A Grandmaster and Dark Lord Drink Tea

[Dmitri]

Three days ago, Geist Weiss had thought the Plague of Dis would be the worst matter he'd have to deal with. After destroying the Planet of Dis and ending the Phirisan disease outbreak, he had managed to capture a Jedi Master by the name of Larik Novan. Novan had managed to slay Sith Lord Scyphodeeiruus, but had fallen victim to Geist's mental supremacy. Novan had been neutralized. Proud of his prize, he had left the ruins of Dis and Erinyes to return home. However, there he learned a terrible truth.

Darth Vereor was gone.

Reports even now were coming in. Two days ago while Darth Vereor had been visiting the immaculate prison Reckoning to deal with the insurgent Nathaneau Bastele, Reckoning had come under attack. Darth Vereor had been captured, frozen in carbonite. Hundreds of prisoners had escaped. Reports were conflicting on whether Warden Audroti had survived. Sending agents, he gave them a single order: "Clean up this mess." If Audroti had survived, Geist planned to have Audroti answer for his failures, the Sith Master would be summoned to Anaxes once the immediate problems at Reckoning were resolved, granting he still lived. With the death that swarmed Reckoning, he could not pinpoint Audroti's presence.

Geist Weiss, otherwise known as Darth Somnus, knew he had to act immediately. Calling a press conference, he declared himself the new Dark Lord of the Sith in Darth Vereor's absence. Tempting as it was to claim only the seat of regent, he knew he had to proclaim full authority to prevent a few members of the Dark Council from attempting to usurp the title. Andraste was empress, one feared as immortal. As such, Dark Lord was the coveted as the highest position possible in the New Sith Imperium, at least by a Sith.

Within two days, Darth Somnus had accomplished much in solidifying his power. A couple Dark Councilors were stirring things up, but he felt confidant they could be dealt with, one way or another. General Sev, after all, had been conveniently stationed at Anaxes for a conference that was lasting a week, to cover new military strategies. In reality he was the excuse to have half of Battlegroup Invincible at Anaxes to deal with the Dark Council should something arise.

Geist personally would have preferred to stay on Anaxes to deal with the Dark Council himself, but he had other priorities. Larik Novan was still in his custody. He had Novan stewing in the sub-levels of the Phantom Palace. Now the Dark Lord had an opportunity to visit the Phantom Palace himself. Destroying the Planet of Dis had taken a toll on the Dark Lord. He had managed to convey the appearance of full strength to the Dark Council and the Sith Order, but he required a couple days to fully recuperate, and there was no better place to do so for Geist than the Phantom Palace.

The Phantom Palace was the more common name for the behemoth castle on Zigoola. Constructed over the course of six years, it was Geist's place to relax and replenish his power. The hallucination-inducing planet made the construction of Zigoola's defenses much easier. Filled with over a thousand Force crystals that served as part of the architecture, the Phantom Palace was filled with Geist's power. Those who entered would face illusions forged from their memories. If one knew how to navigate the proper channels in the Force, those illusions would share peaceful memories or fail to work. However, intruders would be faced with the demons of their past.

Many of the guards on Zigoola, especially the Phantom Palace, were Covallons. Covallons looked like Yali, but were actually sentient beings. They fed into the deceptions of the sanctuary by prowling around, as if beasts roaming their hunting grounds. There were a few other defenses, but not as heavily fortified as other abodes of the Sith. After all, it was simply Geist's sanctuary, not a normal temple. It hosted shields and ground-to-air weaponry, but envied the defenses of military bases. However, as Geist's ship Poltergeist landed, Geist considered having the defenses upgraded.

Darth Somnus's signatory illusion had been shed the moment his ship broke into the atmosphere. He found little point in wearing them as it allowed him to focus on restoring his reserves. The Dark Nexus called Zigoola would aid in his objective of restoring himself to normal standards. However, even then he doubted he would be the same again. To feed the power necessary to destroy Dis, it had been necessary to drink on the darkness propagated by the Phirisan disease. The black stain would forever mark his soul. But he was determined to not let it stain his mind.

