Faction The Return | Sith Order

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Gloved hands were balm to the iciness of the transparisteel in front of him. Beyond it, stars whirled past him, as if they were blasterbolts that somehow, in their multitude, were unable to penetrate his vessel's shields. A swirling mass of blue, black, and white that pulled them ever forward, toward a destination that filled him with as much gaiety as dread. Yet, it was apprehension, apprehension that most of all filled his form. That sensation that made his knees weak, that made his stomach twist and turn, that made him gaze ever forlornly forward in both a desire to be the first to see his home...

...But too, so he could avoid it for as long as possible.

He had many regrets in his short term of life, regrets that he had imagined would never be topped.

His other hand gripped tightly around leathered gloves, the material taut and rigid upon a hand that felt heavy, upon an arm that threatened to snap and be torn out of the socket. Ophidia... Elsie... Revna... Strosius... Kara... the names of his regrets, of his failures, haunted him ever still. Within the black confines of his mind, it was easy enough to imagine some of their ghostly spectres reaching out to him.

Beckoning him into the shadows from which he would never emerge.

Some of them were not dead, some... as far as he had been told, were doing rather well for themselves; the question lingered on the back of his mind if it had been he that had held them back. Yet, regardless, his actions in failing them... in leaving them to the clutches of the enemy, in killing them even, to bring them back.

In... calling out for them, and they not answering his call.

He knew, after this, one way or the other.

One specific haunting would be done away with.

Red eyes broke their gaze through the viewports, turning away, back towards the crew behind him. He had caught their glances, furtive, curious, nervous; they were quick to look away when his rays fell upon them, but they looked when they thought he would not notice. He could hardly fault them that, could they? Mystery filled the air, questions unanswered, for questions that had gone unasked. They knew it was him, it was unquestionably him, and yet... the him they had known had disappeared years ago.

...Years.

His tongue tasted the word; the rancour of emotion that it once had brought out of him had dulled in the days since his return. Yet, still, it was as if he could feel the blade jagged in his heart. The absence, as it was pulled out, and his lifeblood, ichorous and angry, spilt across the floor. He had lost years.

And a galaxy had moved forward, none the wiser.

In some way, it was a blessing that it had only been years. Considering what he had seen, considering what he had experienced, considering what he had lived, if it had been at all proportional to the time here... he might have returned to a galaxy from which nothing he had known still existed. Where the Tsis'Kaar had been lost to the annals of time entirely, rather than simply written off in the history books as defeated. Where Alvaria might have been forgotten by the galaxy entirely, slipping back to obscurity. When House Marr itself... well, they had survived thousands of years, would they survive thousands more? Would they ever reach the heights from which he had brought them for just a moment?

A few years, for all that he had seen peering beyond the veil, might have been worth it.

And yet, all he could taste was the ashen promise of what he had left behind.

His gaze flicked back to the viewport as a resounding boom echoed along space from which sound was not meant to make purchase, the sound which announced the arrival of the Dar Itah to its destination, from one end of the galaxy to the other. Charting a careful course from the Tingel Arm, through the Slice and Wild Space, to finally emerge out into the Western Reaches, avoiding Sith space entirely. It had been by design; his warlords had come when he had sent the call, the dull booms and the flare of the hud signifying the arrival of other ships to the system was proof enough of that.

Yet, for others, informants, spies, infiltrators, assassins, and all the rest. They might have answered the call in trickles, passing messages via encrypted channels that only the Tsis'Kaar knew of... and yet...

...Until he had seen them swear fealty, he could never be too sure, and so, across the galaxy, those that could were all summoned to Alvaria. Summoned for the chance to show their loyalty to the Lord, to whom they each owed fealty. His return could not be kept secret for long; already, he knew that Quinn must have known. He had considered cutting the binds that attached him to her, hesitating long enough to maintain them.

He had taken too many actions that had left a far too... permanent edge.

He had to trust her to be discreet. Was that not a wonder all unto itself?

He had idly hoped too, that... the other whose bond he held, would be here.

Yet, for a reason he could not truly place, but perhaps simply the same hesitation that kept him chained to Quinn, she had not cut it either. Even as through it, he could feel across the breadth of the galaxy that she was fast attempting to escape him. A futile effort, she must have known. If he knew where she was at all times, what was the point? And even beyond that...

...Did she truly imagine that he would not move heaven and hell for their children?

The pang in his heart was a reminder of another failure...

...Aureus and Caelia...

...He would be reunited with them soon, he promised the void of space between them, a distance beyond human comprehension, but a distance he would cross a thousand different times if it meant returning to them...

He closed his eyes as his breath grew heavy, his chest constricting against the armour plate shielding his front. His lip quivered as an energy passed over him, a reminder of a matter that even after his arrival, he had done his utmost to ignore, and yet... it was time to pay the piper. Red eyes awakened to gaze upon the world in front of him.

And his heart broke.

For all that S- the Empress had warned him, for all that the Empress had veritably shown him. He was not prepared for this.

It was the lack of ships, the lack of a station, that he first noticed. Hulks, empty and cold, floated under the backdrop of the world below, remnants of the fleet that he had left here to defend his world. Bits and pieces, chunks of hulls, turbolasers, engines, and all in between them, made for a circle of debris that, even still, seemed to make for a rotation around Alvaria's orbit.

They were a distraction.

Smoke and mirrors, to what he did not yet wish to face.

He breathed in, a desperate bid for an overworking heart, begging it to be calm, or else bring about the end of him and everything else. His gaze tilted ever carefully, past the ghosts which had been the first line of defence, past those that he had abandoned, and yet still fought on in defence of their master's home... he promised, he would provide them the dues in death that he had failed to in life.

And even still, he distracted himself from the sight that he did not wish to confront.

It was a shuddering breath out of his lips, as the first crystaline spires registered in his gaze. Even from orbit, they were unmistakable, blood red with a sheen of black, as wrought as the moons he had borne from Lothal. Even from this distance, he... felt them. The rogue shiver pulsed down his back, a call that was unable to be ignored, voices playing at the edges of his mind, the Empress trapped in that moment...

...It made it impossible to deny she had not been wrothful at the attack against him.

...Not that he truly had imagined she was lying.

His hand upon the viewport brought itself closer to the darkened world, looking to cup it within its grip... all that he had built, all he had transformed, all that he had done...

...What did it matter if it could all be wiped away in his absence?

He turned away, flicking his gaze to the ground, as his lips were dry. The bridge was quiet, eerily quiet; they awaited him, or they gazed ahead to the world they had once known. Paying their respects, for all they had known.

A return that had never been promised, and yet now, here they were.

He slipped his hand into the confines of his cloak, fingers finding purchase upon the mask that he knew all too well. He brought it to his face with little fanfare, and a short hiss resounded across the room as it confirmed itself upon his front. He turned towards them then, all of them standing ever slightly taller, formal, unquestioning. He said little as armoured steps took him out of the bridge, the blast doors opening at his presence, as he marched through his vessel to the hangar.

The pinpricks by his eyes had to be ignored, lest all of him crumble with them.

​

He gazed in silence at the palace above. It stood upon a hill that was more mountain, straddling a cliffside's edge, as the sea itself seemed to wish to challenge its heights and pull it down upon craggly steps. The waves had never succeeded, and yet, as they swelled in energy, before crashing again and again upon the sandbanks, they were relentless in their resolve to achieve the impossible. He had spent many an evening gazing upon those waves...

Now he gazed upon a palace that once so welcoming now was... pierced via the crystal spires that the Empress had left behind. It was good she was here, he could vaguely muse, for even crystaline there was something... alive, about them. Indeed, it was as if they were living growths that had attached themselves to the once cream-white walls. He had no intention to touch them, for even without physical contact, the sense of emotion within the voice contained compelled him to stay away, even if reasonably, he knew they bid him no harm. Him, at least... others, he could not be too certain. It would make for an intriguing backdrop, all things considered. The weightiness upon his chest had not lessened any, in fact, upon the ground now... despite all the familiarity, it beheld a weight that threatened to crush his ribs.

The irony of where they stood was not lost upon him either.

It had been from which he had confronted the Emperor and Empress once long ago.

It had been from where his break with his Mistress had become official, and he was provided the certainty to undertake his task upon Fiviune.

And now, in this place, this clearing, from which he stood upon a small hill, in the distance the crystaline infused palace, and below him, the gathering of the last of their Order, with more arriving every moment...

...From here, they would restore all that had been lost.

A hiss resounded from the sheath as pommel and hilt were heavy in hand, the Sith Steel black and weighty upon both form and soul, sung stout, as a hundred different eyes gazed upon its point.

As the sun melted away beyond the horizon, leaving its last orange hues to splutter and burn in askance, as twin moons emerged from opposite burgeoning.

He ignited his blade as the plasma burned alive.

And in the sky.

The crescent of the Sith Order appeared, circled by the ever-chasing Ouroboros.

Their Lord called, the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar.

It was now only a question of who would answer.

