Private &nbsp; Welcome to Korriban

Revna

Darth Caedes · Feb 21, 2025

Outer Rim Territories
Korriban System
c. 905 ABY

"The seeker comes as two—one hides in the dark, the other in plain sight. Look not to the one who speaks, but to the one who watches."
—Jen'rusalka, spoken prophecy

P R O L O G U E
The air in Vardin's palatial meditation chamber was thick and oppressive. Steam coiled from a shallow basin where fire-heated stones hissed within dark water, suffocating the room in a heavy fog. High above, narrow slit windows let Horuset's dim red light filter in, casting the chamber in a glow like dying embers. Candles guttered in the heavy air, their flames struggling against the sweltering moisture.

Darth Caedes sat cross-legged at the chamber's center. Around him, they swayed—the Jen'rusalka—dozens of pale female figures with stretched, unnaturally long limbs, clad only in greasy hair which pooled on the stone floors around them. Three full covens had joined Caedes this day, more than had been gathered in one place since the taking of Korriban and the erasure of its Ashlan defilers. Their voices rose and fell in throaty chants, harsh and almost simian. The air thrummed with their incantations of far-sight, old syllables stitched together amidst almost incomprehensible noises.

With each breath, Caedes' form shifted. Slowly. Painfully. His natural visage—a clawdite's grey, reptilian skin, marred by deep, slick radiation burns—twitched and melted away. Flesh smoothed. Bones clicked and realigned. Features sharpened. The scars vanished, replaced by the severe, unblemished face of a handsome human man. His torso, slick with sweat, gleamed in the dim light. His chest rose and fell as the final shifts in his transformation took hold.

The chanting stopped.
Silence.

Chamber doors snapped open with a hydraulic hiss, steam spilling into the hall beyond. Caedes opened his eyes—bright gold and gleaming. He rose with deliberate slowness.

One of the Jen'rusalka stirred. As she stood, her twisted form shifted too, hair pulling back, limbs shortening with gut wrenching, wet snaps. In moments, a young Sith woman stood beside him, veiled and dressed in clean white. Without a word, she stepped forward. In her hands, a crown of black hammered metal—its jagged spikes sharp as broken glass. She lifted it high and lowered it onto Caedes' brow.

"There has been an awakening," murmured the veiled woman, her voice no longer a hag's rasp but smooth and serene.

"I felt it, Ffion," echoed Caedes, his whispered voice like dry leaves beneath the crush of a boot.

"The fates weave as the fates will. I go now to meet them."

Ffion bowed, stepping back and once again taking her place among the seated sisters.

"Go, my King."

He turned to the newcomer in the room and nodded.

"Lord Seer," he said in greeting, not quite contemptuous.

"Why have you disturbed my meditation?"

Darth Malum of House Marr · Feb 25, 2025

Malum sat upon the command throne, gazing impassively upon the mass in front of him that was growing in size with each second — the red sands of the planet that had been the birthplace of their Order, the birthplace of their people, Korriban. It had been here that legends had spoken, that histories had argued, that the Dark Jedi had fled after their defeat, that which story that seemed to be the model of all Sith, their victory foiled despite all manner of battlefield success, destined to flight, fated to rebuild, doomed to fail. Their first home, turned nought but desert wastes, the tombs of their ancestors to be the only bounty of worth, as sand attempted to break visor.

For all which respect he bore the planet, Korriban had never... it seemed that he had always had bad luck when it came to visits to Korriban, or more aptly, perhaps it was that he had used up all his luck on his first visit to their ancient homeworld. After all, it could have only been luck, that a Sith acolyte survived the trip to the heart of the Ashlan Crusade, not only surviving both their patrols in space and land, but too, giving him exactly what he needed to uncover the Holocron that had been most dear to him.

But seemingly, after that, every other visit to the world had ended on a sour note, or otherwise been various measures of terrible. When he had gone to actually find the Holocron, success had manifested, but the ancient relic remained inert, unmoving, a piece of the puzzle, one laid out by his most famous and great ancestor refusing his heir, even as its ashes recognised him. Then, the next to rescue his co-apprentice, at the dawn of a rebellion which said co-apprentice had concocted. The leather of his black gloves became taut as he pulled and formed fists, releasing out caustic breath, as masked eyes fell away from the planet, and the anger, that old familiar anger filled him.

