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Will to Power (Sith)

Lord Ghoul

Guest
L
@[member="Samanthe Quiwl "]@[member="Dranok Lussk"] @[member="Lucien Cordel"] @[member="Valik"] @[member="Shinjū Aÿasha"] @[member="Anaya Fen"]
@[member="Kaine Zambrano"]

Dromund Kaas

A shadow descended upon the capital of the Empire. Once a great and proud civilization, the Empire was now simply proud. The most powerful of that circle of renowned Sith Lords - read as infamous - had departed, seeking better prospects than a crumbling government. But now... they returned. And worlds trembled at their coming. This was not an invasion, nor a skirmish between two different nations. This was not war. This was insurrection. This was a regime change. This was a bloody tradition stretching back millennia. This was nature at work. The strong would rule. The weak would perish.

A yacht settled into a secluded spaceport near the palace structure. It bore the identification of a well known humanitarian... Behind the machinations of these Sith Lords, a smirk, a flash of blue eyes, and a mischievous chuckle; the Sith Lord of derision and deception: Mikhail Shorn.

Mikhail stood before the enormous doors of the throne room. He had waited so many years for this moment. Vengeance. The Sith had taken him when he'd fled, a fugitive of the Republic, but they had deceived him. Their peaceful arms had been the arms of a nightmare. Instead of bliss he found pain. In place of rest he felt only a hollowness inside that would never be satiated. They had taken a confused and lost soldier and turned him into a monster of destruction. But he was not their monster. Their creation was not their's to rule. He was one of them, but he would never be ruled by them.

There was a notable difference in Mikhail's appearance. For one, in place of his typical leather jacket and pants, he wore robes; black, Sith robes. He seemed more aloof, more distant. He still retained his recalcitrant disdain for titles and governmental structures, but his aura now had a dark gravitas. Or perhaps it was merely the unlit lightsaber he held in his right hand. A black cylinder, with a bronze dragon wrapping around it, open jaws forming the emitter. The Soulsaber, now fully under his control. Oh, it still tried to talk to him, to seduce him with talk of death. Only this time, he had enough power to control it.

Battlemind fueled his powers, granting an anger brought on by the Dark Side to fill his hollowness.

He would have an audience with @[member="Tyrin Ardik"]. And he would have it now. He raised a hand, his fist curling tight. The doors began to crumple and groan at the hinges until finally he wrenched them free. They fell to the floor with a tremendous clang.

Then he waltzed right in.
 
Derisive Umbaran
Character
@[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

A very real Tyrin sat upon the throne this time around, apparently alone in his throne room. Having been Emperor for a few months now, he needed some place to sit and think in silence. It just so happened that, now that the throne was cleaned of Voractios' corpse, it was fairly comfortable. The fact that no one really came in here any more was also a nice plus. But today, as any day worth mentioning often is, was different. Tyrin looked up in time to see the throne room's impressive, metallic doors crumple and fold like cardboard.

Shorn.

Of course it was Shorn.

As expected, the intrepid Sith-not-a-Sith then entered, looking somewhat more dour than usual. Tyrin screamed internally and it became increasingly louder when he noticed the number of individuals standing behind him and their respective presences in the Force. This was going to be a sad, sad day for the Ardik regime if Shorn was here for what Tyrin thought he was here for.

"I would've opened those if you had knocked, y'know." Tyrin said with a sigh, watching Shorn as he approached.
 

Marcus Faust

Fracti No Ultra
Character
​What a karking idiot was thought going through them minds of those who watched as @[member="Mikhail Shorn"] made the decision to knock down the Emperor's door. A dark chuckle came from the shadows of the room, its owner was a black robe clad figure, whose features were hidden under the waves of ebony fabric. Faust was a Knight, plain and simple, he wouldn't be able to stop Shorn alone. But who said he was alone? He was standing with @Tyrin Ardik and ALL of his allies. But he knew one thing, Shorn wasn't alone either.

"Plan on paying for those damages?" He asked through a chuckle. A smirk forming under his helmet, as hate filled eyes locked on Mikhail from behind his visor and hood, eager hands fought to resist the urge to ignite the one of the saber's on Marcus' hip. He'd wait, ever so patiently, and when the time came, he'd make a move. A deadly one.
 

