[ALL SITH, IMPERIALS AND ALLIES] Inauguration

[MasterTyvokka]

Ryak had walked up the steps into the large ceromonial room that the new Empress was going to be crowned in. This development had thrown a hydrospanner into his planning. Ryak had recently learned that the Emperor was not trained in the Force and thus with proper preparation could likely be overthrown by some with enough power and careful planning. It seemed as if the former Empress Andraste had beaten Ryak to it and thus resumed her roll as leader of the Imperium and the Sith. Before he had come near the capital however Ryak had stored his plans deep within the recesses of his mind. So deep that in order for another to steal them they would have to kill him in the process. Ryak kept them stored for later, when the time was right.

Ryak entered the hall not long before the Empress gave her speech. He wore his full armor and a dark auroa surrounded him, and although not strong as that of many of those around him it was still quite noticable. It seemed as if the more sorcery he learned the darker and stronger this auroa got. Ryak's fears, anger, hate, and passion seemed to feed this auroa and in turn he fed off it. Ryak agreed with all of the new Empresses speech, it seemed as if much of the Imperium had become stagnant, complacent, and weak. Ryak watched from under a shadowed column as the Empress finished her speech and trouble seemed to already begin. He wondered how so many utterly crazy Sith were members of the order. However given for the Sith were about weeding out the weak and the rise of the strong it was possible for one totally insane to rise to such a level of power.

Ryak took special note of Alceaus's crowning of the Empress. It almost made him smile. He wondered whether or not the Empress herself or even Alceaus had realized the possible implications of allowing this to happen. For the most part Alceaus had just implied to everyone present and the Empress that the Cult of Typhojem has the power not only to give the crown but maybe take it away in the future. To Ryak this seemed to imply that although the Empress was the leader of the Imperium and had ultimate power that the Cult had power even over her. If this was an intentional move on Aleaus's part it was brilliant. For the Empress allowing it to happen, Ryak thought it was foolish and was surprised given all he had heard of the Empress.

As the revelry continued Ryak noticed a being perched high in the rafters above the crowd. It was his apprentice Draven...'it was like the young sentient to be in a place like that Ryak thought'. Ryak then spotted Drenn. He had interacted with the master long enough to be able to recognize him green misted armor and all. Ryak made his way over to the masked togruta and upon arriving greeted him. "Its been sometime," Ryak said his voice lower and more powerful, but no less clear than the first time they had met on Korriban.

 

[Radiwalker]

"Indeed it has." The togruta nodded to the newly arrived crusader. "I find interest in the fact that you located me. Nobody else managed to spot me, or at least has not made the fact that he has known, thus far. You have good eyes, or perhaps good senses." A short pause followed. "This is a glorious day and I expect we shall soon have many more of these to celebrate. Not only because of the empress's experience and capability, but also because her very presence is inspiring to the sith. Just listen to the crowd." He took a moment to actually listen to the loudly cheering imperials. "Blissful, isn't it?"

 

[Nightmare Moon]

The crowning was in many ways a catch 22. By accepting the blessing of the Church the Empress at once legitimised her reign under the eyes of the immortal gods and gained the sanction of both the church and the beings it represented cementing both her power and in turn that of the Clergy and gaining the loyalty of it's followers in the imperium. However if she was to refuse then she would deny her divine right as well as causing animosity and divided loyalty amongst her very subjects.
Alceaus felt no malice towards the empress - rather he agreed with her speech and would if she desired assist her in achieving all her goals - this was simply the way that the game was played.

Returning back to the wings Alceaus spoke in a low tone to his disciple Kyra.

"Watch Ryak - from his gaze alone he understands what transpires in the room - both a practitioner of the great art (Sorcery) and I am sure soon to a practitioner of the great game (Politics) . You could do far worse than to follow his example. The Togruta standing beside him is called Drenn. He aside from Abraxas and Silen is one of the most powerful Arcanist's in the empire. He often keeps his own counsel and I believe he is wiser for it."

