Faction The Hour of Decision || Sith Order

[Aspect of Defiance]

History rarely offered those who shaped it the luxury of recognizing the moment while they were living it.

Most decisions appeared ordinary at first. They were debated in chambers, recorded in archives, and filed away among thousands of other acts of government. Only later did historians return to those records and identify the meetings that altered the course of nations. Borders shifted because someone cast a vote. Empires rose because leaders agreed upon a common purpose. Entire generations inherited peace or war because a handful of individuals reached a conclusion in a room far removed from the consequences.

This gathering carried the unmistakable feeling of being one of those moments.

The capital had witnessed events of consequence before. It had celebrated triumphs, endured crises, and served as the political heart of the Sith Order through years of expansion, uncertainty, and change. The government of a galactic power never truly slept. Legislation continued to move through ministries. Administrators continued their work. Merchant vessels continued to arrive and depart from orbit. Across the city, millions of citizens moved through their daily routines without realizing that the future of the Order was being debated only a short distance away.

Within the halls of government, however, the atmosphere had changed.

The signs had been accumulating for some time.

Along the Blackwall, tensions with the High Republic had steadily increased. Border incidents had become more frequent. Diplomatic objections had become routine. Small conflicts had erupted and been contained before they could spread further. None of those events alone had been enough to justify alarm. Taken together, however, they painted a picture that few among the Sith leadership could ignore. Each report added another layer to a growing understanding that the existing balance between the two powers was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain.

Few among the Sith leadership still believed the situation could continue indefinitely.

The chamber reserved for matters of state had been prepared accordingly. Members of the Dark Council assembled alongside military commanders, intelligence officials, ministers, governors, and trusted advisors whose responsibilities stretched across sectors and star systems. Some governed populations numbering in the billions. Others commanded fleets capable of reshaping entire campaigns. Many had spent decades navigating the burdens that accompanied authority, and every individual present possessed the ability to influence the fate of worlds.

That was precisely why they had been summoned.

A vast hololithic projection occupied the center of the chamber. The map displayed the known galaxy in its entirety, revealing trade routes, military deployments, industrial centers, population hubs, and strategic resources. New information flowed continuously across the display as reports arrived from every corner of Sith space. Fleets shifted position. Economic forecasts adjusted. Intelligence assessments appeared and vanished. The galaxy continued to move even while its leaders deliberated upon its future.

Among the countless stars represented upon the display sat Thyferra.

Its importance required little explanation. Control of the galaxy's largest supply of bacta carried implications that extended far beyond commerce. Every government depended upon medicine. Every military depended upon its wounded surviving long enough to recover. Every prolonged conflict eventually became a contest of resources as much as a contest of arms. Whoever controlled such a resource possessed influence capable of extending far beyond the borders marked upon any map.

Farther across the display rested Naboo, the capital of the High Republic.

Its presence lingered over the proceedings despite the fact that no one had yet spoken its name.

No one present had gathered to decide whether the Sith Order should defend its interests. Repeated attempts to challenge the stability of the Blackwall had already transformed that question into settled policy. The debate before the council was not whether action would be taken. The debate concerned where that action should begin.

Some would undoubtedly argue for securing strategic resources. Others would advocate targeting military infrastructure, trade networks, or political influence. Every proposal carried advantages. Every proposal carried costs. The decisions reached within this chamber would determine not only how a war might be fought, but how the Sith Order intended to shape the galaxy that emerged afterward.

Future historians would almost certainly debate when the conflict between the Sith Order and the High Republic truly began. Some would point toward the first border violations along the Blackwall. Others would cite diplomatic failures, military deployments, or the accumulation of incidents that steadily eroded the possibility of lasting peace. Entire volumes would be written in pursuit of a definitive answer, yet those efforts would likely overlook a simpler truth. Conflicts of this scale rarely begin with a single event. They emerge gradually as governments, institutions, and leaders reach the conclusion that the future can no longer be entrusted to circumstance alone.

Whether this gathering would ultimately be remembered as one of those moments remained to be seen. What could not be disputed was the significance of the decisions now before them. The chamber grew quiet as the last arrivals took their seats, and the great star map continued its slow rotation above the floor while the leaders of the Sith Order turned their attention to the business that had brought them together.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Open

Gerwald remained seated as the final arrivals entered the chamber and took their places around the table. The conversation that had accompanied their arrival gradually faded until only the quiet hum of the hololithic display remained. Above the center of the room, the galaxy continued its slow rotation while fresh reports flowed across the projection from every corner of Sith space.

For several moments the Dread Wolf studied the display without speaking.

The map presented the galaxy in a form that was deceptively simple. Borders appeared fixed. Trade routes appeared orderly. Fleet movements resolved themselves into neat symbols and lines. From a sufficient distance every problem seemed manageable. Experience had taught him otherwise. Every marker represented people. Every world carried obligations. Every decision made within this chamber would eventually affect lives far removed from the individuals responsible for making it.

When Gerwald finally looked away from the display, his attention settled upon those who had gathered.

