Diplomacy Unholy Union: The Bridge

[Mercy]

Ord Vaug, Moorja, Retice, The Maw Cluster

Darth Malum of House Marr Lysander von Ascania Darth Nefaron Helix Astra Sadow Helix
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There is an understanding in warfare, once the bridge has been established, it is incredibly difficult to dislodge.

The moment that stream of muscle and blood starts flowing... well, you can try and stop it. But you will most likely be trampled underneath the mass. Four and four are gone. Another four are left before the hungry wave of Sith. They come and descend down on another four sectors, but now they are diving deeper into the heartland of the old Sith Order. The sort of worlds that have known the oppression of the Sith for decades now.

It is a tough thing to think about. What will prevail here? Old loyalty? Will these worlds simply smile and nod, as new conquerors arrive with the old standing next to them? Or do they look at freedom as a new breath of wind that they must hold onto by any means necessary?

But their desires do not matter.

The Sith'ari has spoken.

Go forth and claim what you can. As quickly as you can. Bring to me these worlds and their allegiance, expand our territory until you are sick with avarice and your veins are running black with exhaustion.

Do what must be done. Make your Empress proud. Make me proud. Bring as many of them home and we will reward you.

This, your Sith'ari decrees.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Moorja
TAG: Helix

The Sith's assault on Moorja had been utterly devastating.

Their rule, tyrannical.

But now, a new order was to arise. Far more cruel than ever before.​

The arrival of the two ambassadors of the Sith was expected, but those who stepped free from the maw of the ship were entirely unexpected. Where the landing party thought to meet bureaucrats simply there to negotiate treaties, they were met with two agents of evil who had entirely different ideas. The Corpse Lord said nothing, simply striding onto the landing platform as rain pattered against his black robes.

"M-my Lords! This is… most unexpected…"

Nefaron approached the official, dead eyes scanning every inch of his face before the Sith simply shook his head.

"This world will be ineffective for providing new labor. We will have to import slaves from off-world to see production rise."

"Lord-"

Nefaron wasted little time in removing the official's head from his body, a swift stroke of his saber that put the detachment of security personnel on the back foot. They raised their blasters, directed at the Dark Lord, who simply chuckled and turned back to the transport that he had arrived on.

"Would you be so kind as to show our new guests the grandeur of your new form, my friend?"

In truth, no modification to existing treaties was to be made. This was merely the expansion of a criminal empire that had blossomed from the very darkest corners of Sith space, and now it had come here. The Dzara had come to remove those who would attempt to weed out the corruption they spread and install more favorable rulers. From the black heart of the galaxy, they would strike out at pathetic little worlds like Moorja and see to it that the most vile of their servants were in place to carry out the necessary work that needed to be done to ensure terror reigned supreme in the new galaxy that was to come.

What need was there to rule directly when slaves would do just as well?​

 

[Helix]

Darth Nefaron


Moorja​

Helix's looming, black-clad bulk stomped down the ramp alongside Nefaron's slighter figure. His bile-yellow eyes swept the delegation in front of them.

Despite the lack of violence (for the moment), they stank of fear and unease. He didn't need the Force to sense it, either. He could hear the rapid, anxious pulsing of each heart present. They were on the alert well before Nefaron revealed the true purpose of their visit.

Of course, it didn't save them. Helix had seen the Nefaron's withered-looking physique prove fatally surprising more than once. So it was here. A barely-visible flash of crimson-hued motion, and a disembodied head rolled on the floor, still frozen in an expression of shock.

"Would you be so kind as to show our new guests the grandeur of your new form, my friend?"

Helix didn't need to be asked twice. The looming figure alongside the Corpse Lord seemed to evaporate into fine black dust, which swirled under its own power through the security team.

Tarnicite particulate seeped through ears, eyes, nostrils. Those so afflicted died screaming, and more unpleasantly, they didn't stay dead long. Like marionettes with restored strings, they stood up, turning their efforts on their former comrades.

Helix's essence had spread through them now, puppeteering them in body and soul. If done quickly enough, the wider world need not even be aware of the coup. The mechanically-reanimated corpses of their own ambassadors would play ball in death far better than they had in life.

One guard, a little quicker or perhaps a little more experienced than the rest, dove out of the way of the oncoming rush of living crystal. A blaster bolt rang out, passing harmlessly through the semi-diffuse Helix. The fellow suddenly dropped his weapon, clutched at his throat, and hovered two meters from the ground. Helix reformed, brushed off both shoulders in a deliberately-theatrical gesture, then lazily drew a sidearm from within the folds of his jacket. One final shot heralded a period of silence.

