Ask Delayed Introduction

[Darth Tempest]

Tempest had grown accustomed to her seat of power on Mustafar. While she continued to reign over Thule through vizirs and regents, the Dark Lord of the SIth almost exclusively spent her time within Fortress Vader - tirelessly working to advance her own plans and machinations. At her directive, the Order had already moved to secure facilities within the Amorris Drive Yards - in addition to placing key allies within Arakyd leadership. It was the first steps towards rebuilding the war machine that the Sith had once commanded - piece by piece. It would take months or years for her efforts to fully come to fruition, and it meant utilizing every asset at her disposal.

As a result, it didn’t take long before her attention turned to one of the more powerful members of her Order. Ciri was something of an enigma amongst her followers - a Nightsister that hadn’t stayed amongst her own kind after the split, and one who remained a loner from the rest of the Sith. She hadn’t been present at Junction, nor had she made an appearance on Mustafar - despite pledging her allegiance to the Dark Lord. There was an air of mystery around the Champion that Tempest had finally decided to rectify - summoning the woman to Fortress Vader. Her additional work in Alchemy - helping to recover the work of Sol - drew her attention.

Tempest was seated upon the throne of Darth Vader - her fingers curled across the blocky, obsidian armchests of her seat. The Dark Lord was adorned in her signature armor and mask, while the curved hilt of her lightsaber was clipped to the side of her waist. Several droids were stationed around the room, forming the preliminary defenses that had been commissioned for the Fortress.

The Dark Lord waited patiently for the Champion to arrive - her gaze fixed upon the durasteel doors situated at the far side of the room, straight ahead.

 

[Ciri]

Chirikyât hadn't really been surprised about having been called in by the Dark Lord of the Sith. After all, she lived in the shadows and while she had preferred to simply keep it that way, she couldn't ignore her request after she had obviously drawn too much attention with her latest doings.

She was adorned in her black and crimson Sith armor, her lightsabers clipped to her belt and her cold facial features relatively neutral as she the ashen haired Champion was being led into the throne room. It was surely a sight to behold and even if Chirikyât wasn't fond of heat in general, she couldn't deny that this place was surely special, giving its special history.

"My Lady", her light and airy voice was a contrast to the austere looks and cold demeanor, but she did bow respectfully as she went down on one knee. She was curious to figure out the purpose behind the Dark Lord's summons.

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Seated upon her throne of obsidian, Tempest watched as the Champion was ushered into the grand hall - slowly closing the distance between them. As a consequence of the narrow windows behind her, the molten landscape of Mustafar cast the entire throne room in shades of red and orange - glowing against the back of the Dark Lord’s own silhouette.

She watched as Ciri dropped down to one knee - paying the Dark Lord the respect and deference she was owed. Any initial opinions of the Champion were kept entirely to herself, her featureless visor tilted downwards to regard the woman. Moments of silence ticked by, and Tempest only leaned back against the spine of her seat.

“Champion Chirikyât,” She broke the silence, her voice heavily modulated and distorted by the mask she wore. Even still, the faintest hints of her Induparan accent were audible with each word that passed her lips.

“I understand you’ve begun delving into the research of Sol Kenuk,” It had been years since the Kel Dor had left the Sith Empire in a combination of shame and madness. The Dark Lord wasn’t the least bit displeased to see him gone forever, but even she couldn’t deny - his research into the arcane had merit. If there was something left from the Sorcerer, it belonged to the Sith Order by all rights.

"Tell me of it." What the Champion had located in her search was important to thr Dark Lord. What she intended to do with it - and just how long the Nightsister intended to sit upon the knowledge without reporting back to Tempest - was far more important.

 

[Ciri]

The Dathomirian normally didn't bend the knee to anyone, but she knew when it was clever to still do so. Tempest had quickly risen up the ranks and had taken the position of the Dark Lord, so Chirikyât was naturally suspicious, especially because she simply didn't like working with people in general.

She also hadn't kept up with the development when the Sith Empire had still been a thing, so this was indeed their first actual time interacting as she had formely been a practioner who stayed away from others. The woman on front of her surely commanded respect and the way she was draped on her throne was impressive and Ciri was also convinced that she was strong...but the rest remained to be seen.

"Yes, my lady. I have indeed". Obviously, she wanted to know about it and obviously she wasn't left with much of a choice. "I've always been practicing the ancient arts of alchemy and recently, I have made progress with humans. Kenuk's scribbling were only somewhat useful, but he pursued various ambitions. I was starting to attempt making something out of legacy as it can serve our kind".

She was meeting her gaze, even if hers was hidden behind the visor of her armor. "I was hoping I could already demonstrate something, but I'm not that far yet. I can still assure you that finding ways to alchemically alter sentients is terribly gruesome work . Kenuk was getting close himself, but it takes time to continue".

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Tempest couldn’t help but squint ever-so-slightly - listening intently for the progress being made from Sol’s research. Unlike Ciri, the Dark Lord had actually known the Kel Dor before his disappearance. Despite his irritating personality and madness, the Champion was an alchemist with proven success. Either Ciri was underrepresenting the contributions of Sol, or she simply didn’t understand the content that had been left behind.

The Dark Lord didn’t respond immediately - allowing the silence to hang between them for a few moments. Without a word, Tempest rose from her throne - descending the obsidian steps to approach the woman at their base.

