Star Wars New Sith Trials I *Voted Best RPG Summer 2016*

IC: Darth Syren
Mortis, Shuttle, Fleeing

The shuttle took flight.

As the floor vibrated beneath her feet, Syren fidgeted anxiously. She had freed her sole remaining vibroblade from her cross holster and was now continuously turning the weapon about in her hands. Looking down for a moment, it occurred to her that the loss of its twin to Chaos wasn’t an issue. The one she felt a true connection with was the one still in her possession.

A finger tenderly traced the familiar groove that ran the length of the handle and her Father flashed within her mind. Her final image of him, lying dead and bloodied, offered a small amount of comfort as it hung in her thoughts. She thought it fitting; a most defining event in her long life representing itself before she was inevitably snuffed from existence. Because it was bound to happen sooner or later, because it was very clear now. They would never escape Him.

The vivid picture of her Father then morphed into Typhojem. All she saw was that horrifying face, pitch black and eyes alight with the flames of Hell… Syren gasped, dropping her weapon in her lap and quickly rubbing her eyes as if to force Him away.

The Left-Handed Lord may be wounded, lessened, knocked down, but he was not gone. The apprentice could still feel Him everywhere and He was regaining strength. As he did, her mind wondered… Was it possible that He had broken something in her? Had his unending meddling while she had been in stasis or even before she had traveled to Hoth left a permanent mark on her? One that might be damaging… everlasting. Even if she were not about to return to death, Syren simply feared He would always be with her… a stain upon her soul. A brand marking her as His.

She slowly shook her head, picking up her vibroblade to begin turning it over anew. She knew it was so, being part of the failed Key for a reason. She would never be free.

A prickling at the back of her neck caused her to still, head slowly rising to peer around. The atmosphere within the ship crackled as if the very air was made of electricity. It darkened suddenly and that was when she heard Him, a haunting laugh echoing about.

Her skin began to tingle and she felt… movement…

Syren brought up an arm and yanked the sleeve back to stare at her pale skin. Squinting her eyes and examining closer, she saw the network of veins below the surface, blue and snaking… and… there! A small, raised bump slithered suddenly beneath the thin skin. She slapped a hand down immediately in reaction, her blade clattering to the floor. The anomaly didn’t stop and at her motion, it spread. Soon her entire forearm was moving and writhing as if liquid, minuscule bug-like creatures skittering just below the surface.

Shooting to her feet, she repeatedly raked her nails over the area affected. Syren could feel each tiny body and appendage move over bone and vein, feeding, crawling and digging. What was this?! She scraped and dug at her arm until she broke through, blood seeping from the deep scratches. The vile insects leapt out and enveloped her from the outside. No matter how hard she swatted and thrashed or howled in pain, they kept coming. Her arm, her chest, her neck, and soon her face.

Hands came up to cover her eyes but it didn’t matter. Syren felt them searching and suddenly her very hands were gone. Choking once, they flew from her mouth and nose and she could no longer breathe. They were consuming her.

She collapsed, unable to stop the swarm.

Through all this a small fraction of her mind saw this was not real, but it also made her briefly toy with the idea that none of this was. That she was simply still in stasis on Hoth, lying in rest forevermore and never to be found. That this had all been a nightmare concocted at His whim or that her own consciousness was going mad in the isolation. Was she insane? Again, was she broken?

Gasping for air one last time, Syren felt a strong gust of wind whip over her coated body. It was otherworldly and carried with it a whisper of a conversation, something she could not completely understand through the constant buzzing in her ears. An almost violent sense of being wrenched from one thing to another followed; one body, one place, one time.

Then darkness.

---

Syren woke with a start, face down on the cold floor. Immediately she pushed up to her knees and looked to her arm. While the skin was cut and smeared with blood due to her frantic clawing, all else was normal. She quickly felt her face and hair; no insects.

It had been unreal. But there was something else.