"They'll have heard the weapons fire." Helix mentioned to Nefaron conversationally, as though he were commenting on a holonovella or perhaps discussing the merits of Anoat wine.

"It has been some time since I've adjusted a planetary government. This should prove as instructive as it is fun."

He gestured to the infested guardsmen. "Worth keeping the extra muscle, do you think, or should I just make them jump off the bridge?" For their part, these most recent victims remained unpleasantly aware of their dire circumstances. At the mention of a long jump, they all twitched ineffectually in unison. That was about the limit of the defiance Helix would allow them.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He had been here before.

A detached curiosity flickered in his eyes as a black-gloved hand pressed against the cracking, crumbling marble pillar, a remnant of an old triumph, of a now-ancient empire. The when of it eluded him, as it eluded all of the galaxy. They had an excuse; he, on the other hand, for what he had seen… it felt especially wrong. The plain before him was wide and encompassing; tall grass swayed in the whistling wind. There was little of note on Ord Vaug.

Nothing special that clawed upon his heart in the way of strings plucked with purposeful agony.

Distant jungles bristled with the denizens of their make and environs; he was the alien on this world, the foreigner, and yet…

…Red eyes hid beneath their aegis as he let breath pass easily through his lips.

The ghosts of these nothing worlds were less haunting than those that flickered through his mind, memories of what could not have occurred, and yet no doubt did. They were somehow second to the spectres of his own memory, his past, that did not haunt as much as they stared.

Judged.

The hiss broke through the whistling wind, demanding silence in its presence as the mask sank once more onto his face. As he stood in the sweet meadow, all illusory in the face of the once-king, the once-Dark Councillor, who stood on its alluvial foundations. Clad in black plate and bedecked from neck to toe in armour, the amulet burned hot against the steel as it sensed, with familiarity, the blood bound to the ashes within.

Of a meeting long overdue.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lirka Ka]

THE MAW CLUSTER

A new age

New opportunities.

The board may have changed, but the cruel calculus of monsters would not. They were a slimy gaggle, slithering snakes that moved with the tides of the Sith. Dzara. The Chain. The dread triad that would see hope snuffed from the Galaxy.

As the face of the Sith's hold over the Galaxy shifted, the cancerous blight of their influence moved with it. And none slithered more proudly than Lirka Ka, who in a narcissism rarely-earned dubbed herself the guiding motherly hand of this wretched little family of theirs. But no one became one of the dream-eaters without some…eccentricities.

While much of the Sith moved brazenly across the territory as their blacken grasp was ensured. There was a hushed movement to Lirka Ka and her companions today - for they moved in the shadow of the Maw, masked by the suffocating grasp of the myriad of Black Holes that threatened to obliterate the entire expedition.

Sith forces moved far away from, securing research stations and holdings of the soon-to-be-rebuilt Sith Empire. But this? This was off the books.

The plan hadn't changed. Lirka's ambitions remained the same. And she intended to rig the game in her favor as much as possible - with the helping claws of her dearest co-conspirator Helix of course. After their meeting upon Nagi, Lirka had summoned him once more to accompany her into the winding depths of the Maw. To plot and scheme while Nefaron's dread legion moved elsewhere - a place so devoid of life like this almost felt homely. Certainly more so once their black banner was planted firmly within the void.

Drifting through space, the vessel veered into dangerous waters: the Maw was not a place to be trifled with. But in the name of power, there were those that would dive ever so boldly.

In a rare spot as the helmsman, clawed hands clasped behind her back as her helmet's visor blankly looked forward into the nothingness - Lirka's head shifted some to acknowledge her companion.

"Tell me, Helix, can you feel it?"

There was a reverence in her words, she barely needed to gesture to know that her mind had certainly become infatuated with the anomalies before them.

​

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[Helix]

Lirka Ka

The Maw Cluster
​

For his part, Helix had been silent so far. His mind, more logical than the others in his lucid moments, clicked over the possibilities. Such was his role in the Great Chain. Someone had to consider the material realities of what they were trying to do. Those realities were, at the moment, surprisingly promising.

The Maw Cluster was effectively the perfect raider stronghold. Completely devoid of any real worth or valuable resources, few others had (or would) show interest in it. Incautious approach or entry meant annihilation, as the swarm of black holes could eradicate even the mightiest of intruders.

Not necessarily so for Helix, and by extension, the Dzara. He had made a career out of bending or violating the otherwise-ironclad laws of the universe.