 

[Jake]

Casimir had been watching for some time now. He had woken up to a chill that ran down his spine and now he felt cold, truly cold, a cold that settled on his bones and might turn his heart to stone if not for the furnace that burned in his core: a star gone nova, a heat beyond description at war with his dread as he watched the scene play out from two steps deeper inside his mind, like a kid playing a hologame. Everything felt real but was not, a second class reality that seemed like it had to end at any time.

Andraste, girl with the red flower. When he had known her she had been strong: stronger than he had been, he admitted now under the harsh light of shame which burned away his pride like fat hiding the sinewy truth he so struggled to swallow. Andraste, the spider who in her web had caught Gabriel and Cordatus and Exodeus and made a slave of Varek and who knows how many others. Andraste, who like a black hole of destiny had nearly caught him in her event horizon and pulled him down alongside all those other sinking ships to drown him in the sea of her sorrowful existence. Andraste, Queen of the Sith.

All of that was a pretty way of dressing up the word that immediately crossed his mind as she strode calmly into view: Bitch.

Yet at an objective level he knew the truth. Felucia had stolen months of his life and then... something else, something he had not yet come to terms with, had seared seven years of his memory into a scorched blur from which no coroner or psychologist could excise any detail. It was not his fault that she had risen so high and he had been thrust down, scrabbling at the edge of the pit just to hold on to his life. He understood that but his arrogance had taken hold long ago, before he had ever left Aridus. Now it sustained him. At some level it and his vanity fueled the hunger that had driven him to devour Gabriel's sister and others too... the hunger that had inspired Lord Zash's vision.

"You will be the one to supplant him as the most feared Sith."

He stood beside her, as always, sharp and imposing in that armor, less a man than a symbol. Varek Rayth. He was not the Empress' champion but her torch, with which she cleared away the darkness that covered her path. He wondered if beneath that monstrous veneer she was, at some level, the girl he had met in the courtyard of the temple on Korriban. So many hands had reached down to lift her up and exalt her... and he had slid down, down, further and further, until there were no hands that could reach him at all. The memory of it made him shudder, fanned the flames of his heart.

Yet something overshadowed that anger. There would be years to achieve penance, years to make Zash's vision a reality, but only now could he right this terrible wrong before its roots could expand to compromise the foundation of the Imperium. Only through action. A new sycophant had attached himself to Andraste like a bloated leech, suckling and suckling that sweet Skywalker blood. Anyone present could see what that crown meant as it settled on her skull, could see the play at power, an old man trying to breathe life not only into his own skeletal half-life but into the dead faith he followed. Typhojem's days were done and even gods had to die sometimes, whether they disintegrated or drowned or burned alongside their temples, and just like a sorcerer could conjure up the spirits of the deceased, so too could they conjure up pale memories of a god's power... but memories and nothing more.

To Casimir that was all Alcaeus had done with his warped cult. To Casimir, Alcaeus would never be more than the man far past his prime who had accosted him in the temple library one night in a bout of zealous frenzy, and who the young Aridusian had thwarted even then.

That circlet was poison to the very nature of the Sith, an abomination worse than any of the heretics Alcaeus had vowed to destroy to appease his god, who existed now only in grimoires that had been left to moulder for centuries.

Yes. Casimir had been watching in the shadow behind the throne, but now he strode out into plain view, eyes like glacial crevasses, cold and distant as Hoth. He wore an old set of armor from his days on Aridus that clinked slightly with every movement as he circled around to the front of the throne.

"A true Empress of the Sith shall rule through power and passion instead of symbols and wealth. Her strength shall be her own, not that borrowed from a god lost to song and legend except in the stories told by an old man with an older book." Without gesturing, he exercised his own strength in the Force, lifting the black circlet from Andraste's brow with telekinesis. He allowed it to levitate higher and higher until it would be visible to all those gathered and raised one hand, clenching it into a fist. The priceless varium hesitated for a moment, trembling in the air as if in defiance to the pressure that crushed it, before exploding into countless fragments.

Casimir clapped that fist to his chest and dropped to one knee. "All hail the Empress, she whose chains have been broken."

 

[Orphen]

NO!

Silen thought, both exercising her own power, as the air around the circlet began to be addled, controlled by the air of the force, her mind reached out like venomous tendrils to attach to her mind. Working to snap her connection to the force in a painful, powerful breach in the force, centered on Casamir. Pain enough to drop the being to his knees. She would break his power with all her might, focus sharper than any blade. As Silen would speak into the beings very mind with anger and spite. As a shadow fell from the sky.