"I suspect everyone here has more pressing demands on their time than sitting through a speech."

A faint smile crossed his features before disappearing again.

"That is fortunate, because I did not call this meeting to deliver one."

His gaze swept across the room.

"The reality before us is not particularly complicated. The High Republic has continued to test the boundaries established between our governments, and every report that reaches this chamber suggests the same conclusion. The current situation is becoming increasingly difficult to sustain."

Gerwald leaned back slightly in his chair.

"I am not interested in debating whether tensions exist. We have all seen the reports. We have all watched the same developments unfold. Whatever disagreements may exist in this room, I doubt there are many who believe the relationship between our governments is improving."

The holomap continued its slow rotation above them.

"Where we may disagree is on what comes next."

His eyes drifted briefly toward the display.

"Some of you will view this situation through a military lens. Others will focus on economics, logistics, diplomacy, intelligence, or industry. Every one of those perspectives has value because wars are rarely decided by a single battle or a single campaign. They are decided by thousands of decisions made long before the first fleet arrives in orbit."

The room remained silent as Gerwald folded his hands together.

"The question before us is not whether the Sith Order possesses the strength to protect its interests. The question before us is how those interests are best protected and where our attention should be focused if we intend to shape events rather than simply react to them."

His gaze moved once more around the chamber.

"Speak freely. Challenge assumptions. Make your case. If there is wisdom in your argument, it will stand on its own merits."

With that, Gerwald settled back into his chair and turned his attention toward the council.

The discussion could finally begin.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

TAGS: Gerwald Lechner , Lirka Ka , Helix , OPEN

So many Sith in one room was enough to make anyone go insane.

Bickering. Old grudges sparking fresh arguments and bravado.

All behind the chairs of greatness, of the Dark Council that has to wrangle a herd of bloodthirsty children.
​

Nefaron, for his part, was found in the clique of Imperator Lirka Ka, the odd one out on the Dark Council, as they lacked the power of the force but were no less bloodthirsty and cruel. The gaggle that followed the Imperator was unsurprising, made up of Ka's most devoted followers, Warlord Helix and his servants, and finally the Corpse Lord and his fearful band of slavers. Perhaps an unlikely bunch, but they shared a united vision for the galaxy, something that could not be said of the servants of the other Dark Councilors.

The Dread Wolf opened proceedings, keeping things concise as was his way, and all who called themselves Lords were welcome to speak on the direction of the Sith's ire, and of course, the Terror Lord has his own ideas.

"Great Lords, at last we confront our ancient enemy once more. The Jedi and their precious Republic ready themselves for war, ever hunting for holes in the Blackwall to sow discord and chaos amongst our holdings. Should we not return the favor?"

Nefaron pointed at the holomap, Thyferra being the center point of his scheme.

"The Blackwall grants us control over travel into our space; the Republic has no such boon, and their need to protect the weak grants us a unique opportunity."

The Corpse Lord glanced about the room, perhaps eyeing particular Lords and Councilors, but in the end, he settled his gaze on the clique he shared with his fellow Dzara members. A smile, or at least the best Nefaron could muster with his facial deformities, began to form as he continued.

"I know there are those in this chamber with... soft hearts. But if we are to destroy the Jedi, we must exploit all of their weaknesses wherever possible. Let us make for Thyferra, let us blaze a path of destruction and terror as we take the heart of bacta production in the galaxy. We gain a strategic advantage while also creating a tidal wave of refugees that we can force into Republic space, further draining their resources."

But there was more to this scheme. While a refugee crisis alone was difficult to manage, why not introduce further chaos?

"While the High Republic sorts through the weak and wounded, our infiltrators can begin to sow further discord. Funding to separatist and isolationist organizations, assassinations, and even an increase in spice smuggling could all be accomplished, but Thyferra must fall to make any of this possible. If we are to strike out, let us rely on our cunning instead of brute force."

Nefaron stepped back, allowing his scheme to be considered by the council.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Tags: Gerwald Lechner / Darth Nefaron / Helix / Lirka Ka
--------------------------------------------

The galactic display was admittedly quite stunning, a more welcome sight than most others on Jutrand for Him at least. Its accuracy was somewhat debatable given the Blackwall's interference with the flow of information but the grand hologram was a mere set dressing regardless. The true sight to behold would be the coming discussions and decisions that would mark the opening of widespread and concentrated hostilities with the High Republic.

Of course these wouldn't be the first such strikes, far from it in fact, but now purpose would be what guided the next incursions. Direction would steer the fleets into war and orders would designate targets for invasion, rather than the relatively paltry and scarce strikes that the Sith had made thus far. A meeting such as this could only really be called into being by one such as Imperator Lechner and a call was indeed what he made. A call for where the might of the Sith should be brought to bear and in what form.

Darth Strosius didn't see the point of inviting such an open forum in that regard. As ever those with no real experience or interest in the war to come would say their pieces, only heard because they begged and whined at the feet of the Dark Council or the Kainate more than those that would actually be tasked with waging and winning the war itself. Which was precisely why Nefaron of all people spoke up first. As predictable as ever as well, wishing to use simple fear and terror tactics to overwhelm and disorient their foes.