Srina Talon Trayze Tesar Leliana Adean Castor Seren Gwyn Zorath Kom Ceaasan Darth Callidus Darth Strosius Darth Tormenta

 

[Darth Callidus]

Location: Alvaria | Tsis’Kaar Landing
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr

The ramp descended with a hydraulic groan that spoke to the freighter's age, and Callidus stood at its threshold for a moment, framed between the warmth of the cabin and the wind that carried salt and ash in equal measure.

Alvaria stretched before her, dark and wounded. Seas hammered against cliff faces in the distance, relentless in their assault upon a world that had already endured worse. Above, the orbital graveyard turned in slow procession; hulls split open to vacuum, their innards trailing behind them like the viscera of slaughtered beasts left to rot in the void. She had studied them on approach, noted the pattern of weapons scarring, calculated the approximate tonnage of what had been lost. A fleet. A station. Years of consolidation, swallowed by the absence of the man who had built it.

And rising from the surface itself, the spires. Crimson and black, crystalline, alive in a way that had nothing to do with biology and everything to do with the Force. She felt them before she had seen them clearly during descent, a resonance that pressed against her awareness with an intimacy that reminded her, uncomfortably, of the Sepulcher.

The voices stirred at the thought. A low murmur, the ambient tide she had long since learned to navigate, rising just enough to press against the edges of coherent thought. Her jaw tightened, a micro-expression, controlled before it could fully form.

“Not now.”

The surge receded. It always did, when she commanded it. Mostly.

She stepped onto the ground and began to walk.

The Quiet Dividend sat behind her at the periphery of the gathering zone, well removed from the other vessels. A light freighter taken from a smuggler who no longer required it, bearing no Sith markings, no military transponder, nothing to distinguish it from a thousand other battered ships limping through the spacelanes of the Western Reaches. It was a role, and like every role, she had inhabited it completely. She had been no one for a long time now. A ghost threading through Outer Rim ruins and forgotten temples, cataloguing what predated the Republic, drawn by whispers she could not always distinguish from her own thoughts.

It had been quiet work. Patient work.

The kind she had always been suited to.

The encrypted burst had found her in that silence, arriving through Tsis'Kaar channels she had believed severed. Or, at least allowed to atrophy into irrelevance. She had studied the authentication twice, then a third time. Not because she doubted its origin. She had known whose hand had sent it before the decryption was complete.

Malum.

She had sat with the name for hours, golden eyes reflecting the pale light of her console, fingers unmoving upon the controls. The strategist had weighed every angle: what it meant that he had returned, what it meant that he was calling them back, what the cost of answering would be against the cost of silence. The voices had murmured their contradictions, half-formed warnings tangled with encouragements until none could be distinguished from any other. She had closed her eyes. Let them wash through. Opened them, and her decision was already made.

It had been made, she suspected, the moment the signal arrived. Everything between had been theatre she performed for an audience of one.

Now her boots pressed into Alvarian soil, and she walked the path toward the gathering with the deliberate, unhurried pace she brought to everything. Not hesitation. Never hesitation. Every arrival was a performance, and every performance required tempo.

She thought of death.

Not morbidly. Not with dread. She thought of death the way an astronomer thinks of the space between stars; as the medium through which everything meaningful travels. She had tasted it through the Force more times than she could count, fed upon it, felt the dark narcotic rush of extinguished life flood through her like fire. She understood it intimately. And she understood what so many failed to grasp.

Death was not an ending. It had never been an ending. It was a hinge, a threshold between one state and the next, a door that swung open onto corridors the living could not map and the dead could not describe. She had watched civilizations burn, her own first among them, and what rose from the ashes was never what had stood before. It was something shaped by the destruction, informed by it, born of it, but never a repetition. The galaxy did not resurrect. It transformed.

Malum had vanished. The Tsis'Kaar had fractured. Alvaria had been ravaged. And yet here, on this wounded world, something was beginning. Not the same thing that had existed before, that was gone. What emerged from this gathering would carry the shape of what was lost the way a scar carries the shape of the wound, but it would be its own creature entirely.

This was why she had come, she realized. Not loyalty. Not obligation. She had come because she recognized the moment for what it was. A death that was not an ending. A beginning that could not be predicted.

Callidus had always positioned herself precisely at the hinge.

Callidus, who bowed to no one, who had killed every master who had ever presumed authority over her, who had burned the very concept of submission out of herself as thoroughly as the Sith had burned her childhood from the galaxy —

— inclined her head.

A fraction. A degree. The kind of gesture that meant nothing if you did not understand what it cost.

"My lord." Her voice was cool, measured, a blade sheathed in silk. The golden eyes held his mask without flinching, without deference, but with something that might, in a different woman, have been called respect.

A pause. The faintest trace of something moved behind her expression; not warmth, never warmth, but an acknowledgment that she found this moment, against all expectation, satisfying.

"It is good to see that death has not yet claimed you, Darth Malum. Though I suspect it has tried."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Alvaria announced itself to Seren through the Force before the planet had fully resolved beyond the viewport.

She felt the wrongness first.

Not corruption precisely. That word was too simple for what pressed against her awareness as the vessel descended through the atmosphere. The sensation possessed texture, history, and something disturbingly close to life. Seren remained near the viewport throughout the descent, glowing amber eyes fixed upon the crimson and black crystalline spires rising from the wounded landscape below. They pierced structures and earth alike, unnatural growths that seemed less constructed than manifested. Even at a distance, she could feel something within them. She had spent enough time among ruins, artifacts, shadows, and the remnants of Sith workings to know better than to mistake unfamiliarity for harmlessness.

"Interesting."

The word left her softly, carrying considerably more caution than enthusiasm.

She had come because of the summons. That alone was peculiar enough. Seren Gwyn no longer called herself Sith. Darth Eryndis remained a name she had earned and a history she did not deny, but she had ceased allowing either an Order or a doctrine to determine what she was permitted to become. Once, a summons carried expectations of obedience, hierarchy, and allegiance. Now it represented something else entirely. A question. Someone named Darth Malum had returned after years of absence and called the remnants of the Tsis'Kaar to a world bearing the scars of everything that had happened without him. Seren had decided that was a question worth answering.

Her ship settled some distance from the growing collection of vessels, and Seren emerged shortly thereafter. She had dressed for neither ceremony nor battle, choosing black fitted trousers tucked into knee-high boots and a sleeveless tunic of deep forest green beneath a fitted black leather coat that fell to mid-thigh. Voidstar rested openly at her hip, its blackened hilt and etched runes requiring no explanation to anyone familiar with a lightsaber. Her dark blue-black hair had been left loose, shifting around her shoulders as the wind came off the sea and carried the mingled scents of salt, stone, and ash across the landing grounds.

The devastation became harder to ignore once her boots touched Alvarian soil. Above her hung the carcasses of ships that had once defended this world, while farther ahead the palace itself stood wounded by the same crystalline formations she had observed during descent. Malum's return had brought him home to the remains of a fleet and a palace pierced by those strange growths. Whatever had happened here had possessed both power and purpose. Seren's attention lingered upon one of the distant spires for several seconds before she continued walking.

By the time she reached the gathering, another woman had already approached the masked figure upon the rise.

Seren slowed rather than interrupting.

She knew neither of them personally. The woman was unfamiliar, composed and deliberate in a manner Seren recognized without needing to know its origins. There was something significant in the fractional inclination of her head, though Seren lacked the history necessary to understand precisely why. The masked man required considerably less deduction. Between his position before those answering the summons and the blade burning against the coming night, there was little question that she had found Darth Malum. The symbol of the Sith Order hung above them, the crescent encircled by the Ouroboros, marking his call to whatever remained of the Tsis'Kaar.

She heard the woman's greeting as she drew close enough to join them.

It is good to see that death has not yet claimed you, Darth Malum. Though I suspect it has tried.

One corner of Seren's mouth lifted faintly.

"Death does seem remarkably poor at keeping Sith when it claims them."

Her arrival carried none of the ceremony of the woman before her. Seren stopped a comfortable distance away, allowing her gaze to pass briefly between the two strangers before settling upon Malum. There was no bow. No my lord. She had abandoned such habits along with the hierarchy that once demanded them, but neither was there deliberate disrespect in her posture. She had answered his summons, after all. That alone meant something.

"Seren Gwyn." After the smallest pause, she added, "Once Darth Eryndis."

The old title felt strange spoken here. Not painful, nor shameful. Merely something that belonged to an earlier version of herself.

Her amber gaze shifted briefly toward Callidus, offering the unknown woman a small inclination of her head in greeting before returning to the masked Sith who had drawn them both to this wounded world.

"Your message reached considerably farther than I imagine you expected." Seren's attention wandered toward the gathering below them and then to the crystalline spires dominating the horizon. Curiosity warmed her expression rather than allegiance. "I confess I was curious enough to see what sort of man returns from the dead and immediately begins calling an Order back together."

Her eyes settled upon his mask once more.

"So I came to listen."

Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Callidus

 

[Kom Ceaasan]

The freighter touched down a few miles from the palace, but she disembarked well before it came to a complete stop. Opting to walk the remainder of the distance, she knew that flying directly into what was rumored to be a dead Sith territory could easily result in being shot down by the guards protecting the remains. The atmosphere on this planet was far from pleasant, leaving a taste of salt and copper lingering in her mouth.

