Out of the Pan, Into the Fire

[Reign]

ons of Sith legacy, empires rising and falling, the blood of generations of power building just beneath the tumultuous surface— yet greatness had escaped them. Endless power at the fingertips, squandered in the bickering, in the pride, in the plotting and scheming: it was of little wonder why they had failed so often.

Great battles and great victories had come and gone over the millennia. These had never mattered.

History had a great deal of value, and the galaxy had so very much history. This history whispered to her through the stars. The cold space outside of the window was wholefully uninviting to most, but it told tales of great exploits and impossible feats. This corner of galactic space was no different; the violets and blues of gases and bands of stars that had made up the Outer Rim were a tapestry against the endless black of the known universe.

The globe of red drifted into view as the ship drew near. Korriban: there had been so much history on Korriban, too, and every acolyte had learned it, and a select few did so firsthand. This was the seat of countless Sith empires. The most sacred planet in former-Imperial space. And the hole within which the Sith had crumbled to dust and disarray. Dust fed to time and space, forgotten until some day made anew. The Brotherhood had been born on the backs of the failures long-past, the death-throes of platitudes, different from but altogether reminiscent of the Jedi's. They just drew different lines in the sand, lines to be minded and never crossed. This was where it had all begun and ended.

Was the Brotherhood any different? Or just a dying gasp for breath? Ban had her opinions on the matter— an agenda, conviction to insure that this legacy was more than dust and footnote.

On some level, her path had begun the day she had been adopted by the Academy, an acolyte. But this was the day she emerged from the womb of infancy and into adulthood, and it had begun in full; a summons by the one in the seat of power, above the Brotherhood, guiding the path of this iteration of the Sith.

The ship that carried the Sith was a former-Imperial Shuttle, yet another relic of Sith shortcomings. To date, it continued to carry the legacy it had always been purposed for, as if clinging to the hopes that it might one day see the vision of its creators take fruition among the stars.

As the ship docked into the space station at the heart of the planet, it was not ambition or pride that filled the mirialan. Though she had been selected as one of many to stand beneath Vereshin, of whatever breed of Sith he was, it was a heat of fury that filled her. One fed by the fear the billowing cloud of Force that emanated from the heart of the station; one fed by the anger of just how far from her destination she truly was— an image illustrated by weight that pressed against her chest as she neared the would-be-heart of the Brotherhood; one fed by an insatiable hunger for so very very much more.

As Ban stepped from the shuttle into the darkness, the unknown, one thing was certain: she wasn't disappointed.

Not yet.

Spoiler: Tags

@Marf

 

[Marf]

A meditation chamber was nestled high within the peak of the Korriban pyramid, where the Supreme Leader himself worked. A glass window pointed upward to the stars and allowed the light of Moraband to cascade over the room. Korriban, the Sith Capital, it was on this world where Darth Adethys had bound his life to its' haunted sister, it was here where the most nefarious schemes and experiments were planned at his hand. The chamber was large and circular, fashioned with glass and hues of crimson and ebony. Vereshin enjoyed being high up in the sky, anywhere that hid him away from everybody else. Pressing events spoiled his peace, the exile of the Dark Lady and a Jedi armada on it's way to the Sith borders. The Sith regent needed an accomplice, a young apprentice to enforce his word and follow his will.

The presence resonating throughout was sensed by Vi the moment the young woman stepped off the elevator. It was a curious essence, stale and translucent, almost devoid of flavor or texture, not one he would particularly like to devour, but was far more useful. Ban Chee was stoic and firmly impenetrable, her mind was a nihilistic void not unlike Adethys' own, there was nothing there to exploit, nothing but darkness. The Supreme Leader stood in the center of the room, wearing only his usual robes with a hood concealing his features. A deep black, fluffy mass of a feline padded silently around his feet and rubbed it's body up against the silk hiding his legs.

Her pale green features shaded by a hood, the young Acolyte Ban Chee entered and strode lightly over the wide pathway leading to the center of chamber. Modest and prudent, she was inconspicuous and unassuming. A shrill meow came from the cat and bounced off the glass windows, resonating throughout the space. Vereshin turned around, raised his pure white hands to lower the hood, revealing his jet black hair, slicked back with a distinct window's peak.

"Ban Chee. Your timing is perfect. I suppose you know who I am?"