Though I follow no god, know that this is a pledge of loyalty to the sanctity of knowledge. You SHALL NOT interfere you vile wretch of a being. So stay silent, allow events to play out, and hold your thoughts.

The being could not possibly resist the breach entirely by the powerful force user, and still hope to commit to the telekinesis, he would need to focus all of his effort into defense just to resist it for a couple of moments. Though by no means able to follow through with his intentions. Norsica, the shark girl standing there silent, but present, watching and ready to act, moving closer if need be. And watchful. Her anger welled up within her so quickly it was like an inferno, her cheeks beginning to split into her extended maw.

 

[Fyston]

One of the negative aspects of being 9 feet tall was that they never made chairs for you. Or anything, really. Doorways were too small, access hatches were too small and, in general, everything was too small. After handing over his weapons, which was attended to by people who needed step-ladders, 16 was escorted in the building where the ceremony was to be carried out. It wasn't apparent who would be named the new ruler, only that there would be a new Emperor or Empress. Others may have known more, but considering 16 had few visitors in his isolated section of Korriban he had heard little regarding specifics.

And so he was, on the 2nd floor of the elegant building, his blank face overlooking the crowd below. Like some form of perverse spider, he reached out and climbed out from the balcony. It wasn't difficult to reach handholds due to the reach of his tentacles, and he had a perfect place to view the ceremony. Of course, everyone could see him, but he didn't really care. He wasn't harming anyone and, to him, such a position was the same as standing, albeit a story above everyone else. Besides, he liked being able to watch everything that happened below. He was curious to see who would start something, as something was always started at these events.

He lost interest in the crowd when he noticed that a woman had begun speaking, her words confident and strong. If her words were true, and 16 doubted someone would go through that much trouble for some facade, 16 was sure that her reign would be long and prosperous. In some strange way that he couldn't quite pinpoint, she reminded him of himself. She wasn't 9 feet tall with 6 tentacles coming out of her back, but rather her demeanor. Maybe, in some small portion, it was the fact that she, like himself, had known the life of a Sith since she was born. Granted he was created in a lab, but the principle was the same.

Here we go, he thought with a mix of boredom and excitement. Weapons had been drawn and people had moved and it was clear to all that something had happened. It was interesting to 16 to watch them play like rats in a cage, and who was he to deny himself a fun time?

With his arms and legs hanging lifeless from his body, which stayed motionless due to his 6 appendages keeping him in place, 16 manipulated the Force like he had been doing since he was but a boy, opening a telepathic link with those around him. Hail Empress Andraste, Long Live the Empire.

 

[Sreeya]

“Enough.”

It had begun from Bhalr’s snide comment and had escalated from there. Andraste had remained silent, patiently surveying those around her. She gazed at Corden afterwards, a sliver of curiosity in her eyes before she looked away, not offering any words just yet. Her focus was stolen from Varek by the bearded man, the self proclaimed Archbishop, who stepped up and closed the distance between them. Andraste stayed still, observing as he raised a circlet over head. She had been briefed on the cult he led, the members that focused on the art of sorcery, something Andraste had been proficient in from a young age.

Her features were devoid of emotion, neither acknowledging the man nor outwardly insulting him. The golden orbs flickered just a bit at the faintest tendrils of Force energy that crept up her spine like the tips of cold fingers. The woman tilted her head to look, her eyes gazing upon a face she never expected to see again. Casimir. A faded memory flashed through her mind, of two young acolytes walking the halls of the Korriban temple. Two acolytes full of wonder, full of thirst for power.

As he knelt before her, a grin slowly began to creep upon her face. It was a sick grin, a twisted grin that was a reflection of the beast she had become. There was no shred of the old Andraste left within her. At that very moment, the same realization would dawn upon him. This was a full culmination of the traces of power he had sensed from her all those years ago. This was precise control of the terror, taming of the fire that whirled within her. Andraste’s eyes rose from him and gazed once again at those before her. Her voice boomed above the cheering and chanting.