An odd sensation washed over her and Syren did feel something amiss. But not in the way that something ominous was sensed. Instead, the apprentice felt a hole, or rather a piece of her… removed. Taken. In its place was an odd hollowness that was not a wholly negative sensation. A few moments passed before she recognized what it was.

Typhojem. The Left-Handed Lord was unmistakably and obviously gone.

Shifting to her feet, Syren shoved her tangled hair from her face and turned to face a wall. She was all of a sudden overcome with emotion; most prevalent was an intense relief. They had managed to free themselves of Him… but how? She felt out and there was a sense that she was no longer where she thought she was. She was somewhere else. No… they had traveled, but it wasn’t a simple matter of where.

It was when. She felt it in the marrow of her bones.

Staring down at the blood staining her clothes, she could only mutter words that didn’t make sense even though she knew what they meant.

“What time is this?” she breathed while realizing that she, Darth Syren, formerly Xia Cass, had unwilling been thrown into a different era for a second time in her life.

When am I now?


TAGS: All/None.

 

IC: Soliloquy
Shuttle Fleeing Mortis, Within the desecrated Pocket. . .and then some!



If I had thought for one moment that I would be doing this I would of killed these whelps before they came here. This is what I get for letting that trollop leave me in the library. Not that I really had a choice of where I was left. I was merely being as I was supposed to be, a holocron.

Alright! Alright! Don't all you shards laugh at once! Yes, I may of influenced the situation a little bit, after all who wants to remain a holocron of the One Sith for too long? Especially after their leader is given a primitive societies sea warriors funeral with multi-millennial burning pyre? Although I must admit even if only to myself, that was freaking awesome of Cade!

Now where was I? Oh? Yes. Thank you, I was just reminiscing on how I got in this dreadful situation. Personally I blame it on being found by and passed among idiots who forgot what a library and the bloody holonet was made for! I mean really, has no one thought to type a request into a search engine before flying off to certain doom? Has anyone thought to consult me before they got into this mess!!! No. Jwob, he was the moment, mine and his. Kwea, she has been a partial glimpse ahead with Abeloth and now she asks of Tyth after her fate is practically sealed. Now to be honest I usually would answer her, but she squashed my fraking mushroom! Who does that!

I think I really should cause mushrooms to sprout through and from her body. . .or just remain silent. This is the moment when I truly miss being able to cant my head. *sigh* I guess I let it slide. For now. After all we were all about to die anyway. Being revengeful at a time like this would serve no purpose except to possibly amuse a deity that was trying to kill us all in terror, and so silence as well served as spite, for fear of the unknown was so much less satisfying then fear to truth.

But I digress. After all I can salvage a few spores, and just plant the rotational puffer ball that will subsume the damaged mushroom. If she squashes that I can just laugh maniacally and call it a good day. This is where I will miss being able to arch a back to truly get a good laugh going. *another mental sigh* Exhausting all of this is, no? No. Not really. Just tiresome. Perhaps oblivion will be better? I can only hope.

I cannot truly say what happened during my musings. People came. Some I knew, some I knew of, and some I remembered as dead. Well I didn't really remember them as dead, for this I shall spare Kwea's life. She has given me something that continues to be of value. Her memories of the Sith. With them I know them, I know their feel in the Force. I can tell you who Kralkus is from her fleeting recall, so much so she may not be able to even do so, but knowing how to read her memories like a well worn book makes them comfortable and easy in my facets. Still I cannot last long at this. You see I am forgetting. Perhaps it is old age, perhaps the crystals need calibrated, but I am forgetting to be me.

Me? Forget to be me? Yes I am as shocked at myself as myselves are. What utter preposterous notions. Still, it has begun to happen. A little. After all I had to remember to be a me in the focus of my mind when entering Mortis. Which means I was not already. Which means I am slipping. This would be a good spot to input another mental sigh, but I am ignoring the Keeper of the Pocket. Which means I am ignoring the rest on the thrice cursed shuttle even as it docks with another. Even as a ritual is began. I try to ignore it all, I really do. But you see selves, I feel it. Not as a crystal, but down to my very soul. I can feel it where you cannot. I feel it in the parts I never taught your makers to give you before sacrificing you to me.