Judas of Vahl

Beyond Broken
Character
The doors crumpled like the flimsy pieces of support work they were. A very real comparison to the current regime as their pointman, Mikhail Shorn, happily skipped into the room like a kid walking through a candy store. The only thing was, this particular little kiddie was toting a saber and emitted dark energies as he pranced towards his opponent. Tyrin Ardik, the Emperor. It was quite funny about this man's rise to power, his killing of the late Darth Voracitos was nothing to be proud of. Voracitos was weak, easily predicted, and was vulnerable to revealing his openings.

As the metallic frames of the entrywork clomped onto the ground with a hearty thud, Dranok strode in behind Shorn. A joyous Lussk was adorned in a set of black robes with a matching tunic, trousers, and boots. It wasn't like the military man to dress like this, but his callings had urged him to wear something that he could maneuver easily in, unlike the usual pristine-white uniform he wore. The man wore his dual phase saberstaff, which hung secured upon his utility belt, swaying with his motion as he entered the room without a comment.

Actions spoke louder than words.
@[member="Mikhail Shorn"] @[member="Tyrin Ardik"] @[member="Marcus Faust"]
 

Olom Grihk

Sith Munchkin
Character
Olom had simply been walking through the palace, delivering some paperwork to imperial intelligence about a side project on Helska. The blue Alien heard a massive ruckus of noise, and proceeded towards the throne room, sighing. He looked at the doors on the floor, and the obvious stance of the participants. He stood quiet. He would see this mess for himself. Maybe he'd learn something from this mess. Or maybe he'd get to watch people get beaten down.

He simply stood calmly, to the side, deciding to let the leaders talk this out. He'd defend the empire if needed, but his might was lacking, both in the force and it's power. Still, he was smart, and dangerous, and not in the best of moods. "Whatever is happening, can we please just spare the theatrics and make it quick? Whatever this is, I still have work to do...." he muttered off-handedly, standing at a side-entrance to a hallway. He really wasn't impressed with the plan, as it hadn't proven to be a plan yet.
 
Become the Crisis
Writer
Circe had been busy. For the past couple of hours prior to this, she had been researching the Empire's collection of ancient Star Maps, connecting the territorial boundaries for various Dark Side empires that once held domain in this sector of space. As well, she had researched the fate of a large number of Dark Side relics. These relics did not include holocrons or scrolls - the contents of those were long since digitized - but real artifacts, made by the ancient Dark Lords millennia ago, lost to history.

That was all interrupted by the horrendous noise of the throne room doors getting absolutely shredded by Mikhail's telekinetic abilities. While still typing, she focused with the Force, building an illusion in the throne room, a doppelganger, if you will. One she could sense all things of.

-

The form of Circe, wearing classic black robes of the Sith, shimmered into being next to the far wall of the facility. For the time being, she would merely observe the confrontation as it began to unfold.
 
The Admiralty
Codex Judge
Garoth regarded the confrontation in front of him and had to suppress a smile, even now it was clearly obvious how weak the foundations of the Sith doctrine were. No one was surprised by this turn of event, it was embedded into the learning of the Sith. To become mighty, you have to defeat the ones above you. Clear and simple in theory, highly restrictive in practice. There was simply no trust to be had in the Sith Empire, Masters have to guard themselves against their apprentices. Fearful of a sudden power change that would cost them their life. Because of this, the Masters mostly refused to pass along all of their knowledge and strength to desperately cling to a false hope of survival.

There had to be a better way, but even now Garoth did not have the slightest clue of what that could be. Not that it mattered now, at this moment there would be a power shift. Even if the Emperor would survive and defeat the rebels, he would be in a weakened state. And a rival Sith Lord, hungry for power, would usurp his position.

Sadly it would not be Garoth, he knew he was but a dwarf surrounded by giants. He could feel their power in the Force and the knowledge that even the weakest among them could squash him like a bug made him wary. Garoth would content himself by watching the spectacle from his safe position, looking upon the game of thrones and enjoying every second of the Chaos that would emerge from this insurrection.
 

Nisha Decrilla

Character
Character
A musical laugh rippled out from behind Mikhail, Anaya Fen moved with catlike grace from his shadow, her eyes settling on Tyrin, fingers gently brushing Mikhail's arm as she moved away from him. This was his show, she was here simply to watch the chaos and stop anyone who tried to intervene. "Come now, Tyrin," she purred at his words "Everyone knows the sith like to be dramatic. Knocking would be considered dull... much like your rule."

Eyes moved to those that had appeared and she tilted her head clicking her tongue is disappointment.

