Perilius Position

[Leandros Solus]

The home given to him by the King of Onderon was more than just a mere place to sleep at night. Needing to be something befitting the Mand’alor, the wise king had it fully renovated and upgraded in numerous areas, making it both a comfortable, lavish place to stay, as well as a fortified strategic operations center. Among these renovations included an impressive armory for his personal weapons, a hangar and workshop for his basilisk and armor, command center with a holographic map of the galaxy, and a small, reinforced “guest” room for people the Mand’alor personally wanted to… meet.

After the meeting with his War Council was over, Leandros had asked Drace to remain behind, knowing the man had something to show him. He’d seen the fight on Tatooine and how he’d bested the Sith he was against, and hearing that the man claimed a prize from that fight that was important enough to show the Mand’alor piqued his interest considerably. Once the others had left, all that remained were Leandros, Lily – who was in another room – Drace, and the Mand’alor’s honor guard, who remained posted by the entrances to ensure nobody of ill-repute tried to disturb the peace.

Leandros waited in the command center, arms folded across his chest, as Drace went to retrieve the so-called “trophy.” He wanted to know what, exactly, was so special about it. If it was anything less than a live prisoner, the Mand’alor would toss Drace out the window and keep whatever prize he brought. His time was valuable, and he had many meetings, as well as a play date with Lily, to attend later. The dull blue glow of the galactic atlas reflected dimly off his mask, and his foot began to tap impatiently.

@vamp

 

[Drace Solus]

The meeting of the War Councilors with their Mand'alor had been productive, as Drace expected. There was no reason for it not to be. He left feeling content, excited, and a bit giddy for his next errand. Which was to deliver the surprise to Leandros.

And so here Drace was, pushing the surprise along in a rusty wheelbarrow, the Sith's legs still not replaced. Sure, he'd had the medics look over the wounds and patch them up so the poor bastard doesn't get an infection, but there was no goddamn way Drace would waste any more money and resources on that piece of trash than was absolutely necessary. The failing Empire could fund its own "leaders" with the prosthetics they needed. For now, he would interrogate a legless man. It would make an escape harder anyway.

Markov was handcuffed and had a black bag over his head that made it impossible to see. He'd been wearing it since Drace brought him out of his cell, and the handcuffs were made to ensure no Force use would pump out of those palms. There was nothing to do for the Sith but comply—or deal with the consequences.

Drace pushed the wheelbarrow into the room, the door shutting behind him and locking, Leandros' guard stepping forward to stand in front of it. The War Councilor set it down in the center of the room, eyes on Leandros, then whipped the black bag off.

"Voila." The Sith's face was now in the open. Drace had just wheeled in Darth Perilius. And things were about to get a whole lot worse for the Lord.

@Painus @ByakuyaXVTogami

 

[Darth Perilius]

.

How could things get even worse for him at this point with all of what he’s gone through from the Atlas incident to now?

The last day has been probably the worst his life has even been. No doubt he’s never felt this much pain physically nor emotionally. The humiliation he’s gone through because he pulled an idiot mistake has put him in a state of depression. He hasn’t spoken or shown any external emotions since the duel. He failed his Order, the Emperor, everyone. There was no support left for him most likely within the Galaxy, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he came back to being executed or replaced for his failure. He was ashamed and despised himself.

The fact that he was completely legless has made him a pitiful being. He couldn’t do anything on his own basically and he was being wheeled around as a paraplegic. His status was further degraded when he was thrown into a damn wheelbarrow and a bag was forced upon his head. His remaining intuition, (if he trusted it still) lead him to knowing he was to be interrogated and presented, but by whom?

As he was wheeled like a piece of trash he began to sense people. Obviously one was most likely his captor Drace, but when the bag was lifted from his head, he was surprised to see The Manda’alor standing in front of him.

He looked upon the man in front of him, easily recognizing him. He showed no fear of him, because he didn’t fear him. Instead, he kept a demeanor of respect for him. “We finally meet... Manda’alor...” he said, his vocal cords hurting still. That was literally the first time Perilius had shown any kind of emotion, but only his words expressed, otherwise he was absolutely monotone.