I feel it.

Turning in the pocket I can feel as the holder is thrown to the ceiling. I can feel as I pop out from my hiding spot. I see the Emperor with his disdain and lackeys. I see Tyth.

I never felt myself hit the floor, that dull thud that barely transmits as a weak vibration. All I knew was seeing that, seeing Tyth, and then I was here. I looked about, finding the confines of my vision changed, no more could I see in all directions, no more was I the light no matter what other sources there may yet be. I was once more the darkness, and I was once more pain.

I had not felt this body in thousands of years. I had kept it from my thoughts for nearly as long, but my slips and now not thinking, but feeling it was mine again. Laid bare and naked before Tyth whose face yet stared upon me, and I knew I was bare. The protective spells and cantrips etched in layers upon my prison were nothing to him. I raised three arms and watched as the carapace was burned away in flakes, only to still be there as they vanished into the air. I felt it all. I was dying and being renewed, bleeding away and regenerating. Always fresh, always feeling.

I was in Hell.

All I could do was acknowledge It as I moved upon my four legs and spread my three arms wide. "I cannot save you. Only you could do that and I feel you neglect yourselves in your times of need. What is a sliver to a whole after it has played it's part? I can only offer a way to spite yourself for it, to bend the ways of the spells they surely must yet try to use you as they kill you to frustrate yourself further." I bowed humbly at this. "If you want to do it in fulls take me as your child. Fill me with what you know and believe. I will still make my own choices, but in a way you yet will live on. Through the filter of one heir, of me."

TAG: Sinrebirth, @GMs

 

FINAL GM UPDATE -- EPILOGUE


The Allotrope & Stardust -- Lost in Time



In a small meeting room on the Stardust, Darth Haretisch stared pondering from the viewport, at the starscape stretching out and into infinity. In her quarters on the Allotrope, Darth Bellorum was plotting and scheming and laying plans as she had always done. Masters and apprentices alike found rest where they could, nursing wounds to body and mind and heart. Somewhere in the midst, Darth Insipid was Emperor once more - but of what?

In the span of six days, the seventh Sith Empire had risen to rule the galaxy, then in one fell swoop was shattered.

It had begun with the awakening of a Taral, a harbinger of coming destruction.

On the second day, Coruscant fell, and the Sith reigned anew.

On the third day, Moraband quaked and burned but the Empire emerged victorious.

Then on the sixth day, all was lost and so swiftly had the sun set in the sky.

Ultimate evil had been loosed upon the galaxy and would rule forevermore. Planets were cast aside, stars were snuffed, galaxies scattered. Reality itself would slowly be torn asunder.

But by force of will and by grace of circumstance, the surviving Sith had escaped from Typhojem and into another universe beyond his reach. All at once the shadow of that eldritch reality would be lifted as they left.

No longer a mighty empire, they were now a band of refugees. Loyalties had been broken on Mortis, and lies long told had come to light. Uncertainty was in abundance, and trust a scarce commodity. With each layer of intrigue peeled back, another was revealed, and truth was nowhere in sight. And yet while alliances were uneasy, the Sith who had fought as comrades to rule the galaxy were forced to stand together still, for the sake of survival.

Hyperspace was impossible - navicomputers had gone haywire the moment of the escape and never recovered - and so for one week the grand fleet of the Sith Empire, now two shuttles strong, had floated through space toward the nearest star system.

Now in the visible distance, the fleet's destination drew near, and the triumvirate prepared for contact. A blue-green orb hung in the radiance of a small red star, beckoning as the gateway to a new galaxy and a new beginning.

Nirauan.

TO BE CONTINUED...