“I do not stand here for the sake of pleasing you. I do not stand here for the sake of ceremony. I stand here to unite us as one. All under one banner.”

As she spoke, she gazed from Corden to Alceaus to Casimir to Silen and Norsica.

“Divided we fail. I will not fall into the petty habits of our ancestors and let personal gains eclipse a united goal. Our successes are established atop strong roots..roots formed by an effective, methodical ecosystem of alliances. This is the time to set petty squabbles aside.”

Andraste slowly stepped down from the platform, walking through the sea of Imperials and Sith. She looked to each acolyte, each soldier, each Darth.

“I do not come here to impress you and hope you will like me. I will let actions speak for me. You will follow me of your own accord, of your own founded respect or fear. I do not come here to speak volumes of my strength. You will be the judge of that. I do not come here to profess my rights to the throne, but I welcome anyone to challenge it if they so wish.”

Andraste continued walking through the crowd, most of them stepping aside to clear a path.

“I come here so you know who I am. So you know who is taking up the reins. So you know who will be guiding the Empire and its allies to victory. If any of you should need me, seek me out. For now.. I go to wage war.”

With that, she strode forth and disappeared out of the hall, leaving the entire group behind her. The chilling aura emanating from her trailed behind her, a haunting darkness always following at her heels.

OoC: No kill rule lifted cuz I'm not a part of the thread anymore. Feel free to leave or stay.

 

[Twisted Reality]

Drakus watched as it seemed inevitable for all hell the break loose before the empress stopped it. Listening to her, say pretty much what he tried to drill into every acolyte that had come into to him for lightsaber training. What history showed, and the one thing he felt was the source of sith power in the galaxy. When Andraste took her leave of the hall, Drakus would follow suit. Turning his apprentice he looked at the pureblood. "Rina, we're going." He turned to make his way through the crowed, that feeling in his gut was starting again.

It was about it hit the fan, and he knew it was something he didn't want to get caught in the middle of. Not out of cowardice, but a tactical mind. He was outmatched by many in sheer power, and he knew if it did break into a fight. It was one he could not win, and he wasn't about to let his pride or his ego get in the way of reason. "I have a bad feeling about this." He mumbled to himself, glancing up at 16 as he passed under him. Opening a connection in the force directly into the Spawns mind. 'Glad to see you made it, but i'd clear out of i were you.' Was all he said through Telepathy as he made his way out of the hall.

That many sith in one place, and a cult trying so hard to be recognized there were many that didn't share there ideals of the 'religion' Drakus was one of them, the old gods were dead and there was no point in trying to bring them back. Using that umbrella to gain power instead of one's self was short cut and nothing more. It wasn't as satisfying as doing it all on your own. At least that was the way Drakus put it. He relied on his own passion and strength to achieve victory, the way a true sith should.

 

[MasterTyvokka]

Ryak had picked Drenn out of the crowd because of the green mist that emanated from his armor. Although it was subtle and and barely visible he had seen it on a couple of occasion and for what evey reason it stood out to him. Blissful? Ryak was not sure he would call it blissful. Frankly he was not sure exactly what to call it. Yes it was great that the Sith now had a strong leader however Ryak, not having experienced Andraste's rule before, was still skeptical. "I am not sure if I would call it blissful and before I make a judgement on Andraste I will need to see for myself. Although it does seem promising." Ryak finished and watched as things got interesting.

Ryak watched as things seemed to heat up and a Sith came from behind the throne and attempted destroy the crown that Alceaus had placed on the Empresses head. He also watched as Silen interfered through the use of her force phantom. However before things got out of control the Empress put a stop to things. After her second speech and her chilling exit, she seemed more impressive to Ryak. As soon as the Empress left Ryak noticed a couple of other leave as well. Given the dynamics in the room it was probably not a bad idea to leave however Ryak wanted to stay to try and get a feel for some of the personalities he might have to deal with. Although he made sure to have an exit strategy should things get bad. "So how bad do you think before someone get killed?" Ryak said turning to Drenn.