"We came to play a game." She purred "Its called 'Who's the better Sith?'"
 
Eternal Father
Writer
"An ignorant and petty game, but I should expect this caliber of intellect from rejects such as yourselves." Kaine appeared from behind the throne, moving to stand between the fools and the Emperor. He had only come because Tyrin was crucial to his plans, and he needed him alive and on the throne for his ambitions to bear fruit. He was garbed in the traditional maroon and ebony robes of the Sith, his hood kept down to reveal his scarred features and black hair tied back in a ponytail. Upon his right hand rested a gauntlet made from wicked black metal, a powerful dark side artifact gifted to him by Moridin himself that gifted him with many new strengths. Perhaps Anaya could sense Moridin's presence on the artifact, but in the end it didn't matter if she did. If all things went according to plan Anaya and Mikhail would end up impaled on poles and placed outside the Imperial capital as example to all what fate befalls those that are foolish enough to challenge the Emperor, or more specifically Kaine's plan.

"I expected much from the fool and the harlot, but to see you within their ranks disappoints me, Dranok." He shrugged, "But if you are to die tonight, then I will grant you a warrior's death."
 
Derisive Umbaran
Character
"Mama Mia, here we go again." Tyrin sighed, rising from his throne.

The Umbaran unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, but did not ignite it just yet. Kaine appeared from behind the throne, and although Tyrin was highly concerned over how he got there or how long he had been there, it was a moot point. He was here to help as far as he could tell, so he would be helped. Shorn was inconceivably stronger than Tyrin when it came to a straight up duel. Tyrin would almost certainly be killed... Or worse. That is, if he fought fairly. Tyrin had absolutely no intention of doing so. His plan, impromptu as usual, would give these usurpers the theatrics they desired. Though the ending would be fairly anticlimactic for their tastes.

There was no pleasing everyone. Guess he would just have to kill them instead.

"Fine. If it's games and theatrics you want, it's games and theatrics you'll get." Tyrin began his walk down the flight of stairs that lead to the throne. "Knight Faust, new guy hiding in the shadows over there, you handle the Twi'lek. Lord Zambrano, Admiral Badchoices over there is calling for you."

The shadowy edges of the throne room appeared to crawl and seethe with the Dark Side as the Emperor reached the foot of the stairs. "Alright, Shorn. I'm all yours."
 
The Admiralty
Codex Judge
It was amusing to see the two groups prancing against each other, trying to intimidate their opponents into early submission. It was a psychological mind game and Garoth always loved those. There was only a small chance that the rebels would actually win this fight, most Sith seemingly supported the current Emperor. Oh they would bow to a new power, but their loyalty had to mean something. Still, Garoth was not about to intermingle in this fight. The risks were too grand and the payoffs to small.

At least they were until Lord Zambrano took the stage. Garoth had been trying to get the Lord to teach him in the ways of the Force for quite some time now, but never really seemed to get his attention. A plan started form in his head. It would be bold, daring and slightly suicidal. Perfect to finally get some consideration from his future Master. Though he would have to survive this encounter first and he did not expect it to be likely.

Vaulting over the balustrade, he landed beside Lord Zambrando. Garoth only acknowledged the Emperor and the King of Thule and a slight bow. "Masters."

Then he faced the rebels and brandished Vigilance and then said with a stern face. "Gentlemen and my Lady, it seems like you have the wrong address. The support group for suicide-prone maniacs is being held on the planet next-door."
 

Other Space Kaiden

Better than other-other space Kaiden
Writer
Thunderous foot steps echoed throughout the chamber as everyone's favorite Graug emerged from the shadows beyond Tyrin's throne. The beast's ashy skin trickled small trails of embers and smoke into the air as he marched forward, flanked on either side by his four Horde Guard warriors. Krag had come to speak to Tyrin about his plans for Kalee when the rebels decided to knock on the door...violently. With a grotesque snort, Krag's voice boomed over to the rascals who had just barged in

"Lessers....you have made a grave mistake." Krag snarled, taking a step forward and motioning for his Horde Guard to stay behind in the shadows. He heard Tyrin's commands but disregarded them...he was already zoning in on his prey. The predatory beast shifted his good eye to the Twi'lek master in the room and bared his teeth, which were but hardened cinders now. Pointing a clawed finger at the Twi'lek, Krag growled "You will be my first kill, your head will make a fine trophy."
 