A Covallon was at the foot of the ramp went Geist disembarked. The creature telepathically reported that Larik Novan was still in the sub-levels, being shown illusions to trap his mind. However, his will had yet to break yet. Geist pondered on this. "Let him remain there for one more day. The Phantom Palace will sustain him for now." That was a feature Geist was most proud of. The Force was strong on Zigoola. The Phantom Palace was a filter, that injected the Force into the Palace's occupants. The Force could keep occupants alive despite lack of food or water. However, when it came time to meet with Larik face-to-face, Geist had decided he would take away those pleasantries. A starving man was an angry man, but one easily tempted by food's requiem.

Geist and Covallon were walking into the Phantom Palace, discussing how Darth Vereor's absence would affect the Phantom Palace and Project SALIGIA when the Sith Lord suddenly cut him off with a hand gesture. "I sense something." A powerful presence was approaching. A beacon of in the Force. The presence was too muddied to distinguish between Ashla and Bogan, especially with the swarming Bogan auras steaming from Zigoola. However, it was obvious this newcomer was much stronger than Larik Novan.

"Could this be a rescuer?" The Covallon inquired.

Geist sought knowledge from the Force, but was enlightened by no epiphany. "I don't think so. Still, I would like to know what they seek." Eris had reported about encountering Lecchamemnon. She was going to send him to Bastion to meet with Geist, but it appeared Lecchamemnon had sensed Geist was no longer on an Imperial fortress world. He may have tracked the Dark Lord all the way to Zigoola. "Let him land. Do not bar him entry." A chuckle escaped Geist's lips as he walked towards the throne room to await his visitor. "If he wants into the devil's domain, let us grant his desire. The illusions will enlighten his heart."

 

[Denzein]

Zigoola.

For millennia the planet hung in the void of space, forgotten, shunned by all. The Sith found it and hid it from their ancient foe, enshrouded as it was in dark side energy, a nexus in the force. It became a retreat, sanctuary for dark lords throughout the ages that no Jedi had even discovered the existence of, let alone been to. It was one of the few secrets the Sith truly kept to themselves, a whole world in their thrall that the rest of the Galaxy considered a myth. It was perfect.

It was by accident that this world was uncovered by the light at all - Back in the ancient days of the Clone Wars it was stumbled upon by a Jedi, and so was secret no more. The Sith abandoned their little sanctuary, and the planet fell into irrelevancy. It was forgotten again by a Galaxy that very rarely learns from its mistakes. Only the Sith retained knowledge of Zigoola, as it was in the old days.

This made it the perfect lair for an aspiring Sith Lord, especially in this time of relative Galactic peace. No-one but Sith knew the planet was even there, the only threat therefore were other Sith and they could be watched. Geist Weiss had chosen his fastness well, almost perfect seclusion.

Almost.

A ship blinked out of hyperspace just beyond the atmosphere and began its descent. It was old, hailing from a bygone age, an ancient Barloz class light Freighter. It moved with unnatural speed and grace - clearly it was internally modified and powerful but its exterior had apparently been left to rot. It was a strange mirror of its sole occupant.

The annals of the Sith were state secrets of the highest order. Their legends and myths were all based on fact, their history irrevocably intertwined with their present. Having outsiders know their stories, therefore, was a deadly threat. Fortunately there were few ways of learning these secrets, they were known to only a handful outside the ancient Sith Order itself, and of these few almost all of them were aligned with the Empire. They were almost kept completely contained.

Almost.

The only other power ever to take a real interest in the ancient affairs of the Sith were their hated foe, the Jedi. Even then without supplementing their archived knowledge with forbidden Sith Lore they knew comparatively little, and that was before the Jedi had their temples burned and their libraries sacked. It would have taken a mind of steel and a resolve of granite to learn all the Sith had to offer, and almost no Jedi had ever tried. The level of clearance necessary was extremely exclusive, their legends available only to a select few. Of that tiny number for centuries there had been nobody willing to truly plumb the depths of Sith Lore, no-one wished for such foul secrets.

Then about a century ago a man was born. He left the slums of his home in the pursuit of something greater, and was taken in by the Jedi. He became powerful, every challenge set before him accomplished in short order. They made him a Knight, then a Master, then a Councillor. They looked to him in their hour of need, war descending upon the Galaxy for the thousandth time, and they made him their leader.