"I certainly feel something." He admitted when asked. He'd probably classify that feeling as 'cautious optimism', if he were better equipped to understand his own warped emotional processes.

It would require work, and a great deal of work at that, but it was far from impossible. Others had colonized the Maw before, and with the shuffling of power, now was a prime time for them to advance their interests.

The old order was fading, as they'd always known it would. Indeed, this very occasion was one of the founding beliefs of their little coalition. Their goals must be twofold: survive the transition, and entangle themselves in the new order.

"It is well that we saw the writing on the wall so early." He observed aloud. "We've been prepared for a long while now, and are well-positioned to profit thereby."

"I can begin transferring materials from our old territories as soon as possible. As it stands, our careful preparations have resulted in a frankly massive surplus."

"If you're referring to the scenery, well." He nodded. "Even better. As close as one can get to the Other side without stepping there directly. It almost seems fated."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Location: Ord Vaug
Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr

Sometimes it was something small, a passing thought or a conversation that reminded him of his cousin. Other times he found himself wondering where the man was, whether he was even alive, and what he might think of the person he was becoming. The Galactic Kaggath seemed so far away now. Their last meeting belonged to another chapter of his life, one he could scarcely revisit without remembering how young he was.. and how sure he'd been of things he no longer believed.

When Alvaria burned, and the situation grew hopeless, Lysander couldn't bring himself to accept that the other Sith might be gone. He even found himself within his cousin's own palace, prepared to die protecting his children.

And now.. there was this strange sensation drawing him onward. He couldn't explain it.. which actually bothered him more than the feeling itself. Something in his blood, mayhaps, recognized what the rest of him no longer dared believe. There was no voice to follow.. no promise of what awaited him.. Something that grew more difficult to dismiss the farther he traveled. Of course, he followed it because, for reasons he couldn't entirely put into words.. turning away felt.. worse.

Lysander’s ship cut through the atmosphere. Below, vast grasslands unfurled toward distant jungles. The vessel touched down a short distance away. Silence gathered over the cockpit; for a moment, Lysander could only shake his head.. crossing so many light-years guided by little more than a feeling..

The walk took only a short while. There.. amid the weathered remains of an ancient structure, Lysander spotted a lone figure. And almost without thinking.. he slowed his pace.

"I've wondered where you've been... so many times I needed help, times when I didn't know what to do or who to turn to, and you were always the first person who came to mind."

The next breath left him slowly. "I even looked for you, you know. I.. don't fault you for whatever happened. Truly, I don't. I know there must be things I'm not privy to.. maybe there are things you've been through that I couldn't possibly fathom. After a while, I just stopped searching for answers.. some part of me hoped you were alive. But I just.. I don't understand."

 

[Astra Sadow]

RETICE​

GO FORTH AND CLAIM...

Yeah, and while they were out here, they could join a regional pirate group and find some booty, see the galaxy.

Astra stood on the bridge of a ship that lurked over Retice, a pad in her hand and her eyes boring a hole through it. No doubt another world given to her to 'make something of it.' As if anyone could make anything of an irradiated ball of sand. This must have been a test by Mercy . The woman had sought to goad Astra when the Uncowed demanded the Covenant respond in force; no doubt an effort to learn something of the Corpo that sought to fulfill her every need. Smart woman. Brutal, but smarter than people gave her credit. Nonetheless, this-- this 'planet' was a test. To see if Astra would balk. To show some sign of lamenting being given such a shite task.

Readings showed the radiation levels had been coming down rapidly in recent centuries. Low enough now to walk on its sandy shores without a radiation suit. Rebreather was still recommended, but that would have been true regardless with silica for shards putting lungs at risk.

With a tap on the controls, Astra indicated the Landing Zone for the expedition. "Have all personnel and equipment geared up for drop in ten minutes." They should have already been prepared, now it was just a matter of last-call for all personnel to stop running around and get on the ships. "And make sure Scrubbers are dispersed on schedule. This world's bad enough without the remaining radiation pockets on the surface," she nearly growled as she strode off the bridge.

Much as she rather stay on the ship, Astra figured she'd take a personal, first-hand look at just how bad things were below. Hopefully Lysander von Ascania would find it about as pleasant as she did down there. Misery loved company.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

The wind ceased its motion as the vessel broke the atmosphere and found purchase on the world's ground; across the sea of tall grass, they stood unnaturally stiff. The air itself was empty, bare of all noise, except for the uncertain, slow advance of a younger cousin, approaching the turned back of a figure standing in the shadow of the pillar, one bent and straining to maintain its foundation.

Silence broke with words.

