Tempest had given Azar minimal notice before arriving on Korriban. Word spread like wildfire across the Galaxy, echoing the news that brought a genuine smile to the face of the Dark Lord. The Empire was weak - perhaps the most vulnerable it had been since war with the Consortium had nearly collapsed its infant regime. Years ago, the Sith had been too weak to capitalize on the ruthless campaign of Emryc Thorne.
But now? They had resources and influence enough to strike back against the very government responsible for their exile. It didn’t matter how much Tempest loved Altair, or the care the Tiefling had for the Empire. It didn’t matter how readily she would burn the Galaxy in the name of the Empire’s greatest hero. Imperials would always be her enemy. And the Dark Lord would relish pulling apart the very foundations of their government.
And Tempest knew precisely who was responsible for granting her such an opportunity.
It was one of the rare times that Tempest traveled to meet one of her followers, rather than demanding their presence on her own grounds. It was the first hint of the value she placed on Azar. On the respect he had garnered from the multitude of victories delivered on a silver platter over the course of months.
Tempest stood at the very edge of a cliff - a jagged and rocky outcropping that jutted up from the desert, overlooking the endless dunes and rolling hills of Korriban. It was miles away from Ur. Away from any holy site, temple or tomb. Azar would know better than to bring anyone with him for such a meeting.
In silence, the Dark Lord of the Sith gazed out across the sand-scorched horizon - feeling the energies that radiated from the unique Korribani nexus. She had not roused from her meditation since arrival, and would not until the arrival of the Sith Master. She was adorned in robes of Zeyd-cloth, dyed a dark maroon and trimmed with gold. The hood was pulled up to cover the upper hemisphere of her face, though the helmet she typically wore was omitted for the evening.
But now? They had resources and influence enough to strike back against the very government responsible for their exile. It didn’t matter how much Tempest loved Altair, or the care the Tiefling had for the Empire. It didn’t matter how readily she would burn the Galaxy in the name of the Empire’s greatest hero. Imperials would always be her enemy. And the Dark Lord would relish pulling apart the very foundations of their government.
And Tempest knew precisely who was responsible for granting her such an opportunity.
It was one of the rare times that Tempest traveled to meet one of her followers, rather than demanding their presence on her own grounds. It was the first hint of the value she placed on Azar. On the respect he had garnered from the multitude of victories delivered on a silver platter over the course of months.
Tempest stood at the very edge of a cliff - a jagged and rocky outcropping that jutted up from the desert, overlooking the endless dunes and rolling hills of Korriban. It was miles away from Ur. Away from any holy site, temple or tomb. Azar would know better than to bring anyone with him for such a meeting.
In silence, the Dark Lord of the Sith gazed out across the sand-scorched horizon - feeling the energies that radiated from the unique Korribani nexus. She had not roused from her meditation since arrival, and would not until the arrival of the Sith Master. She was adorned in robes of Zeyd-cloth, dyed a dark maroon and trimmed with gold. The hood was pulled up to cover the upper hemisphere of her face, though the helmet she typically wore was omitted for the evening.