Taiia's Shadow
Roleplay Judge
“Damnit all! Doomrider listens why can’t you?”

Sam sat in the hallway with a mouse droid that was attempting to escape her. She screwed on a small blaster to the side of the droid. The droid’s little wheels spun quickly attempting to get away. Finally pleased with the quick work she stood upon the droid and stomped on it till it moved towards the entrance where her Master and this Mikhail Shorn had lead them. Ripping open a package of glitterstim she placed it onto her tongue and then sprinkled the mouse droid with a bit of it.

“One for me and one for my homies”

Tossing the package away, she entered the room where her Master was being confronted by an apprentice and all of a sudden a rather ugly knight. Giving Krag a disgusted look she shook her head and hopped off the Mouse droid she was riding.

“Ey! I guess the Sith never taught you proper manners eh? Never polite to sick a lady and her well...dog"

Sam grumbled under her breath as she realized her place with Anaya, oh well it would only last for a bit longer until she becomes a Master.... hopefully. Her nose wrinkled at the disgusting sense of loyalty she felt for the woman - maybe this was all part of her game?

@[member="Anaya Fen"] @Krag @Mikhail Shorn
 

Valik

Professor of Alchemy
Character
"Does it really take a show of skin and some lekku to get some attention around here?" Valik said, with a smile. None of them would recognize his signature in the Force, as his armor was coated in a taozin lacquer, but as he looked around he also noticed none of them would recognize his face either. They were all small fish, none of them proper Sith as far as he was concerned. This was why he had left, the Sith Empire as it stood today was not worthy of his legacy, his strengths. This was why he was here with Mikhail, This was why a regime change was needed. At heart, Valik was a Sith, and today that would show. Igniting a crimson lightsaber he joined the side of the Lethe Twi'lek @[member="Anaya Fen"] and her apprentice, a familiar @Samanthe Quiwl.

"Let us see how the Emperor has raised his men compared to those past."

@[member="Krag"] @[member="Garoth Do'Urden"] @[member="Olom Grihk"]

OOC: Not sure who's against Anaya and Sam specifically, but I think you three are it. Make sure everybody's tagging everybody.
 

Shinju

Eater of the Dead
Writer
@[member="Olom Grihk"]

Shinju stood off to the side next to Olom with a shrug... The little man was in the right mind set. It was a time to watch and listen, true she worked for well everyone. Anaya she wanted to teacher her, Tyrin would feed her sometimes. Though lately he had been a little cheap in that department, Mikhail and Dranok had been at her wedding but Krag had been the dancer and oh what a dancer he had been.... It was amazing to say the least. Then there was her former apprentice Marcus whom she had such wonderful things to say... Bah this was getting complicated and now as she stood there her stomach growled. She turned her head to the side and spoke. "You ah want to get something to eat?"
 
the bedbound bard
Writer
In the shadows skulked the Umbaran, her eyes twinkling in delight as she watched the scene before her. None in the room knew she was there, for she hadn't made her presence known either through the Force, sound or physical appearance. And thus she observed as each individual appeared within the chambers, and Tyrin descended to meet them. Perhaps it would have been more wise for him to remain away from them for now - not because he was weak, but purely because there were a lot of them, and the Emperor was not yet aware of which tactics would be at play here. She knew a few of the faces, a few had taught her after all, and now they were facing one another off. A shame, but also an opportunity. And so, while they were still ignorant of her presence here, she stepped in behind the Emperor and his entourage and waited. Should they attempt to attack her former Master she would be ready.

Her lightsaber slipped down to the tip of her wrist, waiting to be lowered into her hand at the most opportune of moments, gaze slipping from Tyrin to Kaine, across to Valik and the men and women she was unfamiliar with. This would be... Interesting, to say the least. So many faces unknown to her, she could not say which way the table would turn. No word was uttered, no sound made, she merely stood there, behind the Emperor and his men, cloaked in the shadows that were as much her brethren and kin' as those back home on Umbara.

@Valik @Circe Savan @Samanthe Quiwl @Krag @Garoth Do'Urden @[member="Tyrin Ardik"] @[member="Kaine Zambrano"] @[member="Anaya Fen"] @[member="Mikhail Shorn"]
 

Judas of Vahl

Beyond Broken
Character
@[member="Kaine Zambrano"]
The Lord Admiral just had to chuckle at the man's final statement. "Grant me a warrior's death? I assume you'll be the one on the pyre, my friend." Of course Dranok would be paired with one of the Empire's heavy hitters. He was here mainly for moral support, maybe even hand off snacks to the little kiddies once they were done playing Emperor and Rebel. It was quite amusing to see. Granted, Dranok arrived here with the insurrectionists, but his mind would only lean towards whatever graced him with power and favor. And of course, he had to follow up. "It's not about the destination, but the journey."