“As you can see your comrade had made work of me... it was an honorable battle to me. I respect the combative ability placed in front of me.. the challenge accepted, but I fought with the wrong mindset that day, and what you see now is the consequence of it..”

He paused as he observed the battle worn appearance of Leandros, contemplating his thoughts and the possible outcomes of this conversation. To him this might be the very room that he dies in.



“What makes battle an honor for you? What drives you every day?” He said with pure curiosity. He’s never had a conversation with a Mandalorian anyway, let alone their leader, so might as well learn their motives with the small options he could have. He attempted to avoid anything that could anger him.



@Painus

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros waited, arms folded over his chest, for Drace to show up with whatever was so gods-damned important. He half-expected the man to show him a lightsaber of some kind, or perhaps some other meaningless prize. The meeting had gone well enough, but with his curiosity piqued, he expected something grand to enter the room he stood in. Drace seemed giddy about showing him the prize, so his hopes were high.

The sounds of squeaking wheels precipitated the arrival of his new guest. At first, he thought tinnitus had caught up with him, and the occasional squeak and squeal pissed him off, but it got louder and louder with each passing second. When he reached up to remove the mask he wore, the door slid open with a hiss, and Drace walked in with… a wheelbarrow carrying somebody. Leandros slowly lowered his hands from his mask, looking at the entrance with confusion. It was peculiar; he thought Drace was going to bring an object as a trophy, not a whole-ass person.

Or… a half-ass person.

Leandros watched Drace wheel in some poor, legless, handcuffed wretch. He smelled of piss and shit, and a shower was likely not even close on his list of things he’d done lately, though the Mand’alor couldn’t blame him. It’d be hard to shower without being able to stand, and a bath would’ve probably drowned him. He perked an eyebrow, curious as to why Drace saw fit to painstakingly roll this man into his home in a wheelbarrow that barely even worked. It wasn’t until he removed the hood that Leandros understood why he was so excited to show off his prize. He was quiet for a bit before letting out a calm, ”Nice.”

Darth… Perilous was it? Perilious? Perilously? Whatever. Stood- er, sat in front of him in his new local home goods store throne, and would be greeted by the ancient mask and imposing figure of the Mand’alor. Leandros was thankful for the anonymity of his mask, because his face immediately twisted into a smile he couldn’t suppress. This was a Sith Lord? He remembered a time when Sith Lords were fearsome, or, at the very least, not reduced to such humility. The man began speaking to him in some servile manner, displaying an insulting level of respect for both him and Drace.

Leandros tuned out pretty much everything Markov said other than referring to him by his title and the questions at the end. For several moments, he simply stood there, baffled that the man had the audacity to speak to him at all, even after such humiliation. The room was silent for a while until Leandros stepped forward, looking Markov in the eyes from beneath his mask, before placing his hands on the edge of the wheelbarrow.

”For one,” he said, his tone lighthearted, ”I’m not driven by the guy who put me in a wheelbarrow.” He gripped the wheelbarrow and flipped it sideways, tossing Markov well clear of it. He was incredibly amused by the sad sight in front of him. These were the caliber of people who glassed his home? The mere thought of Markov leading a fleet insulted Leandros, and his jovial attitude quickly turned sour.

He looked down at the helpless doormat of a Sith Lord in front of him, tilting his head sideways. He had a million questions to ask him, but only one really forced its way to the forefront of his mind.

”Does your cock still work?” he asked, ”I doubt it hung low enough for it to have been cut off.”

Leandros looked up at Drace, then back to Markov, then back to Drace. This was one of the best pre-Life Day presents he could have gotten, and he wanted to go shake the War Councilor’s hand, but this was far funnier. He looked down at the pitiful man in front of him, wondering what use he would have for the Mandalorian people. The possibilities were endless!

"This is the future of the Sith..."

