounge up others if you wish for more." Her hand dragged slowly along his arm. "I know how much you enjoy my complaining."

The woman was confident that even in her state she could elude the lackeys of a dead Sith council member, the galaxy was a big place. Still, best not to be in the same system when they arrive and start looking.

"Let's go before we have to fight our way out."

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

Vrak stalked down the hall, his hands scrunching into tight fists as Serpahina gently stroked her fingers across his arm. She was pressing, pushing at a time that he was standing precariously close to the very edge of a cliff. "I'm sure you can."

He mocked in a seething tone.

The Empire had always been a means to an end, he hadn't seen it as the finale of his life or anything of the sort. Yet there was a certain agitation that came with it's destruction. He had more wealth than he could ever know what to do with, but wealth didn't buy you fleets, it didn't buy you planets and it couldn't buy you conquest. Sure it could help, but the loss of The Empire meant that things would once again become more difficult for him, more difficult for his child.

He frowned for a moment, glancing at Sera. They would have to hide, at least for the time being. Berelin's Lackeys would eventually burn themselves looking for him and in that time he would prepare, search for new possibilities. The Pureblood wandered forward, taking Sera down several hallways before they eventually reached a landing platform. Half a dozen Red Guards stood in place in front of his ship, though with a wave of his hand they dispersed.

"My lord, several ships have entered the system."

Vrak scowled. "No delays, we're leaving."

The Shuttle had stealth components, their flight would be unnoticed as long as the Red Guard stayed in place and Athiss was protected as though he had remained. It irked Vrak to run like this, to leave everything that he had built behind, but he knew that if his legacy were to come to fruition...they could not stay.