 

[TAC]

The inauguration was short, sweet, and to the point. The Barabel Rareth, who no longer had to struggle to understand the basic the new Empress spoke, nodded at her words. He would not salute and hail her with words or politics, but would do so on the battle field. He assumed it would be enough. Rising from his haunches, the Sith Acolyte strode across the room of Sith to Alceaus and gave his teacher a curt nod, joining the conversation he had his apprentice were having.

He was well aquainted with both of them.

 

[Mars]

The cult had overstepped its bounds. Those standing in proximity to Varek would notice a sharp increase in temperature with each step the dejected Typhojem monk took towards Andraste. The Force link between brother and sister faded as Varek allowed it to seal, not wishing to suck energy from his sister while acting in her defense. No sooner was the circlet placed, was it lifted, and shortly following the display out came Casimir Raschael. His words gave form to Varek's thoughts and revealed to the crowd the source of Varek's growing rage.

Cas lifted the circlet high and attempted to crush it but was engaged by another in the crowd. The Shard acted swiftly to defend the white-haired Crusader from any mental or metaphysical assault, as well as heavily augmenting his own Force reserves. The young one would need the Shard's aid more so than Varek in the fight that was about to begin. The Empress' exit signed the cultist's death warrant.

There would be blood.

Alcaeus would be the target of Varek's assault. The air around him would go from normal to blazing in nearly an instant, such was Vires' mastery of Pyrokinesis, a ball of all-consuming otherworldly flame some three-meters in radius would explode outward from the lead cultist's beard effectively destroying any near him unprepared to deal with such a sudden and powerful blow. Vires' was second only to Andraste in terms of raw Force potency and this was his strongest power. Such usage of it would likely tear the mad priest and his nearby lackeys into a fine black ash unless Typhojem himself was feeling particularly generous today.

 

[Mr. Teatime]

Arcturus had a very good danger sense about him, honed to supernatural levels. He had also trained with Varek for several years when he was Warmaster, and knew when he was about to begin a battle. And even before then, when Casimir had come up to the throne and pronounced the Cult a farce. That cane of his wasn't just for show, of course. The wood it alchemically formed although it appeared ordinary, but it was a farce. His sith sword was within, the handle replaced and made with a matching sheath to form a cane. The moment he felt the mental presences of Norsica and Silen, hiding elsewere, join and focus on Casimir, the sword was gone from it's heavy wooden sheath, blade in right hand and sheath in left, both charged with the Force to make them viable weapons against lightsaber wielders. Immediately, by instinct, a form of Battle Meditation known as 'Battle Trance' connected to Varek and his Shard and, by extent, to Casimir as well, guarding against mental attacks and boosting coordination and stamina.

The dark cloud that was his aura flared briefly with a spark of rarely seen anger, flashes of light forming in the cloud as the a storm built. His mental presence unleashed, the cloud became a swirling storm, heavy with the emotions of Fear and Despair. The sword in his right hand flared with power as it channeled energy from his amulet, glowing with a bright purple light. His sharp eyes focused clearly on Norsica in warning. The message was clear.

Arcturus would fight at Varek's side in an instant, and others would doubtless join him. The message was to stay out of it if you weren't already part of it.

The energy in Arcturus right sword could be focused into a beam capable of piercing clean through a man and his armor, and his mental power could be brought down upon a single target with enough weight to reduce them to a twitching, quivering heap on the ground. Combined with Varek, the man who taught him and a powerful force user and swordsman in his own right, they had never been stopped before.

The insult of a cultist Crusader stepping forth and claiming he had the AUTHORITY to crown the Empress, Andraste, a woman far his superior in rank, power, and status? The sheer audacity had made Arcturus frown with disapproval, sure Andraste had struck him down. Instead, she had ignored him and his foolish actions, she herself sure Varek and his fiery temper might do something instead. And so he had.

The Archbishop had, in no uncertain terms, challenged Andraste's power in the most insulting way possible. And in doing so, he had called down the wrath of Darths down upon him.

 

[Demiurge]

"I know you feel this, my sith'ari, even now, at your place on a throne of fire. Here they are... see them now."