The Mand'alor laughed.

@vamp @ByakuyaXVTogami

 

[Drace Solus]

Leandros seemed pleased with the offering, and Drace couldn't help but find the humor in the Sith's predicament, laughing as he watched the Mand'alor tilt the wheelbarrow, causing Perilius to fall out and land on the cold durasteel floor with a painful thump. The man was sporting his fair share of cuts and bruises, but it seemed he would be developing more after today's visit.

"A damn bright future," he added. "For us, not for them." Drace chuckled, then nudged the man on the floor with his foot. "Time to get to business. We're gonna need you to tell us a bit about your Empire—sorry, Order. Gang. Whatever the hell you are these days. Anything you feel like sharing—and especially what you don't."

Drace sat down on one of the chairs in the room, demeanor carefree. They had time. "We can wait."

@Painus @ByakuyaXVTogami

 

[Darth Perilius]

.

Darth Perilius watched the Manda’alor as he degraded the Sith Lord, throwing him out and aside, hitting the ground painfully. He didn’t show any pain; it wasn’t anything in comparison to what he was already feeling. As they prodded at his feeling and humiliated him, he would keep a emotionless exterior like a machine, yet his fury was beginning to bubble up once again, knowing that his facade wouldn’t work, and he’d might as well speak bluntly. When his head was forced sideways he had fire behind his eyes. If he had the ability to he would enact his revenge for what all they have done to him both as personally and towards his entire organization.

Leandros would ask him such a foolish question to pick at him again, but he would keep his calm demeanor, despite feeling more anger inside. He didn’t want to show fear or anything to them. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so curious if yours actually hung that low, Leandros..” he thought, very slightly glaring. The Manda’alor was angering him, and he didn’t want to verbally hold back his tongue and hit back. He wasn’t going to let himself look submissive; his facade had been broken.

“The future of the Sith is one that is unknown, yes... but the new regime is certainly better than the previous.. Maybe they won’t be as hypocritical.. Mistakes are made.. then mistakes are corrected. Isn’t that something that you can relate to?” He asked, keeping a calm demeanor. If he was going to let his anger blow then he’d look like they’d have more anger issues than the Sith.

“Pain and humiliation hurts, but not as much as the floor I’m on. Lets get to the point..” he nodded whenever Drace began his spiel. Indeed they were going to get to business, but likely not in the way were were going to get.

“Anything I would like? Well what would you want to ask? It’s not like I have not too much knowledge anyway, given I’m still newer for a Lord... I will tell you that I had absolutely nothing to do with the glassing of your home planet... it was a stupid move; if I was in charge I wouldn’t have ordered it..”
He didn’t have much to really share, but perhaps there could be some advantage to be made.


@Painus @vamp

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros’ laughter subsided once Drace began to speak, the humor of the situation fleeting. Before them lay a Sith Lord, one of the highest members of their pathetic Order. The wretched form of the man on the ground spoke volumes of the caliber of Sith that now roamed the galaxy, and that sickened Leandros. To think that he had fought against these people for years, lost so many friends and loved ones to them. It did nothing but anger him, and what was once an impassive expression curled into a frown. The man on the ground would see no such expression, of course, but he would feel the hate roiling within the Mand’alor. What fetid corner of the galaxy bred these fawning idiots?

He spoke, and he spoke, and he spoke. Each word was meaningless, useless to him. Each sentence and phrase he said did nothing to calm the Mand’alor; if anything, it only angered him further. By the gods, he was a sycophantic weasel! If ever there was a throat begging for a brisk half-hitch, this was it. Drace had been kind in his demand, but now Leandros would intervene. After Markov’s excuses, Leandros stepped forward again and wrapped his coarse, gloved fingers around Markov’s thin neck and lifted up. He continued to lift until Markov was eye-level with his mask and drove him backwards, slamming him against the metal wall. The pressure would cut off his air flow and make it difficult to speak or fight back. He was entirely at the mercy of the Mand’alor.