Then of course there had been the masquerade when... when he had almost lost himself entirely.

When he had almost done something unforgivable.

And now again, another trip to Korriban promised to be as unfulfilling as the last. As the silence of the bridge droned on, interrupted only by the clanker of fingers entering the information required for their descent, long ago the clearance codes had been supplied, to the colossal Korribani fleet in orbit. It was a waste in his opinion, of all the times the Caldera had been breached, they had never come for Korriban.

There was nothing for the enemy on Korriban apart from Sith humiliation, in such regard, he wondered privately to himself if it was pride alone that had such a fleet be in orbit above the sandy dune. It had only seen widespread deployment on Sluis Van... for all the waste that had been, but, he could hardly blame the Korribani for that.

Still, it had not emerged out for Woostri, which he supposed, fit nicely on the public reason for this visit of a Dark Councillor to the farest fringe of the Empire. What exactly was the King of Korriban up to? There was no lie, that curiosity burned, at the prospect of uncovering what exactly Darth Caedes was doing. Whether it was by mere happenstance or purposeful, the rising stars of the Order had little direct contact with each other, it was not that surprising he supposed, in many regards, Darth Caedes was entirely antithetical to his purposes, a user of the undead, aligned loosely or not with the Kainite, and apparently not one shy about the shedding of innocent blood if the histories that came out of Coruscant ruminated truly.

And of course, prison warden over his cousin's cage. That all reports of the world, had made it readily apparent that it was a gilded one, made little difference to Malum in the end.

He had decided long ago on Thule, that he had little desire to have the Clawdite anywhere near his blood.

He would have to stomach meeting with the confusing figure, who seemed enigmatic at the best of times, who with one hand offered places for Tsis'Kaar within his world and Academy, and with the other, had bowed his head to Kaine in at least seeming allegiance. Curiosity might have made him wonder, but...

...He knew the true purpose of his meeting here.

It was as the shuttle entered orbit, that from behind them, rapidly ships began emerging out of hyperspace, Shikkars and Arbites primarily, followed suit by much heavier and larger, requisitioned Eternalist Leviathan-class Star Destroyers, led at the forefront by a truly primordial and ancient vessel, one which might have rung familiar for the once Lord of the One Sith, a Dar Itah-class Grand Battlecruiser. It was an escort befitting the Lord of the Tsis'Kaar and a Dark Councillor he imagined, and officially that was the role that it would serve, for the grand meeting between Sith Lords. For after all, even with all desire, he had been unable to bring the might of the Tsis'Kaar crashing into the Caldera.

So instead, a reminder, a visible reminder, of all which he could do if he was tested.

He smiled sardonically beneath the mask, as the shuttle began its descent, a voice registering in his ear, providing him with the go-ahead for their operation to begin, standing from his throne, the artificial air of the ship billowed his blackened cloak, as he turned for the hanger.

Taking his place, in front and prominence, behind him, the helmed heads of his Guard, and the masked faces of his Tsis'Kaar. Descending down to the private hanger of the governor of this world.

His amulet was cold.

A foreboding sign.

"...I do not feel her presence." He whispered into the comms by his ear. She was not kept at his palace... somewhere else on the world then?

Darth Caedes

Elmindra Xitaar
Mentioned:

Darth Carnifex

Revna

Madrona A’Mia · Feb 26, 2025

Lost deep in thought, gazing out across the horizon, notice of an approaching vessel reached her via ripples in the Weave mere moments before Korriban's security protocols registered it. A faint nostalgia wafted over her, like a breeze across her skin, and A'Mia made to stand from where she'd been basking in the cold light of Horuset in the front courtyard of the palace. The increasing number of visions she'd been having were promising, though she was still far from being a fully fledged Oracle. At times, the data she received begged twice as many questions as it answered.