No one ever saw him, the masked man of power standing above the clouds. They never felt him, never sensed him. As the masses gathered on the planet's surface, and even as the bride of the fallen Dark Lord took the helm of power, he was as a figment of the mind's eye, like water passing over the smoothness of stones - not a one of them could grasp. His mind, his thoughts and essence, were untouchable. And yet, was it only a figment? Perhaps, perhaps more. But high over the skies of Bastion's capital, a stood in the clouds of the highest spires, staring down as his astral presence gazed over the assembly. He was the heretic, the demon. The last of the Dark Templar.

"All things have proved to be as you have proved to be. The woman, the means, emerged again as foretold. The sacred secret eludes her until the appointed time."

The strong winds gusted about like torrents of aether, and the faintest of whispers trickled on the gale forces. The lost sun, one barely known to the surface of the planet, shined over his armor, dancing over the skin of a face that had scarcely felt the world around him. He stood in amongst the heavens, stood in the place of the gods, old and new, all the while as his golden-scarlet eyes pierced down through the thick gloom of clouds, and his invisible projection dwelt over the newly crowned empress. The bickering, the silent resentment, the anticipation and restlessness. It reminded him of the old days, when he was a secret prince in the reign of the false Sith, Judicar. The uncertainty, together mingled with the sureness of many.

"Even now, do you care nothing for the kingdom you once forged into grandeur? Care nothing for those who seek to bask in the vacuum of power your ascension has left? A void which can never be restored? Will you still not see them, my sith'ari?"

The Dark Templar closed his eyes, listening to the whispers on the wind as a slight grin etched its way onto his face. And then, without another word, Xesyr took the white mask in his hand, mounting it over his face.

"If that is what you wish, so shall it come to be, my sith'ari."

Even then, he continued to watch down through his astral projection, as the apparent ceremony rapidly descended into violence, between the true Sith, the cults and even non-Sith, culminating following the empress leaving the premises of her own coronation.

"I will await for the girl, my life for hers. And until then... let us see how far the empress shall carry the legacy."
​

 

[Nightmare Moon]

Five score and ten they were scribed. Crimson vitae spilled from virgin roots. Ambrosia, Soma , Azoth wrapped in the sacred geometry that gave birth to the fruits of gnosis. What then is power if not channelled? Effect sitting high above would always triumph over the brute meanderings of raw energy. Akasha is the master of pyr as the salamander does sit below the gods on high.

The troglodyte may bear the strength of Gog and Magog though tis for naught if it is not his own limited mind cannot fathom that the contest is not one of brute force. All around him the pillars of civilisation are laughing as he flails his club at spectres and quails at wraiths.

The brilliant tapestry of colours holds as it has done since time unfathomable.

And then a moment of clarity – catharsis amongst the anguish that is dealing with the existence of such banal wretches as Varek and his petty putrid desires.
Shangri La in all its radiance is before the demagogue.

“السماح للارتفاع المباركة وقتلوا ما يصل يلتهم أرواح أعدائي.
اسمحوا لي الظلام وتجاوز روح من الدب القديمة شكل بلادي."

Rebirth.

Cast from Gehenna bearing the sign of Boga upon it’s countenance it cast itself into the new temple of blood and bone.
Though once a son of Adas It no longer cared for such paltry bickering. Senses unknown swept through the chamber allowing no mysteries beneath it’s gaze. Hubris however was to be punished. Let the Neanderthal scribe write his oblivion and his trinket follow soon after.
And then in one languid motion as if time itself had been cast in irons the obsidian claw black upon black lifted channelling the powers of the abomination draped in flesh.

Burst’s of Erebus stream forth from the wicked digits. Soon it would fly upon silent wings tearing the mote that was Varek from this mortal coil.

Faith can move mountains. And arrogance may kill a Darth.

(EDIT: Well I guess thats it for me then. I am done with the sith. Have fun with your powerplaying and remeber to acually do somthing for once. Mabey train a few accolytes or do a mission or two instead of only pulling your character out of retirement once every six months when you want to prove that you can write about how you character can insta kill others due to his massive skillz. God forbid someone offers any callenge to your old boys club)

 

[Orphen]

Ziz, the colossal dragon bird of Sereno, a monster which had haunted the skies of the planet, ripping apart Silens' enemies in fabulous displays of violence and gore, by the time Alceus, a visionary, though little more was ripped asunder by the flames of Varek Silen felt mournful for the sorcerer, but as she felt the sorcerers' soul leave his body, As Ziz opened its gargantuan wings, and Silen leaped upon Ziz, soon after she watched the soul fal to chaos. He had knowledge, knowledge in which she wished to devour, but now it was gone. And so, she spoke in her native tongue... aloud.