What a shame for him that he only had that one trick, but how lucky he was that Carnifex's hound and the detestable Helix were there at his side for support. With any luck all three of them would find themselves on the wrong end of a lightsaber before this was all said and done. He idly hoped that said lightsaber was His own. Darth Strosius rose from His seat alone, not surrounded by the influential or infamous within the Sith Order but rather by those who more than likely were already regretting their seating arrangement next to Him.

"It's quite fascinating how the only sensible thing you said was that Thyferra should be a priority target. It would almost be impressive if it wasn't so pathetic." The masked man stepped from the crowd with all the confidence of someone that belonged in this war room, as though He thought Himself a rival voice to the Imperators themselves. "Without the resources and armies of the Core Worlds the Jedi are little more than a handful of disparate fools and bleeding hearts. A consideration at best, but certainly nothing worthy of threat or notice beyond whatever world they've built a temple upon."

He gestured to the display with a wave of a gloved hand, the moving lines and glowing systems reflecting in His dark visor. "The people of the Mid Rim are unused to hardship and strain, their lives are comfortable and content. Giving them atrocities and starting crises unnecessarily will only embolden their trust in their pitiful republic. Our goal should be to shatter it, nothing less is acceptable. Without the unified voice of their people, the High Republic is nothing but a bunch of squabbling bureaucrats ripe for the slaughter."

His hidden gaze drifted across the assembly, slowing but never quite settling in one place or on one single soul. "Is our intent not conquest? Is our goal not expansion? If so then what would be the point in sowing such chaos and discord in our future domains? The Blackwall will secure these worlds well enough, a security that we can make the Mid Rim clamor for even. Take Thyferra, strangle their vital avenues and systems, and they will choose submission before starvation. All cowards do."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The chamber didn't grow silent all at once.

It happened in degrees.

First came the faint tremor in the hololithic display, a subtle distortion that moved through the galactic projection like a ripple across still water. Then the light above the floor dimmed, not by command of the room's systems, but because another signal had begun to assert itself through them. Blue radiance gathered at the edge of the chamber, coiling upward from a secured projection dais in thin bands of broken light near the table. Static passed through the air. Symbols stuttered, aligned, and burned themselves briefly into the transmission before vanishing.

Then the Dark Lord of the Sith appeared.

Darth Prazutis sat enthroned within the hologram, immense even in projection, His figure rendered in cold blue light and fractured scan-lines. Behind Him rose the jagged silhouette of a black throne, vast and cruelly angular, its spires reaching upward like the broken fangs of some dead world. Armored robes fell in heavy folds around him. A broad ceremonial belt anchored the regalia at His waist, while the ridged mantle and brutal pauldrons of His attire widened His already imposing frame. Though the transmission distorted color and flesh alike, the small sigil upon his brow remained visible, a darker mark within the pale glare of the projection.

For a moment, He said nothing. He merely listened.

Gerwalds presentation. Nefaron's hunger for terror had been given voice. Strosius had answered with contempt and calculation. Thyferra hung in the center of their arguments like a jewel held between knives. Bacta. Medicine. Supply. Wounded armies. Refugees. Submission through deprivation. Each point had merit. Each point was expected.

The Shadow Hand had heard similar arguments before.

He had heard them in war rooms that no longer existed, beneath banners that had burned, before campaigns whose dead now outnumbered the living governments that had ordered them. He had watched Sith empires decide where to strike, how to bleed an enemy, when to seize a resource, when to shatter a symbol, and when to teach the galaxy that mercy was nothing more than delayed conquest wearing a gentler face.

The blue light of his hologram flickered once. When He spoke, his voice carried through the chamber with the weight of an old verdict. "Thyferra has value." The words were calm. Measured. They were almost generous even.

"No one with even a passing understanding of war would deny it. Bacta sustains fleets, armies, planetary occupations, and civilian morale. To control it is to place a hand around the throat of every government that depends upon prolonged conflict. It is a worthy target. It is a useful target."

His gaze moved slowly across the chamber, passing over Nefaron, then Strosius, then the gathered Dark Council and the officers arrayed beneath them. "But it should not be the first blow." The great galactic projection shifted as a command passed through the chamber's systems. Thyferra remained illuminated, but another world brightened nearby. Green-blue and luminous, set too close to the borders of Sith influence for comfort, and too important to be dismissed as another world among many.

Naboo.

"The High Republic has chosen its capital poorly." Prazutis leaned slightly forward upon his throne, one hand resting against the armrest, the other lifting by a fraction as the map responded to His will. "Naboo sits near our reach. Near enough that every debate in their senate, every order issued by their ministers, every reassurance offered to their citizens, does so in the shadow of the Blackwall. They have placed the heart of their state within striking distance and trusted that tradition, sentiment, and the delusion of restraint would protect it."