Accessing her com-link as she glided, A'Mia sought updates from personnel whose job it was to acquire details of those entering and exiting orbit. The woman considered carefully who else to notify. Then she thought better of making a fuss, regardless of whoever had come calling.

Darth Caedes would offer clarity and instruction, so she went to him without delay.

Darth Caedes said:
"Lord Seer," he said in greeting, not quite contemptuous."Why have you disturbed my meditation?"

But she sensed he knew why already.

They'd taken what time they had to prepare themselves to welcome guests. A'Mia was dressed simply in deep purple polyweave robes and her long loc-style vines flowed free, cascading down her back. The Lord Seer accompanied her King to the palace landing area and together they waited. There had been no time for fanfare, though the neti doubted it would've been provided anyway. It wasn't that they were austere as a rule. No, many instances of grandeur and artistic expression had occurred under the guiding hand of Caedes and his Lords. Statecraft though was often conducted plainly here which suited A'Mia just fine. Her smooth red-brown face turned up to consider the boarding ramp, her small smile serene on an otherwise emotionless visage.

Darth Strosius &

Darth Strosius · Feb 27, 2025

As much as Darth Strosius would have liked to slip back into His meditation while the final preparations and then the departure itself was made, He simply couldn't. He was restless, tense and full of nerves. His shifting and turning in the small compartment had only ceased when He heard the shuttle become occupied. Given the need to keep His presence hidden He couldn't even reach out into the Force to sense what was happening, all He could do was wait. And wait. And. Wait.

It wasn't until the almost whisper through His comlink reached His ears that He realized He had gnawed through His on lip in frustration and impatience, wincing slightly as the skin began to heal the moment that His fangs left it. :"All the more reason to begin my search as soon as possible.": There were numerous ways to cloud and mask an individual's presence in the Force and on a world with such a potent nexus like Korriban such methods would be all the easier.

Finding Revna was never going to be an easy feat of course, that much they knew already, but without the Force to guide their direction it would be even harder. It was of no matter though, not with Him there. Darth Strosius and Malum may have been taught similarly by their late master but there was always a few key differences that would never quite fade it seemed. Darth Strosius was a hunter, not merely an assassin but a tracker when the need arose, and He had yet to let any trail go cold on His watch.

He would find Revna even if He had to tear through every tomb on Korriban to do it.

:"Find us a landing zone and quick, I grow tired of this wretched box.": Normally confined spaces were rather comforting but at the moment all it did was remind Him that there was still work to be done, that the task at hand still lay ahead and that His apprentice was still out of reach. Once He could move freely that would all change. If only the shuttle pilot could hurry and land so that no witnesses would spy His own exit from the vessel.

Darth Malum of House Marr /

Revna

Darth Caedes · Feb 28, 2025

Outer Rim Territories
Korriban System
c. 905 ABY

"The fool who sits upon an inherited throne mistakes its comfort for dominion. He will drape himself in the robes of much greater Sith, thinking the fabric will grant him power."
—Darth Caedes, ruminations

Castle Vardin's Northern-most landing platforms lay open beneath Korriban's blood-red sky, exposed to her bitter winds and the chilly glare of Horuset.

Darth Caedes emerged without pageantry, A'Mia at his side, his stride graceful and unhurried. With each step, the loose folds of unadorned black robes whispered against the red stone underfoot. No gilded procession heralded his presence, no banners announced his arrival, no display of force walked in armor alongside him—only the quiet certainty that he was here, and that would suffice. That he had prepared quarters for these visitors was, in itself, magnanimous enough.

Above, distorted by the planet's thin clouds, the silhouettes of Malum's fleet hung in upper atmosphere. The Dar Itah-class Grand Battlecruiser loomed among them, massive and bloated. Apparently, Malum had thought it clever to bring such a vessel here to bare. A flicker of disgust curled in Caedes' gut. Of course he had.