Needless to say, his destination was elsewhere. Dranok didn't even care who got the throne, though if he snagged it, then that'd be okay with him. The Lord Admiral's eyes shimmered with mirth as he shifted his weight, beginning his usual parade-ground tendency to pace back and forth before his legions. He would not fight, only if it was the logical thing to do. Hopefully these pitiful defenders had enough common sense not to just charge right in.
 
Character
Light steps could be heard from the back of the crowd as Kiara made her late appearance. She wasn't dressed in her normal armor instead she came in a white robing version of her Rancor Armor Mark 2. It would starkly contrast with the general theme of today, but by the end of the blood shed her robes would surely be another color. It was symbolic in a way for her as she came to terms with the things in her life; she no longer ran from her weaknesses the constant torture broke her out of that messy habit. Their no longer was compassion; no longer would she allow trivial emotions to hold her back and through that revelation did she find a certain sense of calmness.

"So things have not changed in my absence. We still fighting amongst each other while our very enemies prosper! We kill ourselves in hopes for greater power while we only weaken ourselves for our enemies! Conflict is what makes a Sith I know! But stupidity does not have the makings of a Sith! Tyrin you would die for that throne wouldn't you? Why so when your gone nobody remembers you or worse they tarnish your memory! Stand down and live another day!" During the latter part of her impromptu speech her eyes laid on Tyrin, both her sabers gripped between her fingers as her vision switched to those who stood against @[member="Mikhail Shorn"] . Oh they will die today is what the dark side whispered to her, she saw the fool who leaped up to be with Tyrin and Kaine and laughed to herself. Why do the weak always attempt to be more than they are she wondered.

She took two steps her eyes lying on @[member="Marcus Faust"] for a moment. "Your so quick to boast about what another man can do. Tyrin I guess the rumors between you two are true." She said allowing herself to laugh for a moment before growing almost coldly serious. She looked up at Marcus Faust and called out to him "You ready to die or do you want to talk for a couple more minutes?" She smiled vindictively before walking towards the man.
 

Olom Grihk

Sith Munchkin
Character
Olom sighed and nodded. "Tedious pageantry. Imagine how efficient it would be if we could, I don't know, act like adults for two minutes. Still," he said to Shinju, "I have a duty. if you wish to simply watch the fireworks, so be it. These nuisances, however..." he mused slowly steeping towards the emperor. "I'm going to ask this once. Killing you is a waste of good talent. Anyone surrenders now, or just walks away, they get a chance to live," he focused the force through his words, trying to push doubt in the room, focusing on darkness. He was the weakest combatant of them all, but he was a talker. He turned, locking eyes with one woman, riding a droid. Her heart rate was artifically accelerated, he could see it. The joys of Columi eyes, that could see in more spectra than most machines, much less organics. He glared at her and her robot. Some sort of drug, most likely. Fascinating.

"Let the kings and heroes sortout this stupidity. No sense in having Krag burning you. Don't you have better things to do than participate in this idiotic display? You're smarter than this," he said, approaching Samanthe, lightsaber still at his waist. He briefly focused a mental command, letting something hum in the background. His repulsorlift. After all, it couldn't hurt to have an escape plan, or a battering ram. Thought-activated technology. Practically as common as scooters back home. "You're better than this imbecilic debacle. Prove it," he said, still stoic as ever.

He glared at her, eyes flickering red. "Krag has chosen to dance with lady Anaya. Either you can leave them be, or as a apprentice of the house of Zambrano, I will have to stop your participation in this little game," he said calmly, still sounding bored and disinterested. The chain of command was clear here. Kaine wanted to protect the emperor, Tricia served Kaine, Olom served Tricia. So, today, protect the Emperor. Technically, he was protecting Krag, or at least preventing him fro having to engage two opponents at once. Regardless, he was simply stalling for time and sowing disloyalty in the ranks. He was the weakest here by far. Still, a lizard-monkey can move where a rancor is caged.

@Samanthe Quiwl
 
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