Hexad Kagortos
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- May 23, 2019
- Messages
- 15
- Reaction score
- 7
Korriban, 2355 local time
Hooded figures filed into the room in small groups, slowly filling the dimly-lit chamber and taking up spots in the specially designed areas. In the center, a lone coffin, crafted out of onyx, was placed atop a small podium, held up so that it faced the funeral-goers. Its lid was off and placed underneath it for when it would be put on. Within it, Darth Parox lay, his eyes closed. He was clad in his battle armor, his lightsaber placed within his arms, which were crossed in an X shape across his chest. His hair was neat, his wounds tended to. His arms covered it, but the wound that had killed him was still there, underneath all those layers. His heart no longer beat. His skin was pale, and if anyone touched his skin they would feel how deathly cold it was now. Darth Parox was, without the shadow of a doubt dead.
Some had thought he was still alive. That he'd faked his death, ran off to the Unknown Regions. They thought he'd start his own Empire—though where they got the idea, no one knew. He was loyal to the only true Empire, and he'd died because of his loyalty. He'd been stabbed in the back after refusing to kill an Imperial—a competent member, a Sith Lord who would be better alive than dead, helping the war effort. For his loyalty to his Empire, he now lay dead, and his killer walked free. If Sith could join with the Force, Parox would be one angry ghost.
Torches around his coffin made shadows dance across his face, and Hexad Kagortos simply watched, his gaze far-away. He was embroiled deep in thought, pondering the circumstances of Parox's death; he wondered if he deserved it or not. Parox had been forced to make the ultimate choice: the Empire, or the dark side? Had he chosen wrong? Hex supposed he better save it for the speech.
Looking around the room, he searched for familiar faces. Now was the time when people could walk up to the corpse, to pay their respects and say their final goodbyes. Once everyone was done, he would send Parox away with a speech. No one had organized the funeral, so he supposed he might as well. Therefore, he got the right to give a speech. It was only fair.
He knew that Sith gatherings tended to be controversial, and as such guards were stationed at all exits, ready to throw out any troublemakers.
Sith only. Use your first post to pay respects. Feel free to walk up to the coffin, kiss him goodbye, monologue, or whatever else you want. In 72 hours the final speech begins. Death/PvP/Shenanigans disabled. This is a funeral guys.
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