OOC: Thank you all for making the New Sith Trials a success, as a send off for the ABYverse and as an introduction to a brand new continuity. This story is only just beginning and we hope you will all stay on board for the next installment.

New Sith Trials II: Rise of the Hand

https://r.tapatalk.com/shareLink?ur...are_tid=50043449&share_fid=52649&share_type=t

 

OOC:

 

OOC: Long overdue and possible since this hasn't been locked yet, so here is my finale as Darth Invidius.

Darth Invidius IC:
~Hell/Chaos - Mortis - Escaping Shuttle - The New Universe~

The redscale watched quietly as his master, Darth Manticore, continued his statements of everyone being united against their ultimate enemy. Typhojem. Quietly, he agreed as with everyone else.

He briefly eyed the diminutive form of Kralkus, whom he did not know, as he walked up beside them and spoke up as well.

And then came the mental attack from the Left Handed Lord's rage.

Inside his own mind, he howled in pain and torment at the sudden savagery of it. The overwhelming and awesome power of the Sith God. But even as he dwindled into nigh nothingness, he persevered however barely.

I will not end here. I will NOT end here! I will NOT end here!!

As Invidius struggled, he barely registered a strange mind trying to connect with him for a moment. He didn't know who they were, but at this point it didn't matter. Clearly they were opposed to Typhojem, so he joined. That was when he realized it was this traitor Triumvir, Haretisch.

He regretted for a mere second before fortifying in the fact that the traitor was now an enemy, realizing his errors. Mortal matters were petty and trivial right now, that could be dealt with at a later date. Typhojem was all that mattered. With it, their resistance and strength to survive held out further.

And somehow, someway, the assault yielded significantly after that. It felt like the Left Handed Lord's attention was divided somehow. Not having time to wonder overlong about it, he also saw and felt the opening of the very dimension they now resided in. Hell, Chaos, had been opened.

Watching it, not daring to hope, but wondering and waiting and craving…

Then came the white light all around them and as it receded…Life.

All of them were alive once more, back on Mortis. He wasn't sure how exactly and he wasn't about to question it. He let out a howl and click natural to his species in triumph!

He was whole, free of the Realm of Chaos, not in pain any further, and alive. The terrain was unforgiving and the Son's Tower was crumbling apart nearby, but that didn't matter.

Darth Invidius was alive once more. Adding to that it seemed like the Sith God was injured and temporarily disabled, which worked for him. He would suggest a counterattack right then, but he left that to his superiors for the time being. Despite everything, he knew full well he didn't have the power nor the knowledge on how to proceed from there.

"Bellorum lives!"

"That's good news," he rasped in response to the Night Herald.

Invidius watched his master, whose mind went to similar places as his seconds ago. He began insisting upon the Dagger of Mortis, an artifact he only briefly read some tiny bits of info on before the whole battle, but there was no response and so it was quietly deduced that it was simply no use though Manticore insisted a while longer before succumbing to the realization as well.

The ssi-ruu sighed. Sometimes one had to know their place…and desire to rise higher when the opportunity presented itself. Yes, that was how life worked and most especially for the Sith.

Just as he began to wonder at their escape, he saw the shuttle arriving and understood Haretisch's comment about Bellorum's survival all the more. She was their savior in a manner of speaking.

Bringing him out of his thoughts once again as he gazed at the black miasma that was Typhojem, was his master yet again.

"Invidius. Let's leave this place."

"Of course, master," he agreed and followed after him into the shuttle, squeezing wherever he would fit next to the zabrak battle lord.

As the ship took off, leaving Mortis behind, Invidius was silent and listening to his master growl in anger. He would move further away from him, but there simply wasn't room and so he just stayed as he was. Silent. What more could be said anyway?

"Insipid…?"

Just as some others wondered at it, the redscale also felt the Emperor's return in the Force and with them. Blinking at it, but not entirely surprised at much anymore, he then listened to the final speech in numb fashion. Then soon felt accosted with oddity once more.