A relic of the One Sith, a warship of conquest from the golden age of their Order's supremacy, now dragged out of the grave to play at being something more than a shadow. Once, these ships had been the spearheads of a unified order, their mere presence a declaration of the Sith's undiminished and unquestionable strength. In those times, the Sith had reigned from the height of their power, himself apprenticed to the Empress Matsu Xiangu, where they presided over Coruscant and the wider galaxy from the Galactic Core. That was when the promise of the Dar Itah had meant something, when that promise was self evident. Now, when the Sith scraped out their domain from the corners of the Galactic Rim? It was an empty prop, a monument to an era Malum had never lived, and a power he had never wielded nor could he ever understand.

Did the boy think this show of force would intimidate him? That parading a borrowed legacy above Korriban would grant him the weight of history? Caedes scowled. Was Malum so insecure outside of the Emperor's shadow that he required the crutch of warships to feel important? Did he need this illusion of strength merely to hold his spine straight beneath Korriban's scrutiny? Did he fear the world, or had he simply mistaken it for another of the Empire's vassal states in need of demonstration?

Darth Carnifex and his Kainite retinue had acted in much the same way. Carnifex had come to Korriban similarly draped in spectacle and smothered by his own self important mythos, his fleets blotting out the sky. At least Carnifex had rights to claim such prestige for himself. And now, Malum followed in his wake, so desperate to be seen, to be feared, that he clutched at old symbols like a blind priest groping toward lost gods.

Malum's shuttle descended, cutting through the haze, the hiss of hydraulics slicing the air as it touched down. The fleet, for all its excess, remained impotent in the heavens above them, a security blanket clutched by a child, such a grand display of excess and waste—and for what? From inside the shuttle, shadows stirred—Malum's guard all preparing to spill forth like actors taking the stage. Actors from an old play, rewritten by those who did not understand the script.

Caedes exhaled slowly through his nose, gaze flat and unimpressed. He came to a stop at the platform's edge, hands folded within his sleeves, gaze molten, waiting.

Darth Malum of House Marr · Mar 7, 2025

Malum smiled grimly beneath the mask, even in the face of difficulty, or in this case increased difficulty of their manifest purpose, his co-apprentice always seemed to have a way of simplifying it all into a matter that only required more effort to overcome. There was a charm to such a thought process, even if at other times Malum could only think of the Sangnir's all too strident willingness to smash his head against a brick wall and expect a different result from the initial.

There was an old adage in regards to madness there... though, he supposed in some differing regards, they were both quite mad.

"You need not concern yourself, our descent begins," He spoke with the barest whisper, as the shuttle touched down upon its location, the northernmost landing platform, of what was named Castle Vardin, it was a pity, he would have rather the meeting take place at Korethy'r, the architecture had always been the most lovely there. Though… he supposed in a sense they were, from that they knew, the castle was seemingly connected to the Academy, still, there was an odd comfort to be found in the actual entrance ways of that Academy, rather than this new location he was to embark himself on.

Alas, it would not be the first disappointment of the trip, nor was it likely to be the last.

The members of his Guard stood at attention, the helmed and armoured hulks bearing the same grieves of a Sith Empire of days long since past. Their visage of greys, blacks, and reds, commanded attention, with a dreading silence, the hanger bay doors opening, a shallow light peering through the entrance, a shallow light filled with sand dusting along the exterior of the vehicle, as eyes allowed themselves to adjust to what was laid before them.

A bare sight.

Typical enough.

Disciplined columns marched through the doorways, their steps through cold boots the epicentres of felt quakes, the heralds of destruction that had fought upon a hundred different worlds, and had tasted victory every time. Followed suit by the wraiths of shadow, the masked faces of the Tsis'Kaar, their cloaks billowing in the wind, as of the darkness they emerged out from the ship's holds, shikkars gleaming in the light born of Horuset bearing down upon them.

As out from the end of the divulging columns of soldier and assassin, there lay at last, armoured in the make of composite, masked with a replica of a greater mask, at his sides, lightsabres that lay, for now, unequipped, staring down, red eyes glimmering dangerously beneath the visor upon the King of Korriban, joined with his Neti.

Out from the head of the congregation, a gruff older voice, began to speak, "Presenting Darth Malum, heir of the House of Marr, King of Alvaria and Eliad, Governor of Faldos, Lord Inquisitor, Lord of the Tsis'Kaar, and Dark Councillor of His Imperial Majesty's Dark Council." Despite the gravelly nature of Custos' voice, the titles flowed out silkily, it had taken only a few years for the accumulation of such influence and power.