She attempted to rid herself of the unpleasant taste as her eyes drifted upward, taking in the sight of the sky littered with wrecked starships. However, she was aware that appearances could be misleading, so she remained cautious, avoiding any potential stray fire that might unexpectedly descend upon her.

After several minutes, she finally reached the palace, observing how it appeared as if a massive shard of glass had been used as a makeshift battering ram, leading straight to the entrance. The HoloNet had been buzzing for years about the death of Darth Malum of House Marr . Some anchor in a pristine suit likely earned a bonus for delivering that news.

Yet, there he stood atop the hill, igniting a crimson saber while a couple of women Seren Gwyn and Darth Callidus in front of him delivered speeches on destiny and rebirth. She didn't quicken her pace, indifferent to whatever grand scheme he was trying to accomplish now. A gathering of Sith discussing power typically meant a room full of individuals just waiting for a reason to betray one another.

However, if a man presumed dead was suddenly rallying people from across the galaxy, it meant there was either profit or peril involved which suited her more. She lingered a few steps behind the others, her thumb resting on her belt near her lightsaber hilt just in case anyone got a funny idea. She simply observed the masked figure as he played the role of host in the Alvarian breeze.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Callidus / Seren Gwyn / Kom Ceaasan
--------------------------------------------

Darth Strosius recalled snapping awake from His meditative trance, throwing off the lid of His sarcophagus and wrenching Himself from the needles and tubes within, when He sensed it. Many would have assumed it to be a false positive as it were. An echo or flicker of His imagination running a bit too wild when He was in such a sensitive state. What was there left to sense of a dead man after all? Yet He knew better. He knew death intimately and while He wasn't necessarily unique in that regard it was still an experience that had left Him with but one conclusion.

That Malum of House Marr was gone, disappeared. Vanished somewhere that couldn't be found. But dead? No, nothing was ever that simple. Certainly not when it regarded him of all people. And even if His own knowledge was faulty then He did have it on the good authority of a woman that He considered an expert in the subject that Malum had been nowhere to be found within the realms of the dead. If he had been then Darth Strosius wouldn't have had any qualms about dragging him out, if only to repay the favor.

Therefore the familiar presence that had triggered His early awakening from His meditation didn't come as a shock necessarily, though it had definitely been a bit of a surprise nevertheless. In truth the masked Sith Lord had assumed that wherever it was that Malum had went was intentional, wishing not to be found at all for whatever the reason. To some extent it was a mindset that He could respect. One that He had considered more than once long ago but had dismissed each time. One which now was impossible for one such as Him.

His officers were caught far more off-guard and confused in comparison, only really bringing the summons to His attention due to the nature of its transmission to them. Across old channels and relays that had faded into disuse since the Tsis'Kaar had been unceremoniously dissolved in the absence of its leader. There were still holdouts of course, remnants that hadn't fallen in with either Dzara or His own forces, and those undoubtedly were the intended recipients of the call to Alvaria.

Yet Darth Strosius didn't care if He was meant to be invited or not, the moment that He had sensed Malum He knew exactly where the younger Sith would be heading already. Were it not for the bridge crew meeting Him with the strange reports of the summons then He'd have already instructed them to set course for the world regardless. As ever even in their doubt and curiosity, they obeyed dutifully and the arrangements to leave their current position were made.

The Harbinger of Absolution emerged above Alvaria and it quickly became apparent that they were far from the first arrivals, undoubtedly a result of having to disentangle themselves from their operations alongside the rest of the Wonosan fleets. For His part Darth Strosius was pleasantly surprised to see others gathering. It would have been easy to assume that the summons had been some trick, a deception leading to a trap of any sort, to any who weren't as attuned to the Lord of House Marr's presence after all.

Yet in spite of the risk and what must have seemed like an impossibility, they had gathered all the same. How curious. The shuttle ride to the planet's surface was silent and uneventful, He had chosen to undertake it alone even with the urgings of His officers and personal guard. Some matters were best resolved and attended in a lone manner after all and this occasion certainly fit that criteria. Most matters regarding the Sith tended to fit that criteria really.

His shuttle touched down on the outskirts of what had once been the flourishing palace grounds, with Darth Strosius stepping out of it almost as soon as the ramp had lowered. Yet He didn't rush to meet Malum, instead His steps forward were actually fairly slow and measured. There was already those gathering to question the Lord of House Marr for any number of things yet He hadn't come to ask anything. He'd come to answer, and thus He'd make His way on His own time and allow the questions to come to Him instead.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Strosius Darth Callidus Seren Gwyn Kom Ceaasan

Lina was not attuned to Malum’s presence, their bond had been fleeting and wrought with mistrust and uncertainty, but she was resourceful, with spies built from shadows scattered throughout the Order. She had walked Alvaria after the attack, supporting Revna Marr through her grief at the loss of a home, leaving something behind to watch for those who might come and go after.

The whisper reached her long after she knew he had returned. Sapphire eyes had watched from her desk as Strosius had torn himself free of his sarcophagus in a less than humane manner, earning a click of her tongue in disapproval of the way he treated himself. She had stayed out of the way, as ever, engrossed in her own work as preparations were made to move them to Alvaria.

She made her own preparations, reinforcing the runes on her stole so she might stay with them for longer than normal before the need to create a nether portal might upset a situation as well as recalling her shadows from Alvaria. The last thing she needed was an argument over their presence if he was to discover them.

He had never been dead, that much Lina was certain of. There were few of import that died and did not cross paths with her wandering the nether, which begged the question; where had he gone? And why? There were no doubt a dozen people who wanted to know the answers, but none more than his family, or the families of those that had burned in his absence.

A chime sounded and she lifted her head from her work, the notification the Strosius had landed reaching her as she sealed the last rune, settling the stole over her shoulders and reaching for Wraithspire the staff snapped once against the durasteel, ringing loudly as runes lit up its shaft, the dark portal rising from shadows for her to step through.

Lina materialised just behind Strosius, stepping forward with an echo of whispers, her hand neatly finding the crook of his elbow as she fell wordlessly in step beside him, staff tapping lightly with each step, the only outward sign of her affliction was in the tightness of her grip on Strosius arm.

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Of course Death would not claim Darth Malum so easily. The wonders of the galaxy never cease, both in their glory and their horror. For her part, Khamesi had been quiet for hte past several years. Returned to the shadows and the patient piling of money. Something many still doubted she could actually do given the way she acted in battle. Her flagship, the Omen of Ash emerged from hyperspace and found it's spot in orbit over the world. Trust was a currency she had little supply of, but the crew on this ship had been with her since basically the start. The faces and voices on this ship were among those she could trust to keep a secret, whether that secret was a failed attack, or rejoining to whatever this call would turn into.

Her shuttle touched down, and she ordered the handful that had followed her onto the shuttle to remain upon it. Mismatched equipment and armor was practiaclly the uniform of her Ash Dragons, but anyone that took a second look would see it was all well maintained, and the people that carried it were experienced soldiers. Not that it would matter here, a handful of soldiers would make no difference against a collection of Sith Knights and Lords, besides maybe give her an extra second or two. Mostly they were here for apperance sake. Her fleet had shrunk, her network thinned. She had been idle for to long. Personal matters had taken her attention, and into the shadows she had slunk, but the key pieces remained in place.

Malum and the others were an unknown, and she didn't like unknowns. She was not subtle in her approach. It was hard to make a frame like hers subtle, and the armor she wore made it nearly impossible. Sure Sith Magic could probably do it, but she was more about strategic stealth, in person she was far from subtle. She kept her thoughts in check as her eyes played over the gathered figures. This meeting would be very different from what she had spent the last year(s) doing. That much was certain.

She took a spot by the gathering, perhaps a bit more distant, but that was in part because her presence around Malum was always a little bit of a wildcard. They had been allies as often as enemies, and she had brought her flagship with her. She would not doubt if he was on guard with her. To be frank, she had brought her flagship precisely for that reason. Insurance. She doubted he'd make a move like ambushing her in such a way, but she didn't live this long by allowing doubt to rule her. Besides, it also meant that if someone else came to crash the party, they would have firepower to drive them off or at least leave the world.

Out there in the back her station still hung, silent in the void. In the low chance this meeting turned to battle and flight, they would have somewhere they could retreat. Especially since it was finally nearly ready to enter full operation. Constructing under the veil of secrecy made even simple projects take far longer, but soon...no, she was letting her mind wander. She brought it back to the here and now.

"Darth Malum."

___________________________________________
Tags - Darth Malum of House Marr Lina Ovmar Darth Callidus Darth Strosius Kom Ceaasan Seren Gwyn

 

[Avarice]

Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Callidus Seren Gwyn Kom Ceaasan Darth Strosius Lina Ovmar Darth Tormenta
OOC: Avarice's presence in this thread is with Darth Malum of House Marr 's permission.​

A small, darkened shadow seemed to materialize within one of the ruined palace's deeper alcoves, gathering itself out of the blackened gloom until the slight figure of Avarice could be distinguished from it.

He had come trailing after one particular figure.

The young apprentice had been keeping careful watch upon one member of this curious gathering for some time now, following the subtle turns of their movements and interests from a comfortable distance. It seemed Avarice had simply invited himself along in their wake.