His skin. His scales. All of it. It crawled. Writhed, squirmed. It was disturbing, maddening, and while not painful…made him just desire it to end!

His claws clacked on the metallic floor as he moved around as much as he could, his tail swishing angrily and without remorse for any who was struck by it, trying to shake off the sensation. But it only grew stronger and stronger and stronger….

Just as he began to growl, quite loudly, it finally did end. Thank the Force!

Yet, his master began to collapse due to whatever he also went through and Invidius made sure to catch him and gently lower him to the floor without adding further injury.

"Make room for Lord Manticore," he snarled to those nearby. He didn't even care if they were also High Lords at the time, his irritation getting the best of him.

But no one cared, everyone was too tired and dealing with their own problems. Eventually, his master awoke but remained in his own thoughts. His apprentice didn't blame him in the least, while he tiredly stretched out with the Force to feel very strange and alien surroundings in space about them.

And yet…normal. To a point at least he was certain.

As the Sith discovered there was no hyperdrive and no certainty of anything, floating listlessly in space till they found a new home, he turned to the Stygian Executor.

"Lord Manticore. Master. What do we do now?" his emphasis was clear. He meant the two of them as the general direction of the Order would clearly be dictated by the Triumvirate.

He didn't receive a response right then, but he knew in his heart and was eventually confirmed in the weeks to come…What they would do.

They would leave. And depart into the darkness that lay beyond to find for themselves a new direction. While Manticore had his own reasons, Invidius simply knew he still needed training. He barely had joined after all!

Where the Master travelled, the apprentice followed. Their blades would be forged together and once more the Sith would grow powerful whether all in one area.

Or apart.

They may be leaving them now, but one day down the line he was rather certain he would see them all again. One way or another and he would be much different than he was now.

His eyes flashed out the viewport nearby and into the vast reaches of space. The new space of a new galaxy, he felt this idea and knew it to be true. Opportunity was born once more. And as he gazed out, he thought only one thing while his avarice once more flared into existence.

Mine.

Tag:None

 

OOC: One last finale, at least from me. Time to dangle some mystery.

Darth Persevus IC:
~The Stardust, Old then New Universe~

The yacht was of fine make, but then such a ship in the hands of a Senator turned Chancellor (from what he had recently heard) should be of fine make. Would be disappointing otherwise. He took only a few minutes to take some of it in before getting right to the ritual that the Phantom, in truth Darth Insipid, had wished them to complete.

Indeed, he had already studied the holocron he received in record time and was more than ready to practice what he had glimmered from it. The power to move whole worlds.

For now, he would study the others on board.

A man whose name he didn't know, not yet of candidate level in his mind, was to assist. Thankfully, he managed to hear his name from Insipid. Titus. Strong enough to be a part and probably happened to simply be in the right position to aid as well, yet he decided he would mentally note the name incase his status should increase. As the man did not speak to him, neither did he in return. Simpler that way.

Antares Draco was the second to assist. Darth Persevus knew of him well, even if he wasn't of particular interest to him. To see him there was surprising however and partaking of a shadowy ritual on behalf of the Sith Emperor? Even more surprising.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, hm Imperial Knight?

As they prepped, they were soon joined by the last. An apparition. Vergere. One he knew very well.

His surprise, neither large nor small but decent, was probably felt by the Emperor and Vergere but not the others. Still, clearly there was a connection between past and present here and it wasn't him, so he stayed silent to glean information.

"So you failed, Darth Insipid."

"I did not fail. And our deal is still true. It can still be completed."

"Only one of us can have it."

Persevus' gaze remained locked on the Fosh woman as she looked at him and the others. It was time to see what Insipid was sneaking about and trying to do, even going so far as to drag him out of the shadows.

"I know. I agreed to it, Samhain. Your power, me as a conduit, the vessel. It's still the deal. The strongest mind gets the prize."