”Your opinions are worthless. You mean nothing to me,” he growled, ”The only reason you are alive is because you’re not fit to stain my floor.” He pulled Markov off the wall and slammed him back into it, again by his neck. ”I want to know everything. All of your worlds. All of your temples. All of your access codes and ciphers. All whom you call or calls you master. I am not asking. I will never ask. You will only obey.” His words were guttural and harsh, and the dim light of the room would reflect Markov’s face in the visor of the mask Leandros wore.

He wouldn’t loosen his grip on the man’s throat. If he wanted to breathe, then he would begin giving the answers his captors were looking for. ”Whatever gods you believed in are dead, wretch,” he spat out, ”I’m the only thing you worship now.” His grip would tighten with every moment the man delayed his answer, the impassive mask of the Mand’alor gazing deep into his eyes.

@vamp @ByakuyaXVTogami

 

[Drace Solus]

The tension quickly escalated as the interrogation slowly picked up. Leandros seemed to take charge, leaving Drace standing there awkwardly—interrogating usually tended to be a one man job, so there was no reason to just sit there like an idiot. Instead, the War Councilor gave Leandros a quick nod (hopefully the Mand'alor would understand its meaning) and headed out of the room, to attend to some other business.

The business was not relevant. Markov would likely wonder why Drace left, but he could keep wondering.

@Painus @ByakuyaXVTogami

Temporary exit​

 

[Darth Perilius]

.

The force that slammed him into the wall was palpable. Perilius was being choked of his life as all he could do is look into the mask of Leandros. He was being demanded even more and Leandros’ anger was showing as he screamed at him, his clutches increasing in pressure as he began to become more lightheaded. He was extremely unwilling to answer, not that it mattered. They’d most likely have the answers he already had, and if he didn’t say what they wanted he’d decrease his chances of surviving to zero. All he could hope for is the answers satisfying the brute.

“...K-Korriban...” he coughed as he tried to continue. “Dromund Kass... Mustafar... Vjun.. Yavin IV...” these answers wouldn’t be so helpful to the Manda’alor. That’s all of the planets they had direct control and he spoke the truth, but they were all obvious.

“I answer only to Darth Tagus.. the Sith Emperor... I am not involved with any defensive or offensive campaigns...” he glared.

Despite all of the pain and emotional suffering he was going through, all of the internal rage and desire to obtain revenge, the Sith Lord would keep his exterior calm. If he was around anyone else his feelings of defeat and self anger would be so forceful. He still didn’t want to show emotion and give a react the bully would crave for.

@Painus @vamp

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros continued to hold the pitiful man by his neck as he gasped out answers to his questions. Every planet he named he already knew of, and nothing he said gave him any insights that were not already obvious. The man’s expression betrayed nothing, and that, perhaps, both amused and irritated Leandros to no end. All it would take was a few more pounds of pressure and his windpipe would be crushed, leaving him to die an agonizing, suffocating death. The Mand’alor stared at him, raising him higher as he continued to choke, scrutinizing his face, knowing full well that his vision would begin to blur and dim as the life was choked out of him.

Eventually, he let go, letting the half-man drop to the ground onto his stumps painfully. He looked down at him as he hit the ground, disgusted with what he had just displayed. ”A Lord of Sith…” he trailed off, shaking his head, ”Reduced to half a man willing to give up his Order’s worlds for nothing more than a breath of air.” He turned and walked a few steps back, spending a few moments to gaze at the holographic atlas of the galaxy and where each of the worlds he’d listed off were.

”What do you see when you look upon me, little man?”

Leandros turned away from the map to look down at Markov, taking a step towards him. ”A conqueror? A savior? A captor? Or does your pride keep you from seeing me as anything beyond an animal?” His tone was taunting, knowing that nothing the man could say would satisfy him. As he approached, he flexed his hand, opening and closing his fist. The weapons he wore rattled against his armor very gently.

”Because you’d need to think I’m an idiot to believe I would fall for your lies. One last chance. Tell me everything.”