وداعا، صديقي، ونسيب في المعرفة، على الرغم من رؤيتك ثبت كبيرة، حتى بالنسبة لنفسك. وسوف تضمن الكنيسة، على الرغم من أنه قد تقع معك، لا تزال تلوح لجميع السحر. لجميع" المعارف. مع مؤسسة الخاصة بك. سوف نصبح كبيرة حقا."

Good-bye Alceus, friend, and kinsman in knowledge, though your vision proved to great, for even yourself. I will ensure the Church, though it may fall with you, remains a beckon to all Sorcery. To ALL knowledge. With your foundation. We will become great indeed.

She had no intention of hanging around to see the last of the festivities, beside Ziz was Oosydd. The magnanimous Aing-Tii as she saw the empress walk out of the doors, she bowed to her upon her flying mount. She bowed low, and even the heads of the two birds bowed low. Ziz held her two force blades, as she used her tail to holster them where they were meant to be situated. With a mental command, she ordered Norsica to collect his artifacts when possible, who soon left, woefilled. To which end Silen then barrel rolled and soared at near mach speed away from the congregation.

She had, had enough of this foolishness. She had reparations to make.

 

[Defiance]

The Lepi had reappeared on the new scene. There was a sleeping man there, or what was left of him. He went up to him and began poking his remains, which weren't much.

"Hey, why did you go to sleep? What's wr-"

Silence. The humanoid rabbit stood there, frozen in place, eye sockets bulging. His fingers and the side of his mouth twitched, a harmony of reflex. Confusion would begin brewing upon the minds of those watching. A foot took the place of what was once the man's head.

"Death."

His voice wasn't gravelly anymore. In it's place was a shrill voice that could send shivers down a sinner's soul. Tendrils of darkness swirled around the seer as his irises disappeared into milky white.

"Death to us all, at our fall.

Mavericks, slaves, the time has come.
Heed my words, and hark my song.
There will be a change upon us erelong.
Come, sorcerers, come warriors, this is your bane.
An old player has arrived in this new game.
Who will you follow, that is the question.
Are you a heretic or are you a bastion?"

The Lepi then collapsed onto the ground with a slight frown on his face. His voice was plain and emotionless.

"I hate visions."

⇷|⇸​

Avlis looked on in interest. He hadn't changed his spot, why would he? The inauguration was just beginning to get interesting. Alceaus Vox, Archbishop of the cult known as the Typhojem, had offended the Darths, and thus instigated his own quickened death. The old man was half-dead anyway. But he saw a couple more familiar faces. Arcturus Wolfgang, he had trained with him once, but he was another subject of Avlis' earliest visions. Varek Rayth, the Emperor's Champion. Avlis was due to meet this man as well, but it was cut short when the Jedi he had kidnapped managed to escape.

Other figures he did not recognize. It didn't matter, they were only supporters to the two sides that faced each other. But this violence was a revelation of the tension that really lived underneath this mask of festivity. This cult was rising, but they have become convinced with a supposed mandate of heaven that they were becoming flawed. On the other hand, the Darths kept their control with extreme bias and pride, a slightest sign of deterrence resulted in quick death. This Avlis understood with near perfect clarity. He remembered the visions he had about Snikch's trial.

These developments the Umbaran pondered endlessly, but other recent developments were also dawning on his mind. When the Mad Rabbit entered the scene, Avlis was further intrigued. Some of these lines seemed to ring of some sort of familiarity, but no answer appeared. Avlis went into motion now-he was leaving.

He would have to consult his friend about this.

 

[Kiro]

With the Empress gone, and the Darths going about eradicating and exiling those damnably stupid Sorcerers whom believed themselves to be the servants of some arcane deity (and really whom believed in Gods or religion this day?), Nika merely shook her head and turned on her heel. She had more pressing duties to take care of. The fleet and the troops under the command of her and the Admiral would not take care of itself. While an important meeting, professing one's loyalty to one's new Empress, she had no desire to 'socialize' with the other Siths and Darths, while she had duties that needed to be performed.