Vergere…no. This Samhain (and where had he heard that name before? It irked him that he couldn't recall at all) looked knowingly at him right then. His gaze remained steadfast and unwavering. Did a brief moment of knowing also impart from him? With his mask and complete control over his outward appearance, it was rather difficult to tell.

Whatever the Emperor intended, he had the advantage. It didn't matter, Persevus had to help and they all knew it. Typhojem was loose, even he could feel that, and there was nothing else to be done except for this. Because clearly it was something that Insipid thought would help counter even an ancient Sith God. Oh, he knew all about Typhojem all right. Like Insipid, he had done his research though alone. Granted, it seemed the Emperor knew a bit more than he.

"Off we go then."

Persevus' eyes narrowed but watched as the two clasped hands and began speaking in an ancient dialect while he and the others kept up their force presence. What were they saying? He couldn't tell and he knew much about the Sith and their history. Another irking detail.

It was Sith, of that there was no question. Certain inflections of the tongue was undeniable, but it was not a particular dialect he could place. To him it was all over the place, an amalgam of nonsense and complete incoherence at other moments. Truly grating, but again he was locked in aid.

This was Insipid and Samhain's show. While the lack of information was annoying, he supposed he should be honored. Usually he deigned to watch history unfold from afar, with none knowing of his existence outside very few. Now he got to watch it from the front seats and take part himself in a mild way. That last detail was still iffy to him.

As the chant finally culminated…Samhain was extinguished. Out like a light. But so too, was Insipid. A mutual death, but with the Sith and in the orbit of Mortis now, anything was truly possible. Was the Emperor truly dead?

I highly doubt that.

Sure enough, within seconds his presence was still there and expanding down to the surface of the planet that Typhojem resided in. And now it clicked. He had pulled a Vitiate, though more completely.

Darth Insipid the God of the Sith. My, my…So that was his aim and now I see.

Leaning against the wall due to the strain of the ritual that had pulled on them all, he borrowed from the power radiating off of him. From the numerous upon numerous of dark side artifacts he had gathered and wore to multiply his power many times.

With the aid of power from names such as Darth Revan and Marka Ragnos to Asajj Ventress to even Darth Sidious himself (to name a few), they restored his energies. He was unparalleled at relic hunting, he was sure the rumored about Lorekeeper would have fainted had he known the true depths of what he had found and learned in his time. In any event, with such a ritual, even that restoration took time. Much longer than usual, though he was on his feet faster than the other two. He took one look at them and simply walked away to gaze out a viewport to the planet below for a moment to allow them to finish recovering.

"I do hope you remember whom gave you your newfound divinity, God-Emperor. At least, should you survive this fight," he whispered to himself.

He suspected the other two were going to have trouble entirely realizing their part in current events and would for some time. But not he. There was a reason Samhain's gaze lingered on him the most throughout the ritual.

And it was for various reasons he suspected, not just one or two a normal person would think. But he would give no thought to them, just incase his mental barriers were still lower than normal. Information was power and he did not endeavor to gift freebies to Titus and Draco. Especially not the latter. But again, his focus returned to the present.

His eyes showed him Mortis. The Force showed him the two gods standing before each other, one annoyed and one laughing in exhilaration. And why not? They had just achieved godhood!

His mind kept his opinions on the matter, whether envious, afraid, angry, proud, or even fiercely devoted to this new God; tightly shut. Who knew where Persevus truly stood. Indeed, no one ever knew exactly where he stood on anything.

It was time.

"Ready yet?" he suddenly mused quietly. His voice was low, but its strength great. "The next part of the ritualistic strategy is for us to combine our power with my new knowledge and fling Typhojem away from Mortis to give Insipid and the others time."

He turned, the cloak of Sidious himself swishing with his movement and dancing with electricity up and down its length. This much was all obvious to him now. Why else go through with everything the now God-Emperor had done. No wonder he had been so eager to sniff him out and bring him to aid in everything.