As the Acolyte stood before him, Vereshin slowly approached her, his words as light as the moonlight floating on the black steel, but they were laced with anxiety. The present situation was written on the regent's pallid features, he was thinner than usual, his eyes were marred by fatigue rings and the intravenous drip was present in his hand, he had not been able to eat. Despite all, Vereshin's handling of demeanor did not falter, his poise was unbroken as per usual.

"Time is of the essence and I require an accomplice. Jedi forces are massing toward Telos, their leader will be fighting there. I am going to kill him."

Bau Zo. The wretched monkey, the righteous fool who would sink so low as to steal from the Sith their own fallen and burn the corpses. The very thought of the man triggered Vereshin's psychotic anger and caused his Force presence to turn an inky red. Should they maintain their distance, Vereshin was confident he could wrench Zo's flesh from his, but the Sith Regent was sick, he had no melee skills. If the famous Jedi general got his hands on Vi, he was done for.

"... would you do me the honor of fighting at my side and slaying his Padawan, as my apprentice?"

@Reign

 

[Reign]

he weight of the presence only pressed harder as Ban stepped from the lift and into the audience chamber.

In her time at the Academy here, she had sensed a great many through their presence in the force. Many of the masters had made an impression: they had all been within reach. Comprehensible from her position as an acolyte; despite her youth and inexperience, the natural affinity she bore had made up for it and then some. She could play them, anticipate them, manipulate them. She feared not reproach. By the end of her time at the academy, she knew that at least a handful of the masters were her lesser.

But this— Vereshin —was different. To say she he was out of reach was a disservice to herself. She knew that. But there was a chasm between them: one she couldn't vault over as she had in the past.

The empty expression she wore belied the fear and anxiety that welled up behind the walls she spent years constructing.

She hadn't felt fear in a very long time.

Ban savored the reminder of what was not, what could be, what would be. She chose not to push the fear away and coddle herself under the covers in tremors. No, a good Sith feels. She could be a good Sith if it were necessary.

"I know whom you are. Supreme Leader of the Brotherhood, crown of the Sith— if the metaphor is appropriate—" her voice was as steady as the Regent's poise, in defiance of the turmoil within, "Darth Adethys. The masters in the Academy make sure we're well-educated on current affairs."

She chose not to kneel or bow. Peasants kneel and bow. The weak kneel and bow. And she had also known enough of this corner of the former Empire to know the dangers that came with that choice

Ban let Vi speak his mind. It did not take Force sensitivity to tell the urgency of the task at hand or the weight that the burden rendered. But where he went with the weight of this burden was.. unexpected. Apprentice to the Supreme Leader: not a trivial role. Nor was it one that the past had seen fit to dole to acolytes still wet behind the ears, untried, untested. The look in the mirialan's eyes were telling this time, inquisitive at the notion that had been presented to her. Of all the places a summons to the Regent might have brought, this was not what she foresaw.

She couldn't hide the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Her words, however, carried themselves, "I would, master." She failed to inflict the better sense that beckoned behind the kneejerk reply, "But, why me?"

Spoiler: Tags

@Marf

 

[Marf]

The apple-skinned woman stood before him, her posture stoic and her expression lifeless, but her defiance was apparent when she had neglected to bow before the Sith ruler. It was hardly a punishable mistake, and Vereshin swallowed his mild distaste. Leaving his lips slightly parted mid-sentence, he cocked his head in silent judgement before lifting up his hood over his features, the bright lights had began to irritate him. Slowly, he strode towards Ban before standing directly in front of her. She was only a few centimeters shorter than Vereshin, who was thinner too. Extending forth a pallid hand, he gently gripped her chin with the sharp points of his nails. The small trace of his fingertips would be ice cold to the touch against her skin.

"You hold your composure well, Ban."

Releasing his hand from her chin, Vereshin moved away and held his hands together behind his back while beginning to pace. His strides were long and contemplative and the cat seemed to lull about his every moment. Fighting the Jedi Lord, it was little more than an insult. Vereshin was a Sorcerer, not a combatant and the idea of dancing around out in the elements on Telos was extremely unpleasant to him, but the monarch of the Sith could not allow Zo to capture territory so close to Moraband... His very life depended on it.

"Your mind is not one of a blazing nova, nor is it a lightning storm... It is a nihilistic void, all consuming and impenetrable, like my own."