@ByakuyaXVTogami

 

[Darth Perilius]

.

The man holding his life wasn’t completely satisfied. Perilius had followed his exact directions, yet it didn’t satisfy the Manda’alor. He could see the irritation behind the man’s eyes. This would make the Sith Lord feel satisfied, despite his now blurring vision. If he were to die here, at least he died with dignity.

He wasn’t planning to die today, or not for now, however. He’d be released before he would fall into the inky blackness of suffocation, hitting the floor once again quite painfully, but this didn’t falter any external fear nor anger.

Leandros would inspect a map, then turn back to him, asking a question that actually he could answer opinionated. The man had indeed high opinions of himself, an ego comparable to a higher echelon Sith, yet he was his people’s savior. He was many things, which intrigued Perilius. He was the greatest foe for him, but he acknowledged the work and blood he sacrificed for his people.

“...I see all three of the former as descriptions of you...” he began, keeping his expression as monotone as possible in order to not show any attitude.

“You conquered planets, tearing ownership for your crusade, seeing that liberation of many of those planets. You are a savior to many... the ones that were desiring a better life came to you.. you gave your people drive and broke them of the chains that my ancestors placed upon you.. you broke them for the others... Finally, you captured me and most likely other Sith. You are the captor of our worlds... A man of multiple jobs... a man of multiple seen perceptions..” he said.

“Many Sith will see you as I do... One thing will be a common denominator however: You will be remembered as all three of what you said...”

He was fully aware he’d fine some reason to not be happy about his answer, but he tried his best, speaking the most truth he could. He wasn’t a Mandalorian Sympasizer ; not at all. Perilius had as much hate as Leandros had for him.

He was still demanded of answers, which was something he didn’t know how to satisfy.

“Hoth... Morriband.. and Naboo.. those are all that I could think of...” he began, trying to recollect information in order to avoid death. “Darth Kados is my closest comrade.. There are no plans for offensive attacks that I know of... Anything influential related is to be non-violent.. There is no infiltration plans that I know of.. There is only defense and fortification left...”



@Painus (OOC: All planets listed are the ones requested for us to keep on the atlas, and all information spilled is what Markov would know since he isn’t involved with that much offensive/defensive campaigns)

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros looked down upon the piteous wretch before him, his face frozen in a scowl, as he recovered from the choke and began to answer his questions. He began to describe him as the first three – a conqueror, savior, and captor – but his words were hollow; the sycophantic ramblings of a man beyond reproach and without hope. It continued to sicken the Mand’alor, how weak and servile this man was. Again, the question baffled him: this wretch was Sith? These were the people who destroyed his home and killed his wife and ruined his life? There was no fathomable way this was the same foe he’d fought for the past eight years. It was truly beyond comprehension. Had he not learned his lesson before in betraying his order? How afraid of death was this man?

”You talk too much,” he growled, stepping forward and slamming his palm against Markov's face, hooking his fingers beneath his jaw to grip. He lifted the half-man by his face, brought him over his shoulder, and slammed him back against the wall forcefully. Thankfully, he had this room soundproofed and reinforced, and the only person who could hear him was the one punishing him. ”Where is your Sith hate? Where is your loyalty to your so-called Order?” he spat out, slamming him again against the wall, ”Where are the things that made your Empire so feared?!”

Leandros kept his head pinned against the wall and brought his knee up quickly, slamming it into his stomach. With his free hand he punched the side of his head, knocking him sideways out of his grasp for a moment before catching him by his throat. He lifted him again, choking the life from him with hate. The whole time, he’d only see the faceless mask staring into his eyes, a constant reminder of the man he was in the presence of. ”Show me what counts as fury among your misbegotten kind!” He threw the body down on the ground the same way one would discard trash before turning and walking away and back towards the galaxy map.