And now, here they were, answering the call of another Sith.

How… curious.

Avarice lingered along the periphery of the gathering, content for the moment to remain little more than a quiet presence among shadows far greater than his own. He had no intention of announcing himself, nor of disturbing whatever reunion was unfolding before him.

For now, he merely watched.

 

[Firrerreo]

The Tsis'kar had been a rumor amongst the other Sith the Firrerreo spent his time around. A myth, a legend. A horror story equivalent to the boogy man to Sith who would trespass beyond their means. There were plenty of rumors echoing amongst the acolytes of the academy the boy had found himself in, idling away between his studies. Learning, but ever waiting for something interesting for him to look into.

Or perhaps he was just lazy. It was an easy line for him to drift around between laziness and disinterest.

It was rumors amongst his fellow students that had caught his attention. Not the usual occasional whispers of a secret police force, but of a gathering. A return. Many had dismissed it as only that; rumors.

Firrerreo had gone to see for himself. He picked up immediately that there was truth to this. A crowd had formed, a crowd he stepped into with his hood up. Blend in, go unnoticed, just in case there was someone who could recognize him amongst the gathering. It was silent, almost awkwardly so. They were waiting for something.

Someone.

A single figure atop a hill, lifting a blade of blackened steel. Firrerreo's eyes widened as a saber ignited along it's edge. Ever the craftsman he couldn't help but gawk at the mechanisms and material that would allow as much. Was it just Sith Steel? His curiosity burned, but his gaze followed the tip up towards the emblem.

Ah. This wasn't just a rumor after all.

Nervousness, excitement. Both in equal measure filled his smile as he lowered his gaze towards the Sith on the ledge. Perhaps there would be something interesting to happen here, something to keep his attention.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren remained where she had settled near the edge of the gathering, content to allow others to announce themselves as loudly or quietly as they pleased. She had already given Malum her name and the old title that accompanied it. There was little reason to add anything more until the man who had summoned them chose to explain precisely why he had called so many Sith back to this wounded world. She had come to listen, and despite the growing number of arrivals, that intention had not changed.

What did change was the collection of faces around her.

Some approached Malum with obvious familiarity. Others maintained their distance, watching with much the same caution Seren herself felt. Ships continued to descend beyond the palace grounds, each new arrival adding another presence to the Force until the gathering became a complicated tapestry of darkness, curiosity, suspicion, old loyalties, and histories she could only guess at. Seren quietly moved a little farther from the center rather than closer, finding a position from which she could comfortably observe without becoming part of the spectacle. Shadows had always suited her better than stages.

Then one particular arrival caught her attention.

Darth Strosius.

Recognition flickered immediately across Seren's features. Unlike Malum, Callidus, and nearly everyone else gathering around them, Strosius was no stranger. She remembered him from the desperate effort to recover Varin, when circumstances had made allies of people who might otherwise have had very little reason to trust one another. Whatever complicated history had brought him here now was his own, and Seren certainly wasn't going to interrupt his approach merely to announce that they had met before.

Still, seeing a familiar mask among so many strangers brought the faintest smile to her lips.

"Well. At least there's one person here I know."

The words were quiet, meant more for herself than anyone around her. She watched as another woman emerged from a portal behind Strosius and slipped her hand through his arm with an ease suggesting familiarity between them. Seren did not recognize her, nor the imposing armored woman who arrived afterward and addressed Malum directly. There were others too, some conspicuous in their silence and another hooded figure apparently determined to disappear into the crowd. Seren understood that instinct rather well.

Her gaze eventually returned to Strosius. If his attention happened to cross hers, Seren offered him a small inclination of her head in acknowledgment, accompanied by the subtle warmth of recognition. There would be time to speak later, assuming whatever Malum intended did not immediately send the entire gathering spiraling into chaos.

For now, Seren folded her arms loosely and returned her attention to the masked figure who had called them here. She had no fealty to declare, no grand pronouncement to offer, and no desire to compete with people carrying years of history she knew nothing about. The former Darth Eryndis was perfectly comfortable standing near the shadows and watching.

There was usually far more to learn from what people did when they believed someone else held the room.

Kom Ceaasan Darth Callidus Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Strosius Lina Ovmar Darth Tormenta Avarice Firrerreo

 

[Vivi Irius]

Current Location: Alvaria | Tsis'Kaar Landing
Current Equipment: Ignis Impulsa | Ember Armor | Nav'it Orb
Current Squad: N/A
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Callidus | Darth Strosius | Darth Tormenta | Lina Ovmar | Avarice | Firrerreo | Kom Ceaasan | Seren Gwyn |

A tide of furious weighted currents crashed into the unexplained depths of the void like a torrent of hate. It took hold for a moment before it vanished. Its touch reminded anything that felt it, just how precious the swelling inconceivable concepts of raw power could manifest possibility. For too long the force had favored itself, unnervingly casting its own judgemental affinities into the universe like a perverse child. It toiled with itself, its very core mechanisms to keep balance torn asunder by the very truth that hung in the deep dark.

The Force... was wrong.

Wrong in so many ways. Wrong for its selfish existence to determine the flow of such untapped potential. Wrong for skewing the natural tides. Wrong for birthing more sensitives than it could correct. In the end, despite its frivolous carelessness; it remained capable of truth.

Another crashing wave of pure indescribable cold, the twisting transformation of a blanketed snow softly melting into obscurity. The creeping frost seizing those trapped in its very trance. Another whisper, growing with indignation. The chilling anger swept over the hurdles of time and space to reach far out into the vast distances of pitch black silence. The sudden quiet ushered a new sensation, pinpricks of delectable tightness breaching the view of those affected with a connection.

Smeared wash-burn brush strokes hung over them all like spilled ink on a canvas. A new transfigured reality warping the very actuality of those sharing the influenced manifestation of something sick...no, something that was once dead. It mixed and mangled together forming a vicious knot of putrid, toxic strands of thread. A thin needle slowly weaving ever so perfectly to break through any barriers one would have...

only to reach.

The experience stopped, abruptly. The hollow whispers of the grasping tendrils of the dark receding back from which they came. A forgotten warmth lethargically crawled back to inevitability, finally making contact.

​

The surge within the deep confines of the cosmos came like a ripple, bouncing vibrations coiling and turning back into the ironclad eight foot being like rapid firing lasers. At first, he thought it was the beginning of another dying star, a fractured tormented fate for a living world to breed another like himself. Instead, however, the calling pulse of energy unintentionally reached Vivi. The metallic grains of its message washing over him, magnetic waves clutching onto the very source. It festered with ambition, desperation, promise, anger, hate, but most of all...power.

A sudden dread sank into him, the flaring of his internal light almost fading as it began to rip apart his own perception. The current was now a wave. Crashing into Vivi, beckoning ever more to the very place in which the entangled disaster began to unfold before him. Static visions of a past that haunted it, a ball of thick regret filtering in before being purified with a frigid cold. Vivi's wispy amorphous body began to shift and wretch side to side with discomfort when it took him. Claws of the darkness wrapping around him as he gained closer and closer to the source.

He was lost for a moment in pure darkness, a loneliness Vivi knew all too well. It was their connection, however brief, linked together with desire to correct.

To fix.

A second passed, then another...a third, nothing. The fleeting grasp of corruption dissipated, as if the very subtle demand left him in a hollow river with no way out. Vivi almost yearned for it to happen again, but again, nothing.

It frustrated the Fytar, until he began his descent.

A smoldering intense heat ripped into him as the entrance of a new atmosphere fought against his dive as many other worlds had tried. Novatar, however, were relentless cosmic beings. This was the natural way of things for their own kind, searching amongst the stars for a place to belong. Vivi was no Galatar, that much was true, but he had burned through layers upon layers of thick barriers to break free from the typical associations of his own kind. He too was ambitious, much like the eerie signal that found him...

wanted him.

Vivi could feel it in his pulsars, the rotating refusal of microscopic dust particles filled with meteoric alloys. He could smell the ionic compounds, then the taste of metallic vapors all in one go. The first invisible wall of the unknown planet had been breached. He continued, a blazing light ripping through the magnetic poles of the planet, burning bright like a healthy star. Shards of his outer, exo-skeletal Novatrite armor spliced off on the edges, scorch marks brightening as a layer of gasses formed a plume of inescapable pressure before releasing into a sonic boom.

The thundering clash of the second layer the planet manifested for him, completely broke. With it a parsed separation bent to his will as the clouds parted and revealed the desolate landscape below.

Vivi was no stranger to the antics of war and his flame-like eyes squinted through the shifting slits of metal to take it in. A decimated world staring back at him.

The hissing winds of the air cooled him, his descent slowing as his black armor began to shift and lock back in place to protect him. The static sizzle and overload of pinging resources below began to flood into him. He could feel, taste, hear, smell, and see the real planet for what it was. It was very much alive underneath the recklessness of others. The imprinted craters below showed the fashion in which this mysterious place had endured, yet, it still took breath. Beneath such destruction he could feel the irons trying to rip away and attach to him. The tiny specks of gold hidden away among the loose dry soil. The pulsars of his own tinged with delight, but the command of the heart gave a firm refusal to take. This place had already been taken from...a balance that fate had deemed necessary with time.