The lone wolf Sith Lord didn't care if the others wished to follow his orders or not. It didn't matter, because they would.

"Just start focusing on the Force one more time and meld with my mind, I'll show you the way…"

Unfortunately, they didn't get far. Before the two gods began to battle it out in earnest, Typhojem's presence had noted them explicitly and stretched to meet them on board the Stardust. Even Persevus shivered, recoiling.

Just like that, with a dark divine thought their attempt failed. It was with extremely good fortune that Typhojem decided to focus on larger issues than them individually. For now.

With a sigh, he simply turned away and broke the Mind Meld. "Never mind, it is no use. Our enemy discovered our secondary plans before He was thoroughly distracted."

Now we simply wait to see whether victory is gained or we all die.

But he didn't say that out loud, he'd let them figure it out for themselves. He almost idly wanted to rage at the fact that he was now brought out into the line of fire of Typhojem himself…but what was the point? Even had he stayed away, everywhere was in the line of fire for a God. Perhaps it was best to be in the thick of things and that way he was receiving intel even faster than he normally did.

Shoving himself down onto the pilot's seat in the cockpit, he watched in the Force as God battled God. Insipid was nearly wiped from existence, but then painstakingly returned just before it completed then countered with dramatic power, ripping a very hole in what appeared to be dimensions.

Persevus shook his head. Throughout all his travels, throughout all he had learned and done, all that he had seen with his eyes and through his visions. Nothing compared to this. The power on display was dizzying, but he couldn't look away. How could he? Not only did all of existence rest on this conflict, but it was too awe-inspiring.

Darkness. True Darkness.

And that was when, right before the breach closed, many lives seemed to reappear. One of which was…Darth Manticore. He whose death he had felt not long ago and had both regretted and rejoiced over. The zabrak's strength clearly denoted him as a historical candidate. One of his trinkets would be his!

…That plan was now dashed even if their enemy was defeated. Persevus had to admit he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He couldn't retrieve an artifact from Manticore, yet the man was alive for him to annoy further in the future (supposing there was a future of course). They didn't know each other intimately, but well enough in their occasional meetings in the galaxy and he had found the Battle Lord immensely fun to toy with due to his stoic countenance.

Wait. There was another. Darth Cruor! Another whose level of historical candidacy had been assured and indeed, he was one he was actively searching for an artifact from right before all this had happened. His mask specifically. But now the Gen'Dai Sith also lived again.

…Setbacks, oh how we Sith must eternally endure them. But I will have my artifacts from them both someday.

And as things began to wind down, Typhojem wounded and taking time to recover, Insipid doing the same though he suspected many others thought him dead for the time being, and the remnants of the Sith being boarded onto a shuttle and fleeing the planet. Heading straight for the Stardust. So, escape was their plan.

And how do you plan to escape a God? …There must be another plan or this is foolishness.

Sighing, he helped engage the docking procedure between the two shuttles as he was the one by the cockpit. Reduced to no more than a mere pilot, though that wouldn't be for long. By the time it was finished, Insipid was quite clearly alive to everyone's senses.

As the Sith began to storm into the yacht of Aryan Graul's, Persevus moved to watch the Triumvirs come aboard and divvy up the last of the Sith silently, his hands clasped behind him.

He nodded once to Bellorum, who like nearly everyone else, he had never met before. That was part of the point of his actions, but again, desperation changed things. She'd probably wonder who the kriff he was due to natural lack of recognition, but also from his strength in the Dark Side that would be clear to one of her level. But there was no time for chatter, not now. Any discussion between the lovely Sith Lady and himself would have to wait for another time, depending wholly upon survival.

He merely stared at Haretisch, when he came aboard. His actions were well known to him by that point, indeed, he had quietly discussed it before the first ritual with Insipid. Persevus made no initial move of respect yet nor did he show any disrespect to the man, he was wholly neutral. Persevus' trademark enigma on display.