His contempt for the Sith was coming out in spades now that he had a moment alone with one of the Lords. It didn’t matter if he was responsible for the bombing of his home; he was Sith, and each one of them was culpable for the crime. He watched the map spin around slowly, his eyes staring at Korriban and the other assorted Sith worlds. ”If you are a Lord of the Sith,” he said slowly, ”Your coward of a master has failed you.” He turned his gaze back towards the man, slowly walking around the table, looking at him through the map.

”Stay awake, little Sith. You don’t have my permission to die yet.”

@ByakuyaXVTogami

 

[Darth Perilius]

He finally stopped demanding intelligence. At last he didn't have to keep that tomfoolery. Darth Perilius would watch as the enraged Leandros would continue to physically harm him, more severe than before. He was slammed into the stomach, smacked in the face, and choked once again. The continual gibbering that he spat at him was enraging him more. Perilius' hate would finally begin to show.

His facade had been broken.

The emotionless shell of a man he was was gone, and now laid a Sith full of hatred, resentment, and the desire to slaughter the Manda'alor if he was given the opportunity. The pain that he was given rather than knocking him unconscious would fuel his resentment and power. He looked at Leandros with fire behind his eyes, a glare among his scarred and bruised face.

"I am awake..." Perilius said with a low growl.

"The Order and myself will NEVER fall to you!" he said with a expression full of malice. "No matter how many planets you glass... No matter how many times you strike me against a wall or choke me... No matter how many Sith fall... My fury will keep me alive... with the desire of revenge and to defend the Order and strike down our enemies..." his fury was palpable now, and it resonated strongly. He didn't desire death, he desired vengeance. If this was what Leandros wanted then he would deliver his true self.

"My former master wasn't a coward... Dead or alive, she would face one of your strongest lieutenants and fight valiantly... I swung against one of the younger lieutenants as well... Despite its cost, I stay determined... I stay alive, absorbing more hatred..."

He didn't care how many times he would be slammed or choked, he wouldn't let himself die now; not in this room or in the clutches of the Mandalorians. He had made his point, and if it wasn't satisfactory then Leandros could just let him sputter more and assert more of his malice.

He was furious. The rage of the Sith was exerted from him. The Dark Side of the Force saturated around him.

@Painus

 

[Koil Solus]

It hurt to walk. It hurt to talk. But the pain of being idle was worse. Many new items were on his person as he walked down the halls to meet with the Mand'alor. Koil had heard Drace fought another Sith Lord and immerged victorious. The Silent Badger's booted steps did not slow as the sliding door moved open with a hiss.

Koil heard the sounds of violence before he saw it. But he could put two and two together. The sight of the legless Sith before him caught his quiet attention first and then he slowly turned towards his comrades with body language with some curiosity. His steps resumed, slower than when he had first came in from outside the room.

The Silent Badger's armor, scorched and damaged still with dried blood from Darth Victress contrasting against his scatterweave. His steps came to stop in front of Darth Perilius. Koil knew who he was. He had been on his list. The daunting helmet just looked down at Markov. The man beneath had renewed energy just at the sight of the Sith. The words of Darth Perilius reached Koil's ears though he made no indication they had any particular affect.

One arm, holding the still damaged helmet of Darth Victress fell to the ground. The wet part of her neck that was still exposed struck the ground before rolling and coming to a stop. One blaster scored eye stared lifelessly up at the ceiling. He had brought the head of the Dark Lord of the Sith for Leandros. Even through the damage helmet the Sith Lord would be able to recognize it. There's only one difference between you and that bitch. You're unlucky enough to still be alive.

Turning his helmet towards his Mand'alor he would seem as if he would speak for the first time but as usual, remained silent. Leandros knew well enough what Koil was capable of. He would be happy to lead the interrogation. But they seemed to have it handled. If they needed his expertise, he would be more than happy to provide it. His visor centered on Markov one last time. Koil wanted him to question everything he believed in for those brief few moments. Without saying a word he would turn and head back out of the room. The door would hiss open and then close behind him leaving Darth Perilius alone again with his interrogator yet again. The Sith better pray that Leandros did not call the Silent Badger back into the room.