Vivi was a slowly moving giant in the sky as his black shimmering metallic features reflected back to the ever-slight light piercing through the clouds. The slits of his metallic armor for his fiery eyes widened, as they began to witness crystalline monuments staggeringly, taking a hold of what once looked to be a magnificent home. A palace of the forgotten. His wispy blue flaring eyes shifted, the immaculate dredge of energy finally revealing itself in the far off distance. The clamoring bleed of crimson plasma delicately pulsating like a vibrant beacon of...life.

Vivi's eyes fell upon the figure now, their connection twisting inward and outward all at the same time. This feeling wasn't true, it was a lie. Vivi could sense the cyclonic disturbance in abundance now, this wasn't natural. The closer he inched the more the unnatural currents from before became contorted with abnormal festering. The dark side of the force was omnipresent, but the figure itself exuded omnipotence. A mixture of caution and curiosity struck the Fytar, the wound in the force here was darker than he thought. Only, part of him felt something else entirely. A desire to mend, to heal the wound of imbalance. To rid the galaxy of the impurities.

Ironically, this wasn't a call for anything other than a notice.

A statement.

A return, that shouldn't have been.

Then it came, stronger now, more malevolent than before.

The Novatar froze and...

​

 

[Leliana]

Location: Alvaria, Tsis'Kaar Landing
Tags: Darth Callidus | Seren Gwyn | Kom Ceaasan | Darth Strosius | Lina Ovmar | Darth Tormenta | Avarice | Firrerreo | Vivi Irius

​

It had been a long time since Leliana had heard a single peep of activity from the old Tsis’Kaar channels. Many years had passed since the assassin had been part of the organisation, to a point Leliana admittedly struggled to put a date to that time. But she had never fully disconnected, always kept an ear towards the old channels in case anything happened.

She had heard whispers here and there of attempts to revive the organization previously. But whomever had been behind them hadn’t utilized the encrypted channels…until now.

And the source of it was him.

Darth Malum of House Marr

One of the two that had been responsible for killing Darth Ophidia.

I wonder if the other one will be present too…

Leliana had once been an apprentice to the Pale Assassin, once being the operative word. Ophidia had been the one that had helped break the chains that had initially tied Leliana down. From that day forth she became her apprentice.

But then events transpired that gradually shifted her focus away. She had been branded by a product of the Dark Forge, burning the sigil into her hand that became the igniting spark that sent Leliana plunging into the world of alchemy.

Even further into the realm of shadows. Where the young assassin had detached herself from the galaxy, from anyone and anything that had tied her to it, until the day she eventually stepped back out of the shadows.

And today was another one of those days.

Some distance away from where the gathering was happening, the shadows began to shift and stir. A rift tore open, a slither initially until a pair of talon claws began to pry it open further and further. The arms were made of shadow, down to the muscle and tendons. Once the rift was open enough, a humanoid figure was hauled up from the depths, the shadowy arms seemingly connected to the individual's back.

Leliana was adorned in her usual attire, recognisable to those that knew of her. But where there was meant to be a normal face, a human face, was an obscuring visage.

A mask made of shadow, wrapping around the assassin’s face, with only a pair of emotionless, beady white eyes peering out from the dark.

She took a moment to glance around, to see if she could identify any of the presences that had arrived, searching for any that were familiar. Then she moved, the shadowy arms dissipating into nothing as Leliana made her towards the gathering.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

More had arrived than he had expected. No doubt even more would arrive before the night was done.

A masked gaze fell over all of them - watching - ever carefully. Many familiar faces, but what was more intriguing, so many... foreign ones. Some stood prominent - staring stalwartly forward; others concealed themselves in the bustle of the crowd - to do little but hear and watch. Of them all, the discipline held; conversations broke out between brothers and sisters that had not seen each other in months - mayhaps years. Quieter conversations were held between the broods that had arrived together; however, there was a certain degree of quietude that overlapped all. That in itself was a reassuring sign; they would listen.

But perhaps more importantly, they had not lost themselves in the base instincts that were only so natural.

His gaze flicked to the first of many petitioners, a ghost of a smile flickering upon his lips as recognition sparked in his mind.

She inclined her head to him; he knew very well that it was all that he would receive from her.

Yet, that was all he needed from her.

"Darth Callidus." He noted, tasting the name upon his lips as if an old favourite dish he had not partaken in for far too long. He allowed the snort to pass his lips at her words.

If only she knew.

"She attempts to claim us all, yet here we stand. All of us have much to be proud of." The words carried with the wind. As if a prophet speaking holy words, those closest to him murmured, echoing across the line as the transmission carried on.

His gaze turned towards the new arrival. Where one was familiar, it seemed prudent for the galaxy to provide a stranger.

Balance, in all things as it were.

He listened to her carefully. The air was remarkably still; there should have been a biting wind, the sumptuousness of their gathering giving way to the cold of night, as the sun rapidly fell below the horizon. The Darkness itself had veritably gathered itself here, acting within the bodies of its varied and differing hosts.

The Darkness veritably burned.

It provided the only flame needed to waft away the chill.

Beneath the mask, his eyes glimmered in the implication.

His mouth might have salivated in the anticipation, if not for...

"...Well met, Darth Eryndis, or Lady Gwyn, should you so prefer." Malum offered with little emotion in his voice; his mind was registering the arrival of more, each gaining a consideration for the threat they may have posed... and then granted the all clear. More and more were arriving without the necessity of ships, but through the utilisation of the sorcerous.

The rare circumstance in which a ship itself, in all the threat of its gunnery, in the hum of its engines, and the bulk of its hull, could be considered the lesser.

"...I shall hope I do not disappoint your ears." He concluded with the tilt of his head in notice. She was the most visible presence that more than his Tsis'Kaar had answered the call, those without a sense of institutional loyalty, those curious, those intrigued, those... who had been tailor-made to seek the voice in the Darkness that had so called them to attendance.

It had been an invitation most enticing, but in the end, that was all it had been.

It would be his own great work to bind them to vision, cause, and purpose.

The next arrival had him narrowing his eyes.

He had expected him; he had wanted him here. Yet, of all the beings in the galaxy loved by gods and men, perhaps hated too in equal measure, there was none as... unpredictable as his elder brother.

If he held the will, if he held the desire, he might have allowed himself a chuckle with none of the bemusement. After all, even in the easy admission of all such, there was also the strict irony that A- Dar- Alisteri's unpredictability could in the same moment be called the exact opposite phenomenon.

Predictability.

His co-apprentice had the means and ability to do a hundred different actions. The predictability lay in the fact that Malum might have accounted for each and every single one. It may have sounded impressive; however, there was no prodigious sense involved; it was simply because the first ninety of them would be so similar to each other. The unpredictability lay in the consideration of exactly which of those hundred he would choose.

It had been an amusing game.

One that had led to one of them dying in front of the entire Empire. Dying... was a nicer way to put it, rather than murdered, he supposed. Alisteri had taken it remarkably well back then; perhaps the fact that Malum had played no small part in his revival had granted him that much. However, years had passed, years...

His teeth were brought together at the reminder of that all-important truth.

He had no guarantee of anything when it came to Alisteri... no guarantee when it came to any of them.

The fact that, as his gaze crested over heads, he would find the masked Sith Lord arm in hand, with... he both raised an eyebrow and frowned at that. Surprising did not feel appropriate to describe the magnitude, and shock did not seem appropriate to describe the lack of energy. Bizarre, he might have settled upon, if not...

...If not, for the reminder of the fact his own arm was empty.

Kara remained still at large.

And growing distant, and distant still with every second that passed. Her final chance to return had elapsed with no reply.

He burnished the thought away; she... would be dealt with in her own time; this, this had to have his focus.

As another familiar face showed herself. One which had always been... difficult. Odd, considering that he could - at the worst of times - handle all the excesses of the once Lord Inquisitor, that it would be the Lady of the Ash Dragons that gave him the most pause. It could be that although he had killed his co-apprentice, he had a much warmer relationship with him than her...

...And yet, she had answered his summons still.

They all had.

The smirk could not be denied.

"Darth Tormenta." He inclined in his own greeting.

As the light loomed high in the air.

He held no great prophetic ability; however, somehow, he had known this was to occur. It was like a comet trailing along the sky, a comet all too visible, backdropped by the darkening sky, as all the illumination offered was the last rays of a fading sun, and the borrowed light of twin moons only now reaching their high places. They had all said it - they had all known it; his message had reached far, not just amongst old Tsis'Kaar channels, not just across the pulse of skin that beheld permanent ornament of their fealty.

But across the Force itself.

The Lost and the Damned.

Bastards and Broken Men.

The Abandoned and the Forgotten.

All had heard its call...

...But what if even more?

What if something ancient?

What if a beacon to light the way?

It grew larger every moment that passed; it was not just a simple comet that passed through the high heavens. It held a direct trajectory, and like a sailor at a siren call, it could not resist. Hanging high over the world, hanging like a stage light. It served as backdrop and as witness to all that he would achieve.