“Do you have anything to show for your work thus far?” She asked after a moment. The Dark Lord had more resources at her disposal than Ciri, and was willing to re-allocate if the Nightsister and her research proved to be worth anything at all. But in that moment, the uncertainty lingered.

“You vaguely speak of creating something to serve my will,” She leveled her gaze onto Ciri. It would quickly become clear that speaking broadly or with an air of mystery wasn’t going to gain any positive response from the Dark Lord. “Clarify.”

 

[Ciri]

Even if the Dark Lord's curiousity was piqued, she wasn't immediately showing any signs of pleasure about her findings. She obviously didn't know the Nightsister and she had no reason to trust her words, but Ciri hadn't come empty handed, obviously. It was still good to the the Dark Lord was no fool about this.

"I do, Mylady", she curtly replied, her piercing yellowish eyes drifting back to the entrance door. "I've got something waiting for you on the ship. I can ask one of my slaves to deliver it". But she was right. Vagueness wasn't leading either of them anywhere and Ciri had always been the rather blunt, direct kind.

"So far it has worked with the wolves. Pretty easily even. Altering beasts isn't too difficult, but breaking humans and turning them into mindless, brutal slaves in a different story", she explained, her voice as airy as before, her distant gaze meeting the Dark Lord's again.

"What I've begun as experiments can lead to much more quickly. Doing all the work alone makes progress slow though. I've been meaning to call up on Champion Cyutadakyr - I've learnt you two have already made each others acquantaince". Not just that. Cyu seemed to have worked with the Dark Lord on several occasions, but Ciri was also somewhat interested in the young pureblood.

"Kenuk's work comes in handy, but many parts of his scribbles have been lost. I'm working on filling the gaps, but I believe he was up to something far greater", she continued explaining, actually wondering whether Tempest knew more about that. "We've all seen the AMS virus...but those zombies had been out of control. What if there was a way to make them obey?".

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Tempest said nothing - observing the Sith Champion quietly. The prospect of some alchemical discovery had been enough to tentatively pique the interest of the Dark Lord, but it left her with little patience for vague and pointless ramblings. Her gaze only hardened as the Nightsister continued speaking, tilting ever-so-slightly to regard Ciri.

Just as the woman mentioned ‘asking a slave to deliver’ the research, Ciri would feel the Force constrict abruptly around her throat - cutting off her airways and leaving her to gasp for her next breath. Her entire body was hoisted a few inches off the ground, each limb pulled taunt and forced into an uncomfortable angle. There would be little chance to resist, and perhaps Ciri was intelligent enough to avoid such an attempt.

Tempest had little tolerance for fools - and less for a woman who couldn’t be bothered to bring a single thing of substance to present. She cared little about amateurish experiments, nor any reference to Cyutadakyr. The Pureblood Champion had done little to prove herself any more competent than Ciri, and their joint efforts were pointless unless results were achieved. As she channeled the Force, the Dark Lord couldn’t help but muse how quickly her predecessor in Darth Raze would’ve snapped the Champion’s neck for the insult.

Ciri would receive no respite - the edges of her vision growing dark as the life was squeezed from her. “I grow weary,” Tempest began slowly, tilting her visor up to drill holes into the Champion. Her voice echoed with its mechanized tone, reverberating through the Force and blaring through Ciri’s mind with deafening intensity. “Of wasted time.”

The Dark Lord finally glanced to the very edge of the Throne Room - fixing her attention onto one of the slaves that had followed Ciri. Whether it was through telepathic command or the intensity of her gaze, the nameless servant quickly scurried from the room - off to fetch whatever Ciri had brought.

It was only then that Tempest released Ciri - allowing the Nightsister to drop unceremoniously before her. The Dark Lord stared down at the woman without another word, before promptly turning on a heel to return to her throne. The Dark Lord had little interest in what the Champion had to offer at this point. If Ciri was half as intelligent as she believed herself, she would not linger.

 

[Ciri]

Why had she even followed the summoning? She already regretted it. She had never intended to directly work with her, holding the conviction that Sith weren't made to mingle and collaborate, and that their distrustful nature usually prevented them from even holding actual conversations was proven just a few seconds later.

She found her air flow getting constricted as her feet left the ground. She was tempted to simply lash out, but obviously clever enough to hold back and simply let herself be disgraced like this. Very charming. How exhausting this whole conversation had been...

That was exactly why she usually didn't just meet up with other Sith. They were insufferable and impossible to please. Not that Ciri enjoyed anyone's presence, but after she had found herself on the ground, gasping for air, she did push herself back up to her feet, her yellow eyes dangerously glaring. Not yet.

She turned and left, keeping perfectly quiet and her thoughts well guarded and to herself, walking out of the throne room with rather quick steps. She turned into the next corridor where the frightened slave approached her, operating a hovering cargo box. She simply threw her head back, thus motioning for the slave to drop the caged wolf-like abomination in the Throne room or wherever.

She obviously left without him. Not having the patience so stay and wait. Anger and frustration radiated off her as she moved into the ship and commanded the pilot to take off right away. She had no reason to linger. The Dark Lord would be able to handle the creature if she was half as strong as she thought, but if she didn't appreciate the fine alchemic art, it only proved that in the Dathomirian's eyes, the DL failed to see the truth. Maybe they'd meet again, maybe in a less hostile setting, but as proud as Ciri was she would keep to herself like she usually did.

/EndThread