@Painus @ByakuyaXVTogami @vamp exit unless called back

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros watched his helpless prisoner writhe and growl at him despite the punishment he’d endured. To the Mand’alor, his contempt finally surfacing now after all that he’d been through was almost laughable; it was like watching a toddler grow irritated with their parent for taking away their snacks. Despite having been beaten repeatedly, he managed to show some modicum of defiance for the first time, and, again, he was far too wordy for his captor. Before Leandros could step forward and harm him again, the sound of footsteps precipitated the door opening with a hiss. He thought Drace would be returning, but, in his stead, Koil strode in.

Without a word, the man dropped the severed head of Darth Victress onto the ground. Leandros stared in disbelief for a moment before his scowl turned into an extremely-satisfied grin. He was wondering when Koil would come collect on the bounty, and the man had made what was quite possibly the most apt entrance of all time. In typical fashion, Koil regarded the Mand’alor without a word and then left, leaving Markov and his captor alone with Victress’ head.

With a grim chuckle, Leandros stalked around the table and picked up the severed head, taking a moment to study it. It wasn’t very weighty, and the misshapen nature of the damaged helmet served only to mock the former Dark Lord’s image even further. He approached Markov and squatted down to be eye level with him. ”Looks like your master fought against us just like you want to,” he said, smiling contentedly beneath his mask, holding the head up with one hand so Markov could stare at it, ”And it looks like she died like a bitch. Just like you will.” Without warning, Leandros swung the head directly at his face, slamming it into him, literally beating him with his dead master.

He stood up and placed a heavy boot on his chest to push him down, at the same time setting Victress’ head on his chest so that he could continue to look at what would soon be his fate. ”Just like your coward master, your entire Order will fall. My people will rain death upon your worlds. We will destroy your homes, ruin your temples, wipe out all traces of your Order. Your mothers and fathers will die, your children will burn, all hope of returning to glory you ever had wiped in an instant, and all you can do is watch as we do it. The only accomplishment you will ever have made is having the privilege of speaking to the man who will make history forget you ever existed.” His tone was low, hateful, and filled with more malice than this worm of a man could ever manage.

He walked over and pressed a button on his console, keying Drace’s communicator in case the man had not yet begun to return. This meeting had gone on long enough, and Leandros gained nothing of note except the chance to abuse a man who meant nothing to the galaxy.

@ByakuyaXVTogami @vamp (after bya’s post)

 

[Darth Perilius]

.

Darth Perilius glared at Leandros with blighted hate. His anger boiling exponentially and matching his enemy. He watched as the Manda’alor approaches him but then another War Councilor entered the room. He would walk in with the head that still has armor.. the armor of Darth Victress.

The color of the Sith Lord’s eyes was now even more of a sharp and hateful yellow. He was in shock, but now even more furious that his former master had been slain. He did not speak nor cry out. All he would do was glare with sharp anger and the desire of slaughter towards him. He watched as Koil would leave the room, obviously writhing in pain.

“You and your kind are not invincible.. No matter how many times you try to crush our order.. we will rise again... As shall we will now..”

He was then beaten in an ironic sense with his master’s mask. He did not feel pain at this point, as his pain would be absorbed by the everlasting fury and hatred. He was a changed Sith, and he had seen enough for today. The dark side of the force surrounded him more than ever before as he would not buy into the foolish promises Leandros had.

“You will burn for your sins.. the Sith will never fall.. the Force shall break my chains...” he said, as he would let the inky darkness of unconsciousness take over. He didn’t have much to say anyway, and he was going to save his fury for a time he was able to execute it. He had unfinished business.

The Sith Lord named Darth Perilius had marked his revenge.

@Painus (if you want after Vamp replies) @vamp

 

[Leandros Solus]

Leandros was not a very patient man. This meeting had gone on far longer than he wanted, and every second of this Sith’s existence irritated him to no end. Even after the wretch had been beaten and broken, even after his skull had cracked against the metal wall, even after Leandros choked him to near-death, still he remained defiant. Defiance, among the right people, was a virtue, but here, it was an annoyance. He had already failed to display the malice and cruel nature that Sith were known to have, and whatever façade he could throw up now meant nothing to him; the only thing he would be known as is a pitiful, legless, scab of a being.