If only now. He did not fail. He allowed a breath to pass his nostrils; that was far easier said than done. He gazed over the faces; there was a veritable kaleidoscope of emotions that ran heavy across them all. There was no perfect set of words, no perfect inflection, no perfect answer given that would answer all their questions, and yet...

...He thought back to Dorvalla.

He thought back to... times even before that.

He supposed then, there was only one way to start.

He extinguished the blade, a hiss resounding across the air. If it was possible that the eyes of the clearing were not upon him, the plasma withdrawing itself back to his black sword certainly made it impossible. That was not the only hiss.

He brought his hand to his mask. There was another hiss, different, and still, impossible to ignore. The resistance loosened, the grip firmed, and with renewed breath.

There was no obstacle to his red eyes gazing across to all of them. His face was not unknown, but...

...He supposed this one was.

The black hair trailed down his scalp, passed the neck, and reached down to his shoulders. They framed a face that was young, and yet, still... older and different, worn, somehow... tired. The old aristocratic features were still there and evident: the aquiline nose that stood prominent, the thin lips that so easily could smile in a victorious smile, and red eyes. Red eyes that burned with the ferocity of ten thousand suns, and shimmered in the hue of rubies buried in the deepest of mountain holds.

And...

...Facial hair.

It had been trimmed since Lothal, yet, the once clean-shaven face was now compromised with hair on both poles of that lip.

Different, but familiar.

"...You expect me to speak long, and speak loftily," He spoke in a voice that was more whisper than shout, and somehow still, it extended out to touch all their drums, "...I do not fault you for that; it is my first instinct, perhaps it is what I should do..." His voice rose in tempo; his voice... also differed. Once smooth and light, it took a rougher edge, a darker sheen; his gaze shuttered for the vaguest moment, a blink hiding solemn contemplation, a breath passing his lips.

And with it, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

The gaze opened.

And the ghost of a smile fixed itself upon his face.

"...And yet, I have made my speeches, I made my sacrifices to rhetoric, my libations to reason, my penance to rationality," He strove forward. As he did, one hand gestured openly to his surroundings: the craters bore by turbolaser batteries, the absence of life that which nature very desperately attempted to fill. The other gripped the hilt of his blade and pointed to the palace; ever still, did the crystalline growths hang heavy in the air.

The smell of copper and the dead all over nostril, while whispers and voices strummed along drums.

"No..." He closed his eyes again, as seeming convulsions broke out across his chest. Convulsions that quickly became apparent to be resistant laughter that seemed to shake his ribs, and pain across the entirety of his body. His eyes blazed alive as the energy picked up all around him. The wind, once absent, blew heavy waves across them, its cool caress as gentle as it was frigid. "No... No... we played that game once, and look what it cost us." He hissed it, a veritable hiss as if his tongue had grown forked, and his blood ran cold rather than hot, as if for one, singular moment.

He was in fact more snake than man.

He stepped forward once more, his footfall heavy, as if he could feel the quakes emerge forth, with his steps as the epicentres.

He looked to them, his gaze dangerous and heavy, sweeping over each of them, challenging them to countermand him, "It shall not be through great speeches and consent that the great questions of the day shall be answered." It was back to the relative quietude, and yet, it was as if the voice was ringing in their ears, "That was the great mistake of previous years, of previous days, to think power is promised, that power could be plucked as easily as fruit."

He let out a shuddering breath.

"...There is only one singular path forward," He paused, as if the words themselves agonised him, or else filled him with ecstasy, "Through iron and blood."

He took the plunge, off the hill; his place of high prominence abandoned, he stood equal to them. He sheathed his blade into the confines of his scabbard as he walked amongst them, appearing defenceless; as yet still, the light from above followed him. "This Empire is yours; this whole galaxy is yours." His arms extended out to group them all under his aegis, even as he paused his walk. They made a radius around him, none wishing to capture themselves within his sphere.

"Does it feel like it?" He asked the question honestly, genuinely, looking at all of them in askance.

"Do you feel it?" The shift was unmistakable, a new tact, a new path chosen. "There is a change in the air, my brothers and sisters, a shift across the entire galaxy; that is why you have attended, that is why you are here, tell me it is not so!" His feet were the pivot from which he gazed all about himself, even in position declined from his heights, marking all those whom he had noticed, all those whose opinions would determine the success of this moment.

And every moment after.

"I promised you the galaxy once, I promised you the Empire, I promised not only the fruit, but the entire orchard. I failed you." The admission came as easily as one breathed, even if the admittance had him wish to claw the protrusion by his throat, swallowed and bobbing, "War is coming, we all feel that in our bones." He stopped his motion, seeming to stare ahead to something inconspicuous, "Millions will die... billions... trillions... perishing in sickness, misery, and renewed slaughter." He broke his long gaze, shifting on the dime, to once more pivot and gaze at all around him.

"...Seize it, seize it, join me now, not in a coup for power within our Empire to fight over the scraps of the Rim. Join me now, for the promise made upon Korriban millennia ago, of an Empire that stretches from one corner of the galaxy to the next. Of a victory that breaks our chains."

There was a power reckoning through his bones, the Force wielded in a manner unconscious to him, as by the will of something greater than his own, he began to lift; his eyes glimmered in the energy in the air, as his foot floated above the grassy plain, above the craggling rocks, and above the stand of soldiers and lords whose gaze followed his trajectory.

His hands found themselves in the confines of his armour; the mask removed was now in hand. The hiss resounded across the air, as the replica of Darth Marr's face pressed into the awaiting grasp of Darth Malum's.

"We Tsis'Kaar hold in sacred trust the legacy and fortunes of the Sith people." He mused in a voice that carried across the clearing, "The galaxy is their inheritance; will you not aid me in making it so?" He looked to them all, one last time.

"Will you not aid me in bringing justice for us? In bringing security for our people? In bringing about the victory that grants us our freedom?" He remembered the inky depths of quotidian waters; he remembered all that had occured there.

How alone he had been.

Never again.

"...Will you answer my call?"

Srina Talon Trayze Tesar Leliana Seren Gwyn Zorath Kom Ceaasan Darth Callidus Darth Strosius Darth Tormenta Lina Ovmar Avarice Firrerreo Vivi Irius

 

[Srina Talon]

LOCATION: Alvaria
TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr - Trayze Tesar - Leliana - Seren Gwyn - Zorath - Kom Ceaasan - Darth Callidus - Darth Strosius - Darth Tormenta - Lina Ovmar - Avarice Firrerreo - Vivi Irius

The Empress of the Blackwall had not responded to being summoned. Not, entirely.

She was not a creature that could be pulled across the void at the behest of a whim—

But appeared precisely where she intended to be. She had known that her little prince was alive long before most of those gathered had reason to suspect it. She had seen him, spoken to him. Held him upright when the weight of a thousand lifetimes left his soul a walking scar.

There were things about his absence that remained unanswered, and the pale woman disliked unanswered things. Still…She had done what any mother would do. Provided home, hearth, and relief to a wayward youngling that could just as easily have plunged a dagger into her spine. Twisted, before she could stop him. It was the nature of who they were, what they were, and yet, she was compelled to love her children. Accept their hatred…Treasure it.

The Echani arrived without any sort of ceremony and emerged from the shadow of the ruined palace with measured steps. No guards followed, which was often the case, despite the Sepulchral finding her refusal reckless. She was of the belief that she did not require protection and that the truth was actually the opposite. She could handle herself, her enemies, and her demons. The Sith Order required her—Not the other way around.

Black skirts that seemed to hold all the fathomless of night whispered over broken stone while long white hair shifted in the salt-laden wind. She was barely there, ethereal, with features that remained impassive. Her skin was milk-pale with eyes that gleamed a distant metallic-gold. They were full of so many hidden secrets that the galaxy…Just wasn't big enough.

The crystalline structures that seemed to have swallowed this land would be the first to notice her presence. A subtle vibration passed through the nearest formation, and the very air trembled with the scent of jasmine and petrichor. It was always like this, now. The vibration traveled through the crimson-black spires that seemed to be both encasing structures while simultaneously holding them up. They were hers, after all.

Born of anger and sorrow…Wrath so complete that it bordered on the divine.

There were many faces at this meeting that she had either never seen before or hadn't witnessed in many moons. Darth Malum of House Marr was busy addressing those who had come at his behest, with the evening sky coming alight with his declaration. It was interesting to see that so many of his little birds had survived. Even more interesting was that his goals had shifted from trying to cut off the head of the Order for his own gains to something new.

What had changed?

The time he spent away? Or—Was it because her husband was no longer the Dead God? That she was no longer the "Empress-Consort" but the Empress of the Sith in both name and station? Was it because he finally saw with her eyes?

Did he finally understand all that she was working to build?

Srina could hope that one of her children had found it within themselves to evolve on their own, but hope was, for the most part, a fool's errand. She would wait to find out if this new Malum was one that she could depend on, one that would uphold what was necessary for the Sith Order to succeed versus falling prey to ambition. It wasn't his fault.

It was burned into their bones, the need, the desire to grasp for power.

To hold tight and never let go.