A faint pause followed.

"They are mistaken." The word settled more heavily than a shout would have. "Thyferra would wound them. Naboo would unmake their confidence, shatter hope. Thyferra would give us leverage. Naboo would announce that no capital, no institution, no polished chamber of republican authority is beyond the reach of the Sith Order. If we begin by taking bacta, they will rally around the defense of their wounded. If we begin by burning their capital, they will first have to prove they still possess a government capable of rallying at all." The holomap expanded around Naboo. Orbital lanes, defensive approaches, hyperspace access, nearby staging corridors, and projected fleet movements appeared in thin rings of light. The display was no longer a philosophical argument. It had become a campaign.

"Strike Naboo, and we don't merely attack a world. We attack the idea that the High Republic can protect what it claims to represent. Their capital is a symbol, yes, but symbols are not ornaments. They are load-bearing pillars. Break one at the correct moment, and the structure above it begins to question its own weight." His eyes turned toward the military commanders.

"The assault must be overwhelming. Not a raid. Not a demonstration. A blow of such magnitude that every system watching understands the war has entered a new age. We must send a message to the whole of the galaxy. The Mors Mon should serve as the spearhead. Let a Super Star Destroyer lead the charge of the Sith Legions into their skies. Let its arrival be the first truth the High Republic cannot bury beneath speeches, relief funds, or patriotic broadcasts."

The image of the Mors Mon appeared above the map, vast and predatory, its silhouette casting itself across Naboo's orbital projection. "Do this, the Kainate will support such a course." There was no flourish in the statement. No plea for approval. It came as fact.

"Our fleets can reinforce the strike. Our Legions can be committed to the ground war. Our engines of siege and terror can be brought to bear where they will matter most. If the Order chooses Naboo, then let the capital burn beneath the weight of Sith unity."Prazutis' gaze shifted then, colder than the light that composed Him.

"Do not misunderstand me. Thyferra should fall. Its bacta should be seized, its production placed under our control, and its value turned against every enemy that has grown dependent upon it. But wars are not won by resource seizure alone. They are won when the enemy's will is broken faster than its logistics can compensate. The High Republic believes the Blackwall is a frontier problem. A border pressure. A distant crisis to be managed by reports, speeches, and measured deployments." His hand closed slowly against the throne's armrest.

"Show them otherwise." The chamber remained still around the sound of His voice.

"Let Thyferra become the second hand around their throat. Let Naboo be the fist that strikes their face first." The hologram flickered again, briefly revealing the throne behind Him in sharper detail: jagged stone, angular spires, a seat made less for comfort than dominion.

"They expect us to debate the most efficient way to injure them. We should instead decide how best to make every world under their banner understand that the war has already reached the center. Their capital. Their ministers. Their defenders. Their illusion of safety. Rip it all down." Prazutis leaned back into the throne, the movement slow, absolute, and final.

"Burn Naboo. Break the capital. Then take Thyferra from the hands that tremble afterward." His gaze swept across the assembled Sith.

"That is how one begins a war intended to end in conquest."

Gerwald Lechner | Darth Nefaron | Darth Strosius​

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Gerwald Lechner | Darth Prazutis | Darth Strosius | Darth Nefaron​

The hololithic image of Ivalyn Yvarro materialized at the edge of the projection field, not at its center, not commanding the room, but present in the deliberate way she was always present: composed, still, the blue-white light of the transmission rendering her in the particular clarity of someone who had chosen the angle of their own appearance with care. Dosuun was several hours behind the capital's current cycle. It did not show.

She had listened. The full length of the preceding discussion, without interruption, without the impatient shifting that characterized people who were waiting to speak rather than actually hearing what was being said. When she did speak, it was with the even cadence of someone who had already arrived at a position and was now simply offering it to the room.

"If I may." Not a question. A courtesy, extended as such.

She let a breath pass before she continued. "While Naboo, and Thyferra present as excellent starting points..." Her voice trailed off as she brought up her own proposal.

"The council has discussed this in terms of military objectives, and rightly so. I would offer a complementary frame, one the Commonwealth is perhaps better positioned to contribute, given where we sit within the broader order." A brief pause. "Not where to strike. Where to hold."

Her gaze moved across the assembled faces with the attentiveness of someone who understood that a room like this one was itself a kind of intelligence.

"The High Republic's strength is not its fleet. Its fleet is significant, but fleets can be matched. Its strength is coherence, the ability to move resources, personnel, and political will across a large territory quickly and with relatively little friction. That coherence depends on specific corridors. Specific access points." She did allowed the map to speak for itself "Disrupt those, and you do not defeat the High Republic militarily. You reduce its ability to function as a unified entity. The distinction matters."

A slight pause the kind that preceded precision rather than uncertainty.