He waited for Drace to return to the room, but the man did not show in time. Leandros was a man of extremely limited time, and the attention he had devoted to an otherwise worthless meeting was already an incredible waste of such a valued commodity. He’d never get back the minutes he’d spent beating and questioning this Sith, and, despite it all, the only thing he gained were the names of a few worthless worlds he already had on the list to burn to a crisp.

Again, Markov spoke up, spitting defiance in the face of his hospitable captor. Again, Markov refused to heed the warnings and lessons Leandros had tried to teach him throughout their brief dialogue. He’d been punished before for talking too much, and all it took was him to keep his mouth shut for just a few moments longer and the already emotionally inflamed Mand’alor would not suffer his indignation any further. As Markov declared that he would burn for his sins, Leandros raised his wrist, still looking at the galactic atlas swirling in front of him. ”I decide who burns for their sins,” he spat out, activating his flamethrower.

Right away, the cone of fire would totally and completely engulf the half-man’s body along with the severed head of his master. The cruel Mand’alor would fire for the full six seconds his flamethrower had fuel for. Markov’s skin would bubble and ooze; the blood running through his veins would gradually begin to boil; his hair and clothing would catch fire and melt to his charring skin; Victress’ metal helmet and mask would only burn him further as it heated up and seared a hole into his chest; the entire time, Leandros paid no attention to his death, for it was like squashing an insect.

He had been merciful, kind even, but the man exploited that mercy. He believed himself beyond reproach in the presence of the Mand’alor, but Leandros was not a kind man. He was not a merciful man. He was an angel of vengeance sent by the gods to punish the wicked like this poor excuse for a villain. Perhaps, in his final moments of helplessly being burned alive, he would cry out and beg for answers. Perhaps he would scream in agony. Perhaps he would quietly pray to the gods for forgiveness.

Unfortunately, Leandros was the only one who could hear him, and he would not be answering his prayers today.

@ByakuyaXVTogami @vamp

 

[Darth Perilius]

.

He was lucky to not know that this was his final moments.

Darth Perilius would fall into the inky blackness of death without ever knowing, his anger being brought into then grave. However, his last thoughts were of acceptance of his fate. He didn’t die a coward, nor in vain. He died as he lived: A Sith with a calm facade and a enraged internal dogma.

He had gone through so much in the last few days, and the further that time went he accepted his fate more. He didn’t fear death unlike many Sith, he didn’t fear pain. The only thing he feared was the disappointment of his superior.

When he died, he died a warrior, a lord of the Sith, one that marked vengeance. He became one with the force.

The Sith Order wasn’t over.

 

[Drace Solus]

Drace's errands did not take long, so the War Councilor found himself making his way back to the interrogation room fairly soon. He wasn't sure what to expect when he walked into the room, though he had a sneaking suspicion Leandros had managed to crack Perilius. Soon enough, they'd be able to wrap things up.

He didn't pass by Koil and he didn't spot the Silent Badger, the two not intersecting; Drace knew only that the man's battle had been successful from a Holonet account he had read while in the elevator. He was thinking about the duel with Victress when the door slid open in front of him and the smell of burned flesh filled his nostrils. A wave of heat flushed over him, turning his face hot as he walked in, already suspecting what had happened.

Looking around, all he saw was Leandros, standing in front of a charred, blackened, lump. "That him?" he asked, pointing to the lump. "Shit, that is him." He didn't know what to say, really, but Leandros was rarely wrong. Drace shrugged his shoulders. "He was useless anyway."

One thing was certain. The Sith Order was crumbling. They were free falling into the unwelcome arms of history, where they would rot for centuries.

A new era was dawning on the Galaxy.

@Painus @ByakuyaXVTogami