What could he accomplish in a decade more?

The masked Sith looked to Darth Caedes, curious how he would reply, indeed, they both had their own thoughts on how that would be.

Darth Caedes

Madrona A’Mia · Mar 10, 2025

The neti also noted the accompanying fleet of the newly landed lead ship. She too had a history with the One Sith, a lifetime ago. Not one quite so storied as her Lord Master, but recognition and bemusement flickered across pupil-less blue-green eyes. That same gaze slid sidelong to regard Darth Caedes and take measure of the sociopolitical temperature, as it was her role to stand strong beside him in lieu of

Elmindra Xitaar . A'Mia considered herself equal to the task, but there was no telling what new powers might come into play and alter her calculative musings.

Rows of guards, rhythmic footsteps, the stately call of a practiced herald. It was all very theatrical even if militaristic, though of course most Sith did have a flair for the dramatic. The mild mannered visage of the Lord Seer was somewhat at odds with the lurking, creeping presence of her within the Weave. She moved faintly closer to her King as her own bright voice rose into the chilly desert air, one of her long delicate wrists brushing the top of his hand as she made formal introductions.

"Well met, Darth Malum of House Marr."

Her assessment of the King in that moment urged caution and control. There was a fraying at his edges, a deep seated pain at the disappearance of

Revna and even deeper re-opening of long buried wounds. Through all their combined efforts to knit him together: with aid from The First Lord, his Jen'rusalka, and through A'Mia's own ministrations, they'd all played a part. Yet still,

Darth Caedes was adrift and it was her responsibility to moor him to this moment.

Pageantry would not do. Caedes held many titles, only a few of which might be prudent to use here. There was a time and place for fanciful displays of beauty or decorum, the likes of which her Master had perfected over many years. However, she could sense the disquiet growing within him and knew it best to move matters along to business.

"It has been some years since last we met. As you know, I am A'Mia Madrona, and this is my Lord Master, Darth Caedes, King of Korriban. To what do we owe the honor of this unexpected visit?"

Darth Strosius · Mar 11, 2025

The unmistakable slight jolt of the shuttle landing was a welcome sensation given the circumstances, any other time it would have been the slightest of inconveniences but now it was like a fresh gasp of air. One that He hadn't been able to take since the descent to Korriban's surface began. The sound of boots marching out of the shuttle made Him release a sigh of relief, although He didn't yet move to open the compartment. He'd wait until the sounds outside had left, which should mean the welcome party and Malum's entourage would be gone as well, before He could slip out.

Admittedly a part of Darth Strosius was tempted to lift the compartment's door and simply hide within the shuttle until they had all walked off but impatience wouldn't do at all in this circumstance. This was a delicate ruse and one that they all had to maintain. Even if that meant biding His time and resisting the urge to groan in frustration as the muffled voice of someone belching out Malum's titles and honorifics had to be endured.

He'd come far for a young fool, as impressive as it was concerning. Given what had been revealed in regards to Malum and the corpse's wife, much of those accomplishments seemed far less glimmering. It was easy to go far when one had tea parties with an empress. If only they'd get on with the formalities and move inside, His arms were starting to cramp and stretching them was simply not an option in this horrid cupboard of a compartment.

Darth Malum of House Marr /

Revna

Darth Caedes · Mar 12, 2025

Outer Rim Territories
Korriban System
c. 905 ABY

"A name may open doors, true, but it will not stop the blade at your throat."
—Darth Caedes, ruminations

Caedes barely inclined his head, golden eyes fixed on the Dark Councilor with the weight of shrewd appraisal. The titles spilled forth like overripe fruit from Custos' mouth, each one stinking with the rot of self-importance. A governor, a king, a lord of this, an heir of that. Did Malum think his accomplishments would impress him? I know who you are.