 

[MasterTyvokka]

Ryak watched as Varek incinerated The High Priest of the Cult of Typhojem, Alceaus. Frankly the whole thing made Ryak quite angry and without wasteing anytime he turned and left the building. As he did so he made sure to leave with a crowd of other acolytes and crusaders so as to keep his exit obscured. Ryak felt that this was necessary given what had just happened. Although Ryak himself was a full fledged member of the Cult he was a sorcerer and took part in cult activities and thus he was in danger.

He was most distrubed by the fact that what seemed to be going on was a witch hunt on Sorcerers. Whether or not it was sorcerers in general or those that could challenge the darths Ryak didn't know but one thing he was sure of was that he fell into the later category and as a result would have to be careful and secretive from now on. Upon arriving on his ship and heading into the atmosphere of Bastion, Ryak began make preparations. He needed to make sure that he could hold his own should one or more of the Darths decide to hunt him down.

 

[Dmitri]

Darth Akrasia clapped like a little school girl as Darth Varek sent the archbishop to meet his god personally. He had a menacing grin on his masked face. "Bravo, Varek, bravo. That'll get the point across that Andraste is the leader no exception and inspire fear to any possible revolters." From the eye slit, the eyes showed a person cunning and calculative, contrary to his outward personae. It was easy to get around things when people thought you were crazy, after all.

Which was why Akrasia wondered why he hadn't been summoned to one of Arcturus's lovely shrink sessions yet. Laughing more calmly now, he took a plant from a server's tray and bit it. The server's face paled. "Uh, milord, that was for decoration. It's not meant to, uh, be eaten."

Akrasia laughed as if he found this funny. "No matters. What comes in must come out. Ahehehehaha!"

 

[Amon]

Kyra could only watch as her master got destroyed courtesy of a giant fireball. Standing close to her master Kyra did not escape unharmed. The flames had reached her left arm and some debris had hit her head just above her left eye causing it to bleed. It took everything she had not to scream out in pain. Glancing at her left arm Kyra could see the flames were actually crawling up her arm towards her neck. Thinking the flames would reach her head a kill her Kyra came up with an idea that was most likely the stupidest thing she will ever do. Without hesitating Kyra used her right hand to pull out one of her lightsabers which she promptly ignited and with a quick slice her left arm, from the shoulder down, hit the floor. Limbs could always be replaced but heads? Not so much. Clipping her lightsaber back onto her belt Kyra fell to one knee and held the now bloody stump of an arm she had left.

"You must leave now Kyra, you are not strong enough to survive should you be attacked" a voice said in Kyra's head. It was a spirit she had made a contract with. "I know that but where can I go" Kyra thought back. It was then she heard a familiar language. Turning Kyra saw a woman speaking, it was the same person who had arrived with the three bird things earlier. Before Kyra could say or do anything the woman was gone. Flew away on one of the giant birds.

Not knowing what to do Kyra made a run for the door and weaved through the crowd. No one would notice an adolescent Nautolan girl with a bloody stump for an arm right? Making it outside Kyra found transport back to the Typhojem temple where she would be able to heal and find a replacement arm. Anything more than that would have to wait.

(exit)
--------------
Draven listened as people spoke and glanced around at the various people. A very tall faceless being with tentacles coming out of it's back was in a similar position to Draven, hanging out above the crowd. Draven was higher still looking down on this thing. There were other people who caught his attention, such as some sort of humanoid-shaped talking rabbit.

As the newly crowned empress left Draven watched the chaos unfold down below. Some people were verbally fighting, some where physically fighting, and some guy just got incinerated. Draven couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he watched. He loved violence and normally he would join in but he could tell most people fighting were a lot stronger than him and he was kind of fond of living. Draven could feel his masters anger and noticed he was leaving the building. Moving to a nearby window Draven opened it a jumped out. He used the force to slow down his decent as he landed behind his master. "What now my master" Draven asked as he followed his master away from the temple.

(Exit)