It was a mistake, for though he was one of them they never did truly know him. The man abandoned the Jedi, leaving them to die at the hands of the Sith. Where he went after? There are only stories - Legend and myth based upon the fact of the man's life. Just as with the Sith, the true power of the man is learned not through the present, but through the past.

Of all the great members of the Jedi throughout history, not one has ever trawled the toxic sludge that makes up the tales of the Sith so completely as that man. Their secrets he discovered, laying bare the mysteries of the Dark Side in pursuit of his own ends. He separated truth from lie, embellishment from extrapolation. He studied their customs, their laws and their philosophies. He took their power as his own.

The man was Lecchamemnon of Necropolis, quite possibly the most dangerous Jedi to ever have lived. His was the knowledge of the Sith. His was the knowledge of Zigoola.

His target was obvious - even on a world as mired in the Dark Side as this one there was an obvious focal point that he homed in on, making a bee line for a vast construct that radiated force energy. Putting the ship down about a kilometre out he set off on foot, making his way towards his quarry.

The Sith back on Epsilon Station was wrong: Bastion would only lead to bloodshed, not to the confrontation he needed. It had been a simple matter to devise an alternate destination. A whole world had recently gone silent, only one shining beacon of force energy escaping the tidal wave of death. He'd followed it, and once its intent had been discerned he made his move. Bastion was a lie, Zigoola was truth.

It was on this world of darkness that Lecchamemnon would find Geist Weiss - one of the greatest Dark Lords ever known. It was here that he would make his opening gambit.

Walking across the threshold of the palace's grounds, he noticed several things. The powers of this world were known to him: It was recorded as having hallucinogenic effects on those that traveled here, the dark side connection being so strong as to partially or even fully overwhelm the senses. This palace seemed to amplify that power somehow, though he could not guess as to how. The possibility of himself being totally overcome was unlikely, he surmised - Lecchamemnon was consumately trained in the art of telepathic defence after all, but he wasn't so arrogant as to assume that everything he saw within would be true. Briefly he wondered what the Dark Side might show him in this place.

There were creatures in the grounds that he felt were more than met the eye, but they did not impede him. Lecchamemnon paid them little mind, just as he thought little of the brief flickers of light force energy from somewhere beneath the ground - whatever the reason he was certain it did not concern him.

He stepped through the open door into a grand hallway shrouded in half-light. The air was cool, and the palace apparently deserted. He lowered his hood, speaking a single name.

"Weiss."

 

[Dmitri]

Lecchamemnon's presence in the Force spun the tale of his landing and voyage to the Phantom Palace. Entering its sacred halls, the Necropolis denizen proceeded inside, declaring one word.

Weiss.

Darth Somnus smirked in amusement. Lecchamemnon's objective was clear. However, Geist was in no obligation to comply. Instead, he decided to see if the past would reveal the true reason for Lecchamemnon's visit. Unleashing his aura into the Phantom Palace, the nexus vitalized. The Bogan energies spun across the Phantom Palace, seeking its prey. Finally it narrowed in on the only prey it could find: Lecchamemnon. The tsunami of the Force crashed into Lecchamemnon, delving into his memories and making him relive his past.

 

[Denzein]

As if on cue the force stirred around him as he uttered the dark lord's true name, swirling from an ominous fog into a tangible current - a tide that rushed towards Lecchamemnon. He let it approach, deciding it would only serve to weaken him should he expend the vast effort necessary to totally deflect such an aura. Instead of forming a barrier with which to defend himself, he opted for refraction: He supplemented the energy with perfectly directed slivers of his own, working with it and manipulating it as opposed to opposing it head on. The effect was most curious; the phantom palace's power of forcing one to relive ones past was present, for he'd done nothing to oppose it. What Lecchamemnon had succeeded in doing was to ensure the hallucinations were not complete. By twisting the palace's own threads of fantasy through eachother, essentially using the palace against itself, he managed to cause natural gaps to appear. His senses were not impaired, he could still see the hallway he was in and indeed he was aware of all his immediate surroundings.