"The Commonwealth's economic analysis identifies three categories of pressure that would be meaningful without requiring the Order to commit to a single decisive action prematurely." She let the number land before continuing. "The first is corridor control, along the Mara Corridor, the lanes that allow rapid reinforcement between the Republic's core territories and its more exposed positions. Constrain those and you increase response time considerably. The second is political adjacency, Hosnian Prime through to the Mimban, Manaan systems whose symbolic or administrative significance to the Republic is disproportionate to their military value. Pressure there produces a different kind of cost than a fleet engagement. And the third-" A fractional pause. "-is what I would call quiet accumulation. Territory that does not announce itself as contested until it is already resolved. Going from Enarch to M'haeli."

She offered this without drama. The way a person offers a map they have been studying for some time and have decided is accurate.

"I am not proposing specific targets in this forum. That determination belongs to the military command and the Dark Council, and I would not presume otherwise." The composure was complete and genuine in equal measure. "What I am suggesting is that the Commonwealth's position, and its intelligence resources, are available to inform those determinations, in whatever level of detail is useful. We have been watching these corridors for some time. We have an interest in the outcome of this that is, I think, self-evident."

Her eyes moved briefly across the projection, the slow rotation of the galaxy map, the soft pulse of fleet positions, the quiet geometric logic of borders that were about to become contested.

"The Sith Order has endured longer than most of its adversaries expected it to. So has the Commonwealth, for that matter." The faintest thing that was not quite a smile, the one that appeared when she was saying something that was true in more registers than the one she was currently occupying. "We have learned that the most durable campaigns are the ones that consider not only how they begin, but what they intend to inherit when they are finished."

She settled back slightly.

"I am at the council's disposal."

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Darth Nefaron | Darth Strosius | Darth Prazutis | Ivalyn Yvarro

The Dread Wolf listened while the discussion unfolded around the chamber. The answers offered thus far fell largely within the range of possibilities he had anticipated before the meeting had ever begun. Councils of this size rarely drifted toward consensus in their opening stages. Too many perspectives sat around the table. Too many responsibilities shaped the way each participant viewed the galaxy. Military commanders saw campaigns. Politicians saw populations. Intelligence officers saw opportunities hidden between facts. Every voice carried its own priorities.

Above them, the hololithic map continued its slow rotation. Worlds drifted through the projection while trade routes and military assets shimmered across the darkness between stars.

Thyferra had been among the first targets raised. Darth Nefaron focused upon disrupting the bacta supply and denying the High Republic access to one of its most valuable strategic resources. The logic was difficult to ignore. Wars were sustained through logistics as much as armies, and few resources possessed the galactic importance of bacta.

Naboo itself had also entered the discussion.

The suggestion had come from Darth Prazutis , who rarely concerned himself with caution when a direct path presented itself. Gerwald could not deny the appeal. Naboo sat close to the border and occupied an obvious place within any strategic assessment of the conflict. The problem was that obvious targets tended to attract obvious defenses. The High Republic would commit resources to its capital that it would never expend elsewhere. Any campaign aimed directly at Naboo would almost certainly become a contest of attrition before it ever became a victory. The cost in lives alone made Gerwald wary of pursuing such a course prematurely.

His attention shifted briefly toward Darth Strosius.

Darth Strosius had taken exception to portions of Nefaron's proposal and had done so with arguments that carried a degree of wisdom Gerwald found difficult to dismiss. The observation was mildly amusing. There had been a time when the man himself had demonstrated little patience for restraint or measured decision making. Age had a tendency to teach lessons that youth often rejected. Whether Alisteri had truly learned from those mistakes or merely survived them remained an open question, though the distinction mattered less than it once had.

Ivalyn Yvarro offered a proposal carried merit as well.

The strategy she outlined reached beyond what the Sith Order alone could comfortably commit while simultaneously expanding its territory and obligations. Her willingness to offer Commonwealth resources helped address some of those concerns and transformed the proposal from an ambitious concept into something worth serious consideration. Even so, the scale of the undertaking demanded further examination before Gerwald could commit himself to supporting it.

Regardless of which course ultimately prevailed, one reality remained unchanged.

The Sith Order could not afford to reveal its intentions too early.

"Naboo is close and near our border, but it is also the most obvious target."

Gerwald's voice carried evenly through the chamber.

He left the thought there.

Others were more than capable of explaining the military realities that followed. Any serious move against the High Republic's capital would require the systematic disruption of its ability to reinforce, resupply, and maneuver long before the first fleet ever arrived in orbit. Reaching Naboo was not the challenge. Reaching it under favorable conditions was.

His gaze eventually settled upon Ivalyn.

"Thyferra is more than a military objective. It is an economic one."

The Dread Wolf leaned back slightly in his chair while considering the implications.

"I see value in what you suggest, and I am genuinely intrigued by it. However, if our goal is to conceal our broader intentions, does securing the bacta trade not offer a measure of misdirection? It is valuable enough to justify action on its own merits, while also providing a reason for military movement that does not immediately draw attention toward more ambitious objectives."

The question was genuine.

Gerwald already had his own thoughts on the matter, but the purpose of the council was not to hear himself speak. It was to examine ideas from every angle before decisions were made that could shape the course of the coming war.