That was where she differed from her brethren. The Echani had never really reached for power and often found that it was simply there when she needed it. Like a well that could never be exhausted, never emptied, no matter how much she drew. It was only ever a matter of how much punishment her body could take, how much she could channel, before it gave out.

Rather than interrupt the gathering, she stayed back, wearing the moonlight of twin celestial bodies as if it belonged to her. Her eyes closed, and her attention drifted beyond Malum, toward the palace. It had been such a vibrant place. Cream colored walls and finery beyond what most would ever know in a lifetime. She had used the blood-crystal to seal it off and make it a tomb that none could enter, a memorial for the people lost, for the boy she had failed.

They were exactly as she remembered them. Great formations that had broken through the walls and terraces, frozen, where her usually immaculate temperament had left them. They had endured long after the battle ended, long after her grief was buried. They preserved some part of herself that she no longer had any desire to leave exposed.

A pale hand rose.

The changes began with the palace doors, the gates, and crystal hard as durasteel slowly withdrew. Jagged spires shortened as though drawn backward by an invisible hand, sinking from the courtyards and walls, rather than shattering. Srina did not destroy them. She guided them into every fracture the battle had created, forcing the shining material into broken seams and ruined foundations until crimson-black crystal filled the damage. Made it whole.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she watched the transformation while thin veins of dark red spread through pale stone. Cracks disappeared beneath crystalline seams and broken arches joined back together. Destroyed walls settled together beneath something stronger than mortar. The Echani had seen artisans repair shattered ceramics in much the same fashion, refusing to disguise where something had been broken. Metals were poured into the fractures until the damage became part of the object. Often, it was more beautiful.

In this instance, she went for strength. It would be stronger than before.

When the Empress finally lowered her hand, the monstrous spires were gone. The palace remained scarred from foundation to parapet, but whole, threaded with veins of crimson and onyx. It was not restored. Nothing could ever undo what had been done. Not even she could restore all the lives that had been lost. Her gaze shifted away from the palace while the surrounding city and forest changed the same way.

Instead…Her eyes landed on Malum.

She could not erase the past…But she could give him this one thing. Many of his people had been evacuated by the Commonwealth. They could return.

She could give his home back.

 

[Kom Ceaasan]

The crowd grew by the second as more ships settled into orbit above the palace. Kom stayed where she was, unwilling to be pushed aside by latecomers looking for a better view. Her hand rested on the center grip of her double-bladed lightsaber, fingers closing around it just enough for the weapon to be noticed. It was not a threat. It was a reminder that she was not someone to be pushed around by a gathering of grandstanding Sith.

Her yellow eyes moved across the gathering before settling on Darth Malum of House Marr . At last, he reached up and unlatched his mask. The metal came away with a hiss, revealing a tired face beneath it, lined with age and framed by loose black hair and an untrimmed beard. He was not much to look at, though considering what years of Sith corruption did to most of their kind, he could have looked far worse.

Kom said nothing as he began his speech. He spoke of iron and blood, of taking the galaxy rather than fighting over scraps in the Outer Rim. His voice grew louder as the Force gathered around him, strong enough to lift his boots an inch from the ground. Kom had heard speeches like this before.

The words changed, but the result was usually the same in that someone else ended up doing the dying. She waited to see who among the crowd would be foolish enough to accept his vision without asking what came next. Whoever stepped forward without questioning him would tell her more than any speech could. They would also be the first person she would watch when things inevitably went wrong.

 

[Darth Callidus]

Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr @all

​

She had been watching the others arrive one by one, cataloging each arrival. Some she knew from the records of the Tsis'Kaar, a few from chance encounters and meetings. Few she knew on a title or even name basis. They were Sith, or perhaps they were not. It was so hard to tell sometimes, and the definition of that word changed day by day depending on what the voices decided. They were such fickle things. Or...was she the fickle one? Insanity truly had its conundrums.

As she listened to Malum speak, she let herself drift into the roiling sea of her mind. Colors, shapes, voices, they all mingled together within her as she listened to the former leader of the Tsis'Kaar speak. With each word spoken he tried to solidify in their minds the goals of the grand vision. His honeyed words spoke of a bright future. A future where they would unite the Sith, unite the galaxy, and take back their rightful place.

He even said they were going to get justice. A strange concept for assassins and murderers, to be certain, but the speech was good. Perhaps a little too good...

Callidus's eyes drifted as she sensed a new presence, and her amber eyes glittered with renewed interest as the newest arrival made her approach. An Empress. Perhaps The Empress. It was such a grand title for beings that were so often fleeting in this galaxy, but as Srina Talon approached, Callidus gauged that the title suited her in this moment.

Her actions with the palace and crystals made that belief visibly and physically proven right.

The laugh tore itself from Callidus before she even realized it was there. The voices cried out in glee, rage, and jealousy as the Empress, with a wave of her hand, repaired the damage to the palace above them. She clapped her hands, a momentary giddiness seizing her as she watched the display of power and control. Oh the power she held.

Her blood must be truly exquisite...

"My dear Malum," Callidus said, stepping forward. Th e corner of her mouth twitched, her left hand tightened into a claw as she worked to shackle the voices back under control. She locked the voices away as she approached the Sith Lord, her eyes taking in his features now that the troublesome mask had been put away. Was he handsome? Horrendously ugly? It seemed he was both at the same moment to Callidus.

"You speak of justice and freedom with the same breath that promises bloodshed and devastation. Your ambition and grandeur have not slackened since your departure, I am happy to see. You shall have my aid, my lord. It shall be a wonderful journey of discovery and domination we shall uncover together."

 

[Zorath]

ZORATH

Zorath’s freighter had settled on the far edge of the gathering grounds. It was left well clear of the larger vessels and the growing crowd.

He kept to the periphery as he approached. Zorath did nothing to draw any attention to his arrival. Speeches and dramatics had never been part of his methods.

Zorath found a place among the outer watchers, far enough that the central exchange remained clear and close enough that nothing of importance would escape him.

Malum had returned. The Tsis’Kaar were stirring. He was no footsoldier in a war. Zorath wouldn't be drawn into a crusade. For now he simply watched.

 

[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi, no, Darth Tormenta sighed as the speech began. She listened to Malum's little speech with a weird mix of respect and contempt. Big speechs weren't really something she cared about, not at the best of times, let alone in a bombed out ruin surrouned by strangers and distant acquaintances. She kept her arms folded, waiting for Malum to end his little presentation. Once he was done, she let a few of the others say their piece before she spoke.

"Justice? Freedom? Security? Ha! Illusions. Justice is always lost to corruption. Freedom? People chain themselves time and again when they become content and safe. And security? As long there is power to be fought for, that security will be shattered by the next aiming for the throne."


She stopped, tapping her claws against the cybernetic arm she would never be rid of. A reminder of a great battle, and an eternal promise.

"But, fighting for the impossible is not toiling in vain. Breaking the system forces it to change, and some will find their Justice in the chaos. Freedom only remains in the hands of those that refuse to bow their heads in silence ever again."

She thought to her crews, how until her fleet had grown to large, each and every one of them had been slaves who she had given the chance, and the power to break their chains. How now, they bow to no one, but follow her of their own free will. Not a single one of her soldiers was forced to remain by her side. Even now, they chose to remain their out of loyalty, and respect, not fear or complacency.

"And Security? Only the weak crave it, but the strong fear it's loss. You will never find eternal security, but ensuring the Sith will always have a place in the Galaxy is a different story."

Khamesi paused on final time to gather her thoughts, keeping her tongue on some of the more...heretical beliefs she held, despite the temptation to speak them. Instead her eyes were fixed just beyond Malum, on the splintering, fractal paths the future could hold unraveling before her. A choice now would drastically alter her future, but there was to much possibility to know if it was for good or ill, simply that the choice would be an important one, so a choice she would make.

"So yes, I will fight for you, and by doing so, remind the Galaxy why complacency is poison."

 

[Darth Strosius]

Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr / Darth Callidus / Seren Gwyn / Kom Ceaasan / Darth Tormenta / Avarice / Firrerreo / Vivi Irius / Leliana / Srina Talon / Zorath
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His gaze roamed over the vessels that had carried the various interested parties to Alvaria this day, both those that had landed on the ground and the ones that hung high above in orbit. Mystery and uncertainty kept the atmosphere tense of course. Naturally the circumstances at hand were worthy enough of suspicion and hesitancy however when combined with the many disparate and likely largely unknown parties there was simply little room left for comfort among peers or any similar such sentiments.

A complex weave of feelings really then, how fitting it was for the Lord of House Marr's return. Darth Strosius paused a step as whispers reached not just His hearing but brushed against the back of His mind as well, stopping just long enough for Lina to seamlessly slip her arm in His before they both continued forwards together. He glanced over her for a moment, watching her from the corner of His dark visor as He silently noted her...condition. Kept at bay by the stole for now of course but perhaps not as fully effective as it should have been. A concerning prospect.

"You should have stayed on the Harbinger beloved, exhausting yourself for this little affair is hardly necessary." The masked man whispered to Lina, not bothering to hide the concern in His voice. Though He had a feeling that whatever dismissal she would offer would have Him begrudgingly agreeing anyway, thus He decided on a slightly different remark to follow His statement. One spoken once they had neared the main gathering. "I can behave just fine on my own, I promise."