The dark lord's hair on the back of his neck prickled, the only sign of their registry.

Words were met with silence.

A long silence; the sun bore down upon them in dulcet tones, its warmth temperate in its quality, as the environs abounding them sang in the song of flora and fauna both equally exotic and dangerous, and yet, for all the character of this world, it was these characters that held in this moment the gravity of all sundering importance.

The silence broke as a breath passed his lips.

A black-gloved hand, gauntleted in all the armour of its make, rose without obstacle or hesitation, with the purposefulness of an act committed with utmost certainty. The silence broke again as the hiss of a mask detaching from his face sent waves outward from the epicentre. Long raven locks fluttered, swaying in the aftershocks of the mask's removal.

He placed it carefully within the confines of robes and armour all too familiar to him, yet, for this meeting, it all felt entirely too inappropriate.

His body turned, first his head, then the rest of his form, outwardly; for his young cousin, it would be little different from that day of the Kaggath so long ago. His face held the same familiar qualities: the same aristocratic face, a canvas for an aquiline nose, thin lips, and red eyes that shone ever brilliantly; he seemed the very picture of the man Lysander had seen battle in that Kaggath.

Yet, the differences were there, on display in the subtle weaving of a man crafted by a power beyond them. The same raven locks that were silken and smooth, reaching down to his chin and neck, had begun sprouting on his face. Carefully managed, he seemed freshly shaven; what had once been smooth was now marked by stubble.

It was the eyes, though, that were most different.

Those which had once burned with the rancour of a fire that had threatened to burn down the entire galaxy, the whole rotting apparatus of all which he had found lacking, were now...

...Different.

Colder, guarded, dimmed.

Aged.

The silence lingered once more, family once more united, and gazing at the distance between them. Red eyes stared, in all their difference, at the man who stood opposite him; a recognition of what was so upsetting and yet was fundamentally the truth; it was a man who stood opposite him. Long white locks rivalled his in length, framing a face that might have been a mirror of his younger self, if only in expression rather than in substance; green eyes - brilliant emeralds - held a gaze that made his heart burn.

"I did not choose to leave you, but you were still left." Malum allowed it at last, allowed with a voice all too familiar to his kinsman, yet, for all the similarity, it carried a strain, simmering beneath the surface.

He turned his eyes away, his whole face following suit, his neck tensing slightly to accommodate the movement beneath the armour, as red eyes gazed ahead at the plain beneath their feet, which stretched out all around them. A gauntleted hand fell forth again as he pulled on the Force; its old, familiar rhythm answered his command.

Darkness rose from a squared centre; a blanket formed upon the grass, followed by two unornamental cups, and finally, a steaming black teapot. No chairs, yet the invitation to sit was offered with an open hand.

"I was gone longer than you think." Malum offered again, his sabatons somehow silent as he made his way to the blanket, the armour refusing to clank or clamour, as he sat, the sun's rays glinting off his plate, his thumb circling the ring on his finger.

Red eyes gazed into green.

Tea steam rose over the clearing, filling the air with a pleasant sweetness, all too artificial for what this might be.

"Tell me what I missed, and I will answer any question you have; I promise."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lirka Ka]

THE MAW CLUSTER

This much nothingness was utterly intoxicating. Lirka could feel the sensation crawling into the back of her mind like a ravenous gnashing bug clicking and clawing. Scratching at her skull as the power of Primordial Darkness slithered its way to its paragon just as she had felt when Helix and herself had braved the great oblivion of Otherspace.

Lirka felt power. She felt darkness. She could feel gluttonous hunger rumble within her very and it demanded she feast. Another step to apotheosis was in this place - she knew it.

“There is darkness here. I can sense it. There is power here”

There was a breathy tone to her voice as she could experience exaltation simmering. Lirka’s lucidity was always tainted by manic zealotry.

But that zealotry was sharped by ambition. Plans within plans. Schemes within schemes. All worked towards Lirka’s many goals, for she let one mad narcissistic ambition feed into another.

“Yes…the cycle continues. Empires rise. And they fall. That which was before remolds into what is now: the transient form of strength. My intentions remain the same.”

Lirka did not rarely speak so brazenly. It was almost an openly treasonous declaration but one that would never be uncommon within Sithdom.

“I will sit upon the throne of the Sith. Be it Jutrand, Coruscant, or whatever comes after. That which we have prepared shall be put to use.”

Yes. The resources gathered in silence were vast, a cornucopia of raw material of metal and flesh to be put to work to plant themselves firmly within this new age of the Sith - a new chance to spread the word of Dzara.

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