A'Mia, as always, was more polite than he cared to be, though she wasted no time on pleasantries. Wise. The Neti knew his patience for this kind of theater was razor-thin. Caedes exhaled, letting a silence stretch between them, then tilted his chin up slightly, peering at Malum from atop the bridge of his nose.

"You bring a fleet," Caedes intoned, voice smooth though steeped in a quiet disdain.

"A procession, an announcer."

He motioned vaguely with an off hand. His gaze flicked toward the battlecruiser, to the armada, still loitering above Korriban's skies. A safety blanket, clutched tight in a toddler's grubby fingers. He looked back, expression unreadable.

"Prey tell, Malum," the King hissed, that name tasting sour in his mouth.

"Was the weight of your message so great that you feared a mere shuttle could not bear its burden? Surely you did not cross the galaxy in such grandeur only to hear yourself announced."

Darth Strosius · Apr 23, 2025

The cramped compartment and the unmistakable sounds of conversation still being held just outside the shuttle had finally worn His patience down to nothing worth considering. He wasn't some coward shying away from the task at hand just to preserve His own anonymity, He was a Sith Lord. And He had a wrong to right, an injustice to avenge, a king to slay. Malum had brought plenty of forces but even now entertained words as though such things alone could resolve this issue.

But action was required and action is what He would perform.

He wrenched open the compartment and let His presence loose in turn from its almost undetectable state, wisps flaring into pale wings in the presence of Korriban's sacred aura. "The weight of your transgressions is what necessitated ceremony, not the message." He called out as He stepped onto the shuttle's ramp, speaking clearly and out of turn despite the instant looks of shock and surprise from the entourages on both sides of the greeting party. It was time to stop pretending and get down to business.

Heavy footsteps carried the robed figure down the ramp, in lieu of His broken mask His hood cast a shadow over His features leaving only the blazing amber eyes that fixed the King of Korriban with a glare. "A daughter of Wonosa, stolen by Kainite filth and last seen here on your world. Whether a gift of a prisoner or a change of prison matters little, but she was indeed present here." Darth Strosius all but shoved His way through the entourage that Malum had brought, caring little for any that would dare stand in His path.

"But even on the surface I can sense no trace of her presence, which leaves me with but one simple question." His lightsaber flew into His hand as He flicked His wrist forward, the crimson blade igniting to occupy the space between Himself and the greeting party as the tendrils that encompassed His wings sharpened to deadly points. "What have you done to my Revna?"

Revna

Madrona A’Mia · Apr 25, 2025

There was a barely contained tension just beginning to crop up between her Lord Master and the Dark Councilor, one that promised to be interesting of course but perhaps not productive. Not if

Darth Malum of House Marr thought to bite back, as so many young Sith might. The words of

Darth Caedes were smooth, calm, and calculated of course- any jab contained therein was perfectly allowable and any offense taken would reflect poorly on the reciever rather than the one that uttered them.

A'Mia shifted just slightly more, hand atop the wrist of her Lord. It was a grounding gesture that might almost have appeared to originate from either of them but placed Caedes in a lead position as if they might be about to dance. Before anyone else could speak, there was a sudden rending sound within the ship and its origin soon became clear.

Darth Strosius

The deceased Sith Lord, cut down by the hand of one he called brother, was suddenly before them. He appeaered decidedly less dead than previously thought and angry.

Surprise registered on the neti's face, though as always her emotions were muted. Wide eyes and an appraising look were all that told of her shock. Curious and keen gaze peered intently at his shadowed face. A faint warning hiss and slithering rattle sounded from beneath her robes but she made no defensive or offensive move in the face of his aggression.

"Alisteri..." she inclined her head slightly, eyes never leaving him, "If you pause to confer, you might find us nearly as distraught as you about Revna's absence."

Darth Caedes · Apr 25, 2025

Outer Rim Territories
Korriban System
c. 905 ABY

"One to see the past. One to see the present. One to see the future. The visions of my Jen'rusalka are unerring."
—Darth Caedes, ruminations

Caedes remained still. He did not bristle nor flinch at the snap-hiss of Strosius' lightsaber, its shriek splitting the frigid air of Korriban; he merely watched in silence as the wraith of a once-dead man stormed forth, seething with indignation and blind certainty.