 

[Lirka Ka]

TAGS: Darth Strosius Helix Ivalyn Yvarro Gerwald Lechner Darth Nefaron Darth Prazutis

There were those in attendance who intended to be there in the future, when these days were little more than footnotes in great tales spanning generations - though flaming faith Lirka would recount this war as she recounted many others. Primordial Darkness beckoned to those mighty enough to survive the call of oblivion. For long as the Republic lived, it would be a disease upon the Galaxy, spreading the debilitating cancer of peace to those who could be risen to savage heights. As long as a single believer in Darkness still drew breath, this war would continue. For war had never ended; it merely transformed with the march of time. From the first day Light and Dark clashed, to this gathering of evil today.

For now, this would-be historian listened. Surrounded by the wicked and the horrid of the Dzara and its Dream Eaters. The simple click, click, click of a metal claw against the table as the calculus ran in her head - Darth Nefaron Helix and herself were warmongers. Cravers of conflict who had waited for the wider Order to embrace conflict with their neighbor, shadowed hands pushing towards this bloody conflict from the pushing of Moorja to the raid upon New Cov. If the new Age of the Sith were to commence - it would need to be christened with Republic blood, just as it were in days of yore. Silent amusement within the Once-Sephi's twisted form, she had scorned obsession with the history of their people for so long yet the throughlines of it all had become undeniable.

A brief relish for the raw power in the room, now satisfied with her strumming over the various propositions, the Empire's Third-Imperator finally tossed her thoughts into the pile. Speaking in the sort of ethereal tone she so often carried in matters of religious import.

"Despair is a slow suffocation. Hopeful as we may be to crush their windpipe quickly."

She held no love for her fellows. All were stepping stones now to her apotheosis that danced so close, and yet so far away. Yet even Lirka could not deny the true power of the Sith was when this mangled hive of belief hummed in murderous unison. To tighten the leash and bring the menagerie of forces under one black banner once more.

"A bountiful banquet of prey sits before us, skirting against our wall. Thyferra has earned our attention - so I shall posit to you all a wound most grievous. One to ripple through generations. We are the Sith are we not? Masters of dark sciences, those with the strength to defy the natural order. We hidden behind the shroud of the Blackwall have had no need for the nectar of Thyferra. Conquest is tantalizing, yet if hopelessness is to take hold, a Thyferra defiled, diseased with darkness, shall send ripples through the entire Galaxy."

A suggestion of little shock. Why conquer a thing when you could bend it to your ends? It was a slaver's way of thinking. Their people had mastered sorceries a-plenty to men their wounds that the rest of the Galaxy did not have hearts black enough to dare attempt. A potent advantage.

"The beginning of their suffocations."

She looked to Darth Strosius now - a man so oft zealously opposed to her existence, and spoke with the plainness she would any colleague. Though she felt confident, it would be to the man's chagrin. Alas, appearances mattered.

"Indeed. Left with no choice, those of weak hearts will kneel before death. The infection of our agents is not random pandemonium; it is a controlled chaos tempered by shadowed hands. Their starvation can begin with a single world, but its grip will not tighten till its ripples are felt far and wide. We possess the tools to dispose of rabble with little effort, to rebuild that which we so please in an image of our making. Let us conquer and expand through the host of a fallen eidolon, whose people have scattered to the wind, just as we have the worlds of the crumbled Alliance."

She leaned back in her seat some now.

"Your assessment is not inaccurate. Atrocity will rally their spirits - just as any action will. To that end, the Dread Wolf's words ring true. Naboo is an obvious choice, and more than that, it is a prime martyr. We could burn the world to the ground, turn its forests to ash and boil its seas till nothing remains. But I believe I speak for many in this room, that if Jutrand were to be treated the same, we would not cower to our destroyers: we would rally in fury most great. If Naboo is to die. It must be the final slash. The last statement of hopelessness in a slew."

Though even she could deny there was a certain grim glee to be found in the prospect of Theed aflame.

"I will not speak to concealment of our intention, for the Blackwall is our great shroud. But when the first Star Destroyer enters orbit, I would not dare to underestimate our foe enough that they will not know our intention. No Republic shall survive. No edifice to the ways of the Jedi, and their diseased democracies. The front is wide - that will offer us concealment enough as we bleed them."

It is unfortunate that such conflicts were so simple. She would certainly like if the Republic rolled over and died with little resistance, casualties be damned. But the nature of the warfront flipped her statement on their Order just as much as it did their enemy.

"Our colleague in the Commonwealth words are wise. Indeed, our minds must consider that which needs to be held just as much as that which needs to be taken. I shall remind us of the bloodshed of Brosi - the Blackwall is our greatest strength, but it remains far from infallible. The speed at which the Republic ilk can respond means we must expect a swift counterattack. For any general would see that for as much as we can bleed them, they can bleed us just the same. While so oft is our hammerblow one to ring throughout the Galaxy, but to this end I shall now posit a rare restraint - let us hold back the greatest of vessels. Just as the Mors Mon defended our Holy Worlds, let us have the response fleet prepared to smash the first fool that dares to step foot in our wall."