Whether that was a promise that He could, or even more likely would, keep however was of course a subject of debate.

Surprisingly there were some that He recognized there as well as Malum himself, though Seren was the only one that offered Him a nod in greeting which He returned in kind. For a moment His and Malum's hidden gazes seemed to meet, improbable yet He could tell from across the way all the same, and all He offered the other Sith was a deep nod. In time they could catch up properly but for now there was a presentation to be put on and the Lord of House Marr was nothing if not a showman.

Thankfully He and Lina had arrived just in time it seemed and Malum even started off his address by removing his mask of all things. A chuckle nearly escaped Him before being smothered at the sight of the facial hair donning the noble's face, well at least one thing had changed He supposed. Darth Strosius idly wondered how much of his speech was bravado and how much of it was genuine but either way it did seem to interest the other attendees at least, even if He couldn't agree with the message that was presented.

Reviving the Tsis'Kaar was certainly a goal He supposed, not one that He'd have recommended however. How much Malum was aware of what had transpired in his absence wasn't clear at the moment however He sincerely hoped that he knew it would take more than one gathering a few choice words to regain what had been lost. That had always been one of Malum's greatest weaknesses, at least in His mind, his belief that the right message in the right ear could shift the tides of the galaxy.

Words were little more than pleasantries without action to enforce them, Darth Strosius knew that all too well. With any luck the Lord of House Marr would have learned that to some extent, though right now He couldn't be sure. What He could be sure of though was how His form tensed and His whole being bristled when a late arrival stepped into the gathering. His hidden gaze snapped to Lady Srina and narrowed, a scoff escaping under His breath. "The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime, don't they?"

She stood there as though nothing was amiss at all, as though Malum's return actually interested her. As though she'd done anything against the Kainate when they saw fit to ravage Alvaria and tear apart the Tsis'Kaar. "I don't know what's going to disappoint me more." He admitted to Lina with a sigh. "The lies and excuses that she will spin for Malum, or the likely possibility that he'll believe them." Undoubtedly he at least genuinely believed that she'd allow the Tsis'Kaar to return again in any form after allowing it to be crumbled to ash.

That was Malum's other major flaw in the past, he believed what his "betters" told him just like any other noble did. Darth Strosius could only hope that he would know better this time. That standing in the ruins of all that he'd inherited and designed was enough to shake him from that ridiculous notion. Yet there was a sinking feeling in the pit of His stomach that implied otherwise. He hoped that it was wrong.

 

[Vivi Irius]

​

Current Location: Alvaria | Tsis'Kaar Landing
Current Equipment: Ignis Impulsa | Ember Armor | Nav'it Orb
Current Squad: N/A
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Callidus | Darth Strosius | Darth Tormenta | Lina Ovmar | Avarice | Firrerreo | Kom Ceaasan | Seren Gwyn | Zorath | Srina Talon | Leliana

​

Nothing...

There was nothing in the harsh putrid black that took him. Swallowed him. Claimed him.

The dark echoed with droplets of whispers, each one pouring into his chamber of empty. A chamber sanctified by the very allure of a leeching grasp. Before it felt like a blanket of pure cold, but now; like fire it burned through his veins. It reminded him of the beginning of everything. The collapsed stars had crumbled under the purest of pressure and friction to generate his very own being. The reminder left him and in the moment of fractured reality, Vivi could finally hear the whispers clearly.

Balance...Returns...

The words began to spread through him, molding the very core tenant of his Novatarian teachings to the front of his mind. His body twinged, curling inside the shell of metal slowly falling towards the ground. A small hesitation ripped through him and the Fytar stopped, in one full motion the obsidian titan hung overhead. Almost hovering above the desired temptation below, a gathering of parasites all fueled by the lackluster ideals of ancient obsolete teachings. All of them exuded tiny pinpricks of foul manipulations in the force. Vivi had tasted the darkside before, but the gathering made him almost cautious. He had killed their kind before, killed their enemies even more so. Regardless, Vivi was here in the present and the gripping tug of the figure a few hundred feet beneath him was the sole reason.

But why?

There had never been an inherent connection to anything other than other Novatar in the history of their existence, so, why this...this, frail human. While other Novatar did not consider themselves as superior, Vivi was too proud...too violent to accept the status quo. Yet, he had heard the ushering call of such a weak creature. Weak in every way compared to his own counterparts. Only, the force swayed him, threw him in the deepest ends of the currents that the human was able to manifest. In comparison to the other robed figures that came to heed the same call, he found their influence...

Insignificant.

His motionless frame gracefully began to move. The clicking grind of metals shifting abound let out a light whine, tiny orange sparks spitting outward before the friction halted and latched into place. The Novatrite armor casing in the amorphous body of Vivi's true identity behind a massive layer of fortitude. More malignant thrumming reached out like a thread of delicate silk and before he knew it the black metallic crunch and massive weight of his mass made landfall. A tiny splinter forming under his eight foot midnight frame. The ground swelled with agony and his pulsars in his heart began to vibrate.

A symphony of intangible waves funneled into him. His heart wanted them and although Vivi gave the order, he still yearned for the alloys shearing themselves loose far underground. His azure flame dimmed as the slits of his eyes bent inward. The sudden dissipation of the crystalline monuments that toyed with his electromagnetic detection, began to disrupt partial pulsars in the confounded area. The hushing of the natural metals all around him seemed to have silenced a bit more and his eyes lifted to see the one who caused it... Srina Talon

If he hadn't been so distracted with the man in front of him, he would have been able to detect something far more sickly. The woman's aura superseded the others now, her grand entrance abolishing the massive jutted crystalline bars that imprisoned the palace before them all. Vivi assessed this signature. It wept in tears of grief and wrapped itself in regret. As quickly as he caught on to such an emotion, a sudden form of relief seemed to have made itself slightly available for all to linger in.

For the others, their signatures began to scream in refusal, the gesture stirring up old wounds. It was clear to him now, it wasn't just his kind that dealt with emphatic infighting. This was a form of normality among all species. An ever evolving landscape of truth and lies.

Vivi was careful not to make any assumptions, wars were started over less. Instead, his eyes were ripped from the blonde Echani as the words spilled out into the tense silence.

"My lord." The voice was stern, but cold.

Vivi slightly shifted within his fortress of Novatrite. Something was off with this Darth Callidus . A mixture of torment and confusion slowly sank in. A madness he hadn't felt in a long time poked at his very own mind by just being within a few feet of the Sith Lord. Vivi took note and the shifting slots of steel morphed along the front half of his face as the pitch black obsidian split slightly ajar, another flow of blue flame billowing into the heavy air. He took a deep breath and a small form of crackling static came after.

Before he could speak, he was cut off by the "lord" himself. At first, Vivi was unsure of the maskless man, a slight beard and markings of the dead didn't usually write out a prosperous future. However, the longer he stood in silence listening, the more it became apparent. This was meant for everyone to hear, not just his past;

Mistakes.

"...There is only one singular path forward," Vivi's eyes flared, the anticipation hanging on what came next. "Through iron and blood."

Malum continued with his speech, but these particular words spoke to Vivi.

Iron and...

Vivi contemplated the second word. It sounded wrong, non-relatable. It slightly irked him, but none more so than the exploitation of false promises. Then, it happened, the very thing Vivi was curious about. Why Malum had called them all here.

"Will you not aid me in bringing justice for us? In bringing security for our people? In bringing about the victory that grants us our freedom?"

Vivi's slight discomfort formed in the fashion of a head tilt. The screeching twist of his helmet almost falling to his left shoulder. The sheer movement alone betrayed natural physics and gravitational influence, but with ease his head obeyed.

"...Will you answer my call?"

The Novatar considered it all, those around him, the Sith, the influence that they all came with. The changes he was trying to make for his own kind. The search for something greater in the grand scheme of everything the galaxy had to offer. Instead of being trapped by the useless guidelines given or passed down to him by some random Galatar. He didn't care for that life, fixed to a destined truth, fixed to a lie. Malum spoke of freedom, was this the route to his very own? Would the other Ember Knights follow him in the stead of someone else's cause? Or maybe...just maybe, none of that mattered.

What mattered was making it possible. Promises or not, Malum would have to deliver. Vivi's whole demeanor changed as his head fixed itself upright and he took a step forward, close enough to extend a hand outward. He looked among the others as his dark jagged arm extended outward. His blue voids of fire stared through each of them as the gathering took place.

Before he spoke he told himself one thing.

For the freedom of my people and to bring true balance to the galaxy...

A sudden loud screech erupted from the bottom half of the helmet before the vibrations twitched and the tone immediately changed to scripture they would all understand.

"Iron and Fire!" Vivi corrected Malum, it wouldn't be blood, it would be a sea of crimson fire. A purification swathed in the heat of a Fytars true purpose. To cleanse. To fix. To correct. His eyes flared brighter now. "We will burn the sickness, scorch the misery and," Vivi paused, he peered out past Malum to take note of them all. "Justice through ashes." His voice was deep and held a certain dread to it.

Vivi's thick metallic arm stayed still, perfectly so, awaiting the truce to be sealed with an age old concept.