Strosius. Alive.

He took in the sight with all of the outwardly cool, measured performance of a changeling, allowing no hint of the shock rippling through him to breach the tells of his expression. How!? He had seen the moment of Strosius' defeat with his own eyes. Stood side by side to the Apprentice he now so mistakenly invoked. Almost, he had convinced himself of death's finality—almost. He had even prepared the rites of mourning, believing Korriban was soon to claim one more of its favored sons.

Yet here Strosius stood, defiant against death itself.

The tombs do not share their sands with the living, Caedes mused, the oddities and omens of his recent endeavors finally unfolding into clarity in the wake of this new revelation. Nor with those touched only briefly by Death. The Valley rejects what it is not yet ready to enshrine. Even so, there was no beauty in the miracle stood now before him—only petulance. Anger, sharpened into a weapon too quickly drawn. Ignorance, made hot in the fires of misinformation and ill placed passions. The red saber, thrust out in accusation, did not frighten the Lord of Korriban—merely incited his pity.

"Alisteri," intoned the Lord Seer at his side.

"If you pause to confer, you might find us nearly as distraught as you about Revna's absence."

Caedes regarded the glowing blade with a sneer so slight it barely moved the corners of his mouth.

Revna. Her absence was an open wound in Caedes' side, though one he bore with dignity, rather than a childish rage. She had left freely and of her own will, called by the Force to clear from her path what obstacles yet stood between her and ascension. Revna was no one's prisoner—least of all his. But these fools—Malum and Strosius alike—saw only what their shortsighted fears portrayed for them. Once, he too had been moved by such wrathful blindness as this. It felt odd to relate in that way, feeling all of a sudden old and stretched thin by the passage of time. These two, brothers by merit of shared history, sought opponents where there were none. They wielded their misunderstandings like crudely built cudgels; like blades turned inward upon themselves. He was struck, all at once, by the uncomfortable realization of just how far he'd come.

Bolstered by the faint pressure of A'Mia's touch at his wrist, Caedes let the moment hang. When finally he spoke, his voice was gravel-low and crackled like the throaty growl of a beast.

"You speak of her as if she were property lost, something which could be stolen and hidden away."

The molten gold of his gaze seemed to stare through Strosius. His voice hardened, eyes narrowing.

"She is none of those things."

He shifted slightly, weight resting casually to one hip, one appraising brow levitating above the other.

"I mourned your passing once already, Strosius," he said, softer now, though no less dangerous.

"I am not eager to do so again. Put away your weapon, that we may speak in earnest of your purpose here."

Darth Strosius · Apr 25, 2025

The burning gaze of the resurrected Sith snapped to the Neti as she spoke, narrowing in suspicion. "Absence." He hissed, lips pulling back into a barely visible snarl that showed off far too many pairs of fangs clenched together in His mouth. "Is not the term I would use for her capture and confinement." Surprisingly enough while His wrath had most evidently and decidedly been kindled it hadn't quite boiled over yet. He spoke clearly and almost matter of factly, albeit heavily tinged with a rather unhinged tone that most certainly implied otherwise.

Darth Strosius turned His ever-present glare back to the King of Korriban when he finally spoke on his own terms, although His expression hardly shifted from its glowering. "And yet that is how she has been treated. Passed from one minion of Carnifex to another until now she's been handed off to you." He seethed, tightening His grip on the crimson blade. It had been months since her capture and now despite being closer than ever to rescuing Revna she was still nowhere to be found.

At least, nowhere that was obvious from what He could sense. He doubted there was a shortage of dungeons hidden across Korriban that could easily blot out any presence in the Force if need be. He just needed to narrow down where one that could be holding Revna might be. With any luck it was nearby and not in some forgotten valley or crevice halfway across the planet.