Already, Lirka could see the bloodshed in her mind's eye. A war that would span systems, so vast was their borders that the potential for conflict was almost overwhelming. She could smell glory in the air, a great mountain of carrion to plunder and extrude that which she needed - and in the fires of this chaos, so would come the transience of the Primordial Darkness she both venerated and loathed.

​

​

 

[Irina Jesart]

Irina was statue standing in the shadows behind her Master, Gerwald Lechner , the soft glow of the projection reflected in dark eyes ringed with fire as her eyes shifted over each attendant as they spoke. The debate was simple, Thyferra or Naboo. It was not a question of whether they should anymore, it was about which planet would feel the wrath of the Sith Order first.

Lord Nefaron advocated for Thyferra, for destabilisation and terror tactics. Irina disagreed. If they were to destroy the Republic, to take their worlds, terror would only serve to make it harder to control those worlds once victory was assured.

Lord Strosius was of a similar mind, controlling the resources to undermine the Republic without relying on fear was the better route. Interesting that such an infamously disruptive figure would preach against such chaos. She wondered how much of that was based on strategy, and how much from experience.

Then came Lord Prazutis, his entrance to the chamber unnecessarily dramatic for a man attending via hologram, had she not been well schooled in the art of controlling her external reactions to things, she might have rolled her eyes. But his words, however, were worth listening to. Naboo wasn’t just the capital, it was the foundation of the Republic, it was where their nation had grown from, to take it would shake confidence. But was it the right opening move?

Lady Yvarro…no that wasn’t right, what was her title again? Grand Vizier. Considering the last time she’d sat in a meeting where she was present she had corrected Lord Lechner on its use, it was not a title that she would forget easily. Either way, she offered no sway towards Thyferra or Naboo, but instead pulled their attention back to the map, identifying places where resource control would cripple the Republic. Useful information but not for a first strike, instead it could be a foundation on which the campaign could be built

Councillor Lirka Ka spoke like the zealot she was, poetic in her delivery of a darker idea, not to just take Thyferra, but to ruin it in the way only Sith could. It leaned more towards Nefaron’s way of thinking, though that came of no surprises, The Dzara was hardly a quiet organisation.

A quiet filled the room as her words settled over them. Irina took a small breath and moved forward, her heels clicking quietly as she moved to stand beside her Master, her dark eyes sliding to him first, the silent question of whether she was allowed to speak answered without words.

“My Lords, Grand Vizier.” Irina bowed her head to all of them “If I may, you speak as if we must choose a single blade, when an arsenal lies before us. It is clear that this is no longer about what, but how.” Her gaze moved to Lord Prazutis, fire ringed eyes regarding the blue tinted hologram. “Naboo will burn brightest, when there is no hope left to save it. We do not want to make martyrs, we want to break them.”

Her eyes moved back to the room, taking in each of their faces in turn, masked or otherwise.

“There is no reason why we cannot use all you have suggested, but in the right order. We take Thyferra, because of its value to the Republic, not to us. Councillor Lirka is right, we do not need its resources, we take it because it creates a wound that demands attention.”

“While their attention is on reclaiming Thyferra, we move to enact the Grand Viziers plans, secure trade routes, secure chokepoints and make it harder for their economy to function. A collapsing economy creates political unrest, there,” her gaze moved to Nefaron “you can build on the natural terror that a destabilising civilisation creates turn them not just against the Republic, but lean in favour of our rule.”

“We don’t need to choose between conquest, destabilisation, expansion or decisive battle. All these options support one another. Let Thyferra be the opening salvo and when the Republic has spent all its resources trying to answer every crisis we set in motion, when their trade routes are strangled and their leaders are scrambling to hold together what remains...”

Her eyes settled on the glittering display of Naboo.

“...then we don’t just conquer their capital, we prove that the Republic is already dead.”

Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Lirka Ka Ivalyn Yvarro Gerwald Lechner Darth Prazutis

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"We need not destroy the Republic to achieve our goals," sprang forth a voice from all around those gathered. A droid walked forward, black cape hung about a powerfully reinforced skeletal chassis. It walked forward, heedless of any obstacle, until it stood within the midst of the galactic holo-display at the center of the gathering. Then it rose, limbs elongating as a holographic shrouded coalesced around it.

In frighteningly lifelike detail was Darth Carnifex, Eternal Father and Counselor to the Empire.

"The Republic is frightened, they look beyond their borders and see only chaos and oppression. The Galactic Alliance is little more than a rotting carcass, the Covenant now rules the Core. The Imperial Confederation is gone, the Diarchy is gone. They are alone, and they know it. Their senators fear what will happen when this uneasy quiet finally breaks, they know little of what lies behind the Blackwall. Their imaginations conjure greater terror than what we can offer them."