The difference was as far as he was concerned they were no longer on Zigoola. He should have known there was only one place the force would take Lecchamemnon. There was the faint smell of grit in the air, mixed with the original exotic aroma of the palace itself.

Lecchamemnon was a man comprised of errors. He'd deceived and abandoned the only people to ever accept him on multiple accounts, betrayed the code he used to live by, forsaken his honour, his integrity, his very soul. He was all that and more, yet something gnawing at the back of his skull told him the force wouldn't show him Tython, or Coruscant, or Onderon.

It would show him Necropolis. Dahrtag. The Nightmare World.

It was home. Over the decades he'd been back many times, for good or ill depended on whatever he was chasing at the time. He'd committed many sins there, it was the lone constant in Lecchamemnons history. He wondered what the force wanted to show him there now. Walking further into the phantom palace, following the force towards the nexus point of dark energy that he assumed to be the throne room, he took in all he could. With his ability to defend himself relatively intact he could take this opportunity to step into whatever the force willed him to see. He was quietly fascinated by this place, committing every tiny detail to memory. Perhaps the most important Jedi ideal was trust in the force, and he intended to take note of what it wanted to say.

He came to a set of doors and pushed them aside, entering a vast chamber. On the other side there was a throne, and on that throne was a man. What might appear strange to Weiss was that Lecchamemnon smiled when he looked his way - he could see the man quite clearly. He approached, eyes fixed on the dark lord before him. If this was to get violent with him hallucinating half the world around him, he needed to keep focused on that one thing, that beacon of darkness.

He didn't want it to come to violence. This was not the ideal way in which to fight a Sith Lord, and he hoped that would be as evident to Weiss as it was to him. He clearly wasn't here for blood.

"The hospitality of your hall leaves something to be desired, Weiss."

His voice was bold, and echoed through the cavernous room. It was clear the fact he was on a force trip had left him decidedly unphased. He walked past what looked like an old hospital bed with a withered old sephi on it, but he paid it no mind: Who knew what mad experiments Weiss was conducting here. He stopped at the foot of the throne, staring up at the dark lord. He looked Weiss right in the eye, there was not a hint of doubt or uncertainty as one might expect when dealing with an illusionist in a house of illusions. Beneath the surface however, Lecchamemnon was alert, almost on edge. He was ready to respond to any change in situation, leaving nothing in the hall unnoticed. He suspected a trap, or a trick, or both. Playing the bold certain of purpose Jedi was the easiest way of drawing it out, if there was one.

"I come to talk, not fight in your house of parlour tricks."

As he waited for a reply he felt the force tug at him for just a second, from where the old Delhi lay on the bed. He ignored it, focusing on what he hoped was the real Geist Weiss in front of him. It was nothing, surely?

 

[Dmitri]

The memory instigated piqued Geist's curiosity. The Phantom Palace struck at one's painful memories. How did that play a role in Lecchamemnon's life? Was that truly the worst sin that dragged the man's heart. If so, Geist was even more proud that Lecchamemnon. He could not show Lecchamemnon the damage he inflicted on a young boy. A young boy who grew up to be the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"Intruders aren't covered in the rules of hospitality," quipped Geist's voice. The former Grandmaster's claim he sought dialogue rather than violence was amusing in Geist's opinion. It was during Lecchamemnon's tenure as Grandmaster that the Jedi declared war on the Sith on empty accusations - accusations that were actually true, but never proven. Ayisha Remy had seen to that.

A doppelganger materialized in the chamber the Necropolis denizen stood. The Dark Lord felt confident in having a home field advantage, but caution was anyone's best friend. Too many Dark Lords perished by estranging caution. The doppelganger shimmered in the light, the hollowness of the projection evident.

"You, come to talk?" Geist mocked. "I believe I've heard that claim from you before. It got many people killed, including some of your Jedi." The scenery morphed into the burning remains of the Sage Halls, mirroring the bombing of the Coruscanti Jedi Temple by luck Lecchamemnon avoid. The Sith Lord wasn't sure whose memories had spawned that picture, himself or Lecchamemnon. "How are your Jedi by the way? I noticed you don't have their stench among you anymore." Geist reveled in courtesy, but Lecchamemnon's presence was making it hard to abide by that obligation.