Vereshin ceased his pacing, standing two meters away from the young woman. He extended a hand and pointed two fingers strongly towards her forehead, in time with the motion, the pupils of his eyes would dilate entirely to turn his irises entirely black. For five minutes or so, the dark sorcerer would empty the contents of his conscience into Ban's own thoughts. What would fill her mind was a series of indescribably horrific images and rapid, distorted sounds. Gnarled static and the piercing screams of the victims whose souls Vereshin had devoured resonated at ear blowing levels, they sounded too haunting not to be real. After time seemed to have lost control, the kaleidoscope stopped, in place of blackness, a drained void of absolutely nothing.

It was a vision of a dying galaxy, the end of time itself.

Darth Adethys retracted his hand and the vision would exit Ban's mind and return to his own. His pupils grew smaller and his irises were restored to their usual bright red. Whether it had been a look into the future, or simply the Sith Lord's deluded madness was not certain, but if Ban accepted the void, she would accept her role as the apprentice to Adethys. He spoke once more, his words slightly more direct than they had been before.

"Kneel before me now, or suffer the price of arrogance."

@Reign

 

[Reign]

rom the deepest and darkest places within, Ban could feel turmoil stir inside. As the regent approached and extended his hand to her, a hushed anxiety filled her. The ice cold touch against her skin shook her to the core; it wasn't the cold that alarmed her, but the electricity that the touch had seemed to carry. There was an imprint in the force the other had made, one that only came with power.

Power, she respected.

But the Sith Empire had always been powerful.

It had so often not been enough. A part of her held these thoughts at bay, behind the curtain of darkness she had erected to protect herself in situations like these. Questioning hierarchy was healthy; history had shown that greatness had come from the task. Pure and unquestioning obedience had never pushed the frontier any further than the door.

As her cold and empty eyes met Vereshin, composure was maintained, "Prying eyes make the game hard to play," she said in reply to the compliment she had been rewarded. There were so very many games she spoke of, but there were layers upon layers of truth in the statement.

And as she spoke the words, she tapped the very first trick she had sought as an acolyte— one that hid her intentions and quieted her imprint on the world around her. As a weapon, it had served her well since, for an unseen fury had a way of surprising an enemy. Of course, there was also a layer of better sense beneath the surface. A sentiment that she felt set her apart from her ilk, and it was the same feature that pressed her to question or even challenge the Masters. No one had all of the answers. No one was right all of the time. No one would get the benefit of the doubt.

But, she also knew that this feature she possessed was dangerous, though it had helped her excel and, perhaps, compelled the Regent to seek her out. If she slipped, Sith like her became liabilities. If she overplayed her hand, Sith like her sewed dissent in the ranks, dissent that had ultimately destroyed the once-vast empire.

The thought was short-lived, interrupted by the fingers that pressed lifeless skin to her forehead.

Ban hadn't the time to react, nor would a reaction have been smart at the moment.

What transferred between them took her whole, and, for a moment, she felt herself rocket from her body. She couldn't describe how her body responded; for all she knew, she had collapsed under the weight of what passed from the Supreme Leader into her mind. Perhaps she convulsed on the floor. Perhaps she stood in place, unmoved and catatonic. But what she saw was magnificent.

It hardly mattered what the source of the vision was. If it indeed was the regent's madness, so be it. If it were in fact oblivion, then that, too, might be what was in store for the Sith.

As Ban's senses returned, she found herself buckled to the ground, on hands and knees before Vi, exasperated, out of breath. Her mind felt as though it had been wrung out to dry, as if every nerve within her had been pushed to capacity and left wanting, "What— what was that?" For the first time, her composure had been shattered. Not just because she had been physically taxed by the experience, but because that insatiable hunger for more— more knowledge, more foresight, more power —had been kindled bright and hot.

Already, her mind raced to assess what she saw. Separating fact from fiction the best she could, calling on what she knew of the Force.

A force vision? Of the past, of the future? Or a little of both. Something else had crept through, and it was this that was most interesting. A glimpse of power had distorted the vision; she hadn't the information to sort it out now, but there was something there worth exploring. An opportunity, perhaps.

"Kneel before me now, or suffer the price of arrogance."​

For now, one thing was very clear. This was where she was fated to be: where her chains would be broken. It was here, that she chose to defer, shifting where she had fallen to kneel before her master. She would be free.

"Then consider me your apprentice," she hissed as her anger took hold and snuffed the void within as a deliberate show of what was being offered, "And I will deliver the padawan's head on a silver platter."

Spoiler: Tags

@Marf