"The Jedi are restless within the Republic, even now they wring their hands in their temples. They bicker and divide themselves, hewing over what course to take. Their inaction will not last, they will eventually come to take the fight to us. They will even do so without the Republic. We stand at a vital crossroads. We must break the Republic before it remembers its courage. Remind them of the Dark Side's might, but offer them an opportunity to survive. If we give that to them, they will choose self-preservation over the idealism of the Jedi."

"The Jedi will be isolated, those that do not fall in line with the Republic will be ostracized. Cast out. Alone, the Jedi will not threaten us. A weakened, toothless Republic can be a controlled opposition. A perennial foe that is diminished, but never destroyed."

Gerwald Lechner | Darth Prazutis | Lirka Ka
Darth Strosius | Darth Nefaron | Ivalyn Yvarro
Irina Jesart ​

 

[Helix]

Tags: Darth Nefaron / Lirka Ka / Darth Strosius / Gerwald Lechner / Ivalyn Yvarro / Darth Prazutis / Darth Carnifex ​

In truth, Helix had tired of these little performative gatherings long ago. Everyone here knew what would happen, knew that it would proceed regardless of the opinions here stated. One could not steer a beast like this with mere suggestion and counsel. It was a waste of time, time better spent managing the Dzara's growing contraband operations.

Still, if the other two were showing up, he'd occasionally bother to do the same. It was more to reinforce their own positions of power than anything else; he'd long grown bored of the static bloviations of a civilization far past its glory days, and cared about it only insofar as he could pick the decaying meat from its bones.

That's what the Dzara had been founded on, after all. Realism about the state of things going forward, getting their cut before everything inevitably slid into dissolution. Pretensions of still serving the state were tiresome, but occasionally necessary. For how much longer, he couldn't say.

Alone among those present, he didn't bother with airing his opinions. Time had taught him that they would largely be ignored, and that he was better served simply being present. That presence was all that mattered. Like everything else where the Sith were involved, the appearance of things carried infinitely more weight than the reality. One and all, they were fantasists. Perhaps that was why he liked them so much. The galaxy could use more whimsy, and there certainly wasn't any forthcoming from anywhere else. Some had more charming fantasies than others, true, and it was these that he had gathered to himself.

The only materially-useful part of this was to see what the rest were up to, and that was never a bad thing. While his colleagues did the talking, he turned an unpleasantly-analytic stare on everyone else present, turning their words over within the corridors of his alien consciousness.

So far, no real surprises, except for maybe Strosius deigning to interact with the mechanisms of a state he supposedly despised. Maybe the boy was finally learning; the best way to get anything done was to use the beast's own internal movements to your advantage. Nefaron understood that. Lirka understood that. As ever, the scurrying chiropteran was late to the party.

One never wanted to be tardy in these latter days, where every creak and groan of the ship's timbers warned of a further slide beneath the surface of the dark water. A little slow-footedness could easily be fatal, or worse than fatal. The only real question worthy of discussion was this: how much plunder could one get, and still escape before the floor under one's feet vanished entirely?

Helix intended to explore that more fully in the coming days, though it would hardly be politic to say so. Besides, the other two were doing a fine job of playing the room already, and he'd hate to interrupt such winning performances.

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin Eira Dyn Darth Hydra //:
//: Attire //:

CT-312 remained near the perimeter of the chamber, positioned against one of the dark walls beside Eira Dyn . As she was surveying the rest of the room. There was another familiar figure that caught her attention near the rear of the gathering, Darth Hydra . CT-312 found herself curious where both Darth Hydra and Eira would place their support or if they had any other particular way of handling the High Republic. Her visor returned to the center of the gathering.

The Scout had an unobstructed view of the Sith that had gathered and more importantly, of Quinn Varanin . Her eyes behind the visor looked at the direction of each speaker as they took their turns speaking out loud. Observing how the leaders of the Sith Order debated what form their response to the High Republic should take.

Thferra appeared frequently within the discussion and Naboo remained a constant at every suggestion. A general consensus seemed to be forming among those gathered, that the High Republic should first be weakened before the Sith Order committed itself to a direct assault. It was a patient approach, but CT-312 had also seen how quickly and heavy-handedly the Sith made their presence and their intentions known.

Many had thrown their ideas in, CT-312 listened without offering an opinion of her own. Her attention instead returned to the Princess. Quinn had remained silent throughout the proceedings. Instead she too, was observing each proposal without revealing which arguments held her support or her thoughts. The Scout found herself wondering what thoughts rested behind the Princess’s composed expression.

CT-312 thought of Quinn’s recent experiences upon Naboo and her interaction with the High Republic. They hardly demonstrated courtesy one might expect toward a visiting sovereign. She had not entered the High Republic territory as a Sith Princess, but recognized beneath Mandalorian authority as the Warden and Queen of Eshan. Her involvement was to further improve relations with Eshan, as well as what may be brought back to the planet. Neither title had spared her from the suspicion or quiet insult of being regarded solely through the lens of being a Sith.

Whether that treatment would influence Quinn’s judgement now, CT-312 could not determine. She continued to watch, searching for any subtle indication of where the Queen stood.