"You will speak in earnest now, or else I will tear apart every last one of your lackeys until someone tells me the location of my apprentice." Even He knew that He couldn't simply slaughter His way through Korriban, but neither would He have to if it came down to it. His gaze flickered back to A'Mia for the briefest of moments before He gestured towards her with a nod of His head, blade still pointed at Darth Caedes. "After I'm done dissecting you, she's next. Then I shall find that Falleen scoundrel that you sent against me the first time and once I'm done ripping her into pieces I'll work my way down from there. Unless you loosen your tongue within the next few moments and quit wasting my time!"

Revna

Madrona A’Mia · Saturday at 11:19 AM

A moment of emotional transference nearly made A'Mia sway. The pain which was buried from sight within her Master's unshakable outward appearance, his calm quiet demeanor giving no indication of the metaphysical hole

Revna had opened upon her departure. The fact that

Darth Caedes could bear such discomfort and go on as normal gave the neti no small amount of awe.

Why do people subject themselves to such torment? She wondered, to what end does it serve them?

As for

Darth Strosius , the man appeared even more outwardly anguished by the fact that his apprentice was missing. So much so, he thought to turn his ire upon herself and her Lord. The expression of surprise hadn't yet faded and now an edge of incredulity added itself to her nymph-like face.

Presumptuous, she thought, because if he stopped to reflect more carefully he would understand that a threat to me doesn't hold the same weight.

Her bond with Caedes was unlike any the neti had experienced. He was indeed the most perfect kind of teacher for her and in turn, she was ever diligent of her studies even though she was a rather unorthodox apprentice. Protectiveness though was nothing she'd ever felt from the man. A threat against her was likely to be considered another test of her abilities, an opportunity to prove her strength or if she were outmatched, then her cunning and resilience.

There was much she could say to the angry Sith Lord. However, in a moment of extreme prudence the botanical woman wiped clean her expression once more. Serenity overtook her as she found the deep well of cold calculation and impassivity within herself, continuing to silently offer a grounding presence to her King. If words were to prevail here over hasty conflict, it would need to be Caedes that wrought a temporary peace.

Darth Caedes · 2025-05-02T14:11:55-0400

Outer Rim Territories
Korriban System
c. 905 ABY

"Through victory my chains are broken"
—Sith Code, 5th stanza...

"You presume much, Strosius."

His tone remained even and unhurried—as though explaining the obvious to a new student.

"I discovered Revna at the Kaggath you lost. It was your death which left her stranded and vulnerable, susceptible to the leash thrown round her neck by Prazutis and the scheming Kainites."

Daring, a smoldering intensity to his gaze, Caedes stepped further forward, ignoring the humming saber pointed towards him. The whisper of his voice became dangerous, a seething calm not unlike that of a wet stone being drawn down across a blade of sharp steel.

"She was not handed to me. She was abandoned by you. I offered her a place to grow. A place to mourn. Somewhere she could call her own. She accepted, and so I brought her here. To a place where she could thrive. To walk the tombs and connect with spirits passed. To teach the students of Kor'ethyr—start her own journey towards Knighthood, in her own way. To begin unraveling the pain left to her by captors, abusers, and absent Masters—who even now treat her like some tool rather than a sovereign will. She has been free so long as she's walked Korriban's sands, Strosius. Empowered to go where she pleases, and to stay because that was her choice—not because she was caged."

Caedes brought a hand to his neck, searching beneath the folds of his robe to retrieve a silver chain hanging there. Dangling from its center, a ring—slender, etched, and unmistakably hers. He studied it for a moment, his gaze unfocusing, letting the object's faint psychokinetic echoes filter through him, letting them stir memories to life within his chest. Memories he'd share now with Strosius, were he capable of accessing them. Upon its surface are delicate Sith runes depicting "tikras," or faith.

"You may recognize this. We passed it between us often in recent months," he said quietly, holding it aloft between finger and thumb.

His voice became so soft as to almost be carried away in the winds.

"In moments of triumph and pride, of awe, of passion, of commitment." Of love.

He snapped the chain, then tossed the ring underhand to Strosius.

"She's gone now, and it wounds me too. She left without proper explanation or farewell, yet I do not doubt the strength of her conviction nor the clarity in her purpose. I choose to believe she's hurled herself towards Prazutis—towards those chains in need of breaking. That has been her choice, and I support her."