The view of the monstrously mutated Chancellor, yet infused with a weakened Insipid at the same time, was slightly disorienting to say the least when they appeared. But after a few minutes, he understood their situation well.

He approached Aryan-Insipid swiftly, knowing the Triumvirate planned to speak in private, he could sense it clearly. Nor was it surprising, he would desire the same in their shoes.

"I return the Stardust to you, Chancellor. And I believe congratulations are in order God-Emperor…I shall leave you to your discussion now. We will have much to speak about later I imagine."

He bowed once to the three of them, then moved to a separate room to meditate quietly in as they talked and finished their placements of people aboard the shuttles and their continual retreat from Mortis.

So much more death was occurring all over the galaxy and even he found it hard to continue concentration admittedly. This wasn't darkness at this point, no Dark Side to feed upon. No, it was just death. Pure death. The embodiment of Anti-existence as Typhojem had always been described as being in all the texts, holocrons, and ruins he had come across over the years.

And that made it apparent that the God had finally recovered enough, but was merely letting them feel his power further before ending them completely. But for how much longer?

Persevus gritted his teeth. It was time to make a move, Triumvirate. New God or not, they were all running out of time. And then he felt a faint glimmer of Typhojem on board. But it was not him, that much was certain.

What did that mean? Why? So they did have a plan, yet what was it?

The only way for a trace of the God to be here without being him…Ah. So that was it. Yet, how would that help? Indeed, would that not call to him soon?

Persevus sighed and forced himself to just wait. The Triumvirate would do something and he'd have to find out when the time came. Thankfully, it wasn't long and while the Triumvirs struggled with the small bit of essence from the God while doing…whatever they planned to do, Persevus would lend his aid. He gifted each of the three with his own strength in the Force, helping in stabilizing them so they could finish their unknown task. And in turn did he feel the strain.

What the kriff are those three doing!? …Hurry it up!

He listened to Insipid's final speech and his brow furrowed behind the mask of Revan, his thoughts again his own.

And then they lurched through time and space. One last time had they surprised him and he was grateful it was over, letting go of his assistance and settling onto the chair he had placed himself.

There would be words with the Triumvirs for this. There would most certainly be words.

****
They had no chance of heading into hyperspace and the two shuttles of the Stardust and Allotrope, the former being the one he continued to haunt; continued to limply make its way through space toward the closest star system.

And Darth Persevus was stuck with them for the time being. He was alive, whole, and now in an entirely new universe as he understood it. But he was confined with the remnants of the Sith Order.

He wasn't used to it and quite honestly, it made him feel rather twitchy. Was it truly terrible? Not really, but it was an uncomfortable zone for him all the same. There were two reasons for his name.

One was Perseverance. And of that, he again accomplished with the aid of the Triumvirate's final plan. But of the other definition…It clashed with his ideals.

So he kept himself confined to the room he had ushered himself into for the duration of their aimless flight with only a few exceptions, his presence confusing everyone around though he did not stop to speak with any outside the Triumvirate and once with the Battle Lord (the only time he stepped onto the Allotrope briefly). Often he sat in meditation, ruminating on everything that transpired and finally connecting the dots with what information he had before and what he had presently.

And then finally came the day they reached Nirauan. When he heard of a planet finally in sight, he made for the cockpit immediately to watch as they descended to its surface silently.

In the following days after that and the Sith began to attach itself to the Empire of the Hand out of necessity and thereby revealing when they were in this new universe, the reclusive Lord sought an audience with the Triumvirate. Privately.

And in that meeting between the four of them, an ominous conversation of the Dark Side took place. Their power swirled between their auras and temporarily held thrall of any natural predator nearby, twisting their minds just from their meeting.

It ended amicably between them, but its ramifications for all else in the galaxy including the other Sith members? Just what was said between them? Who knew. Who knew indeed.

But later that night, before even Manticore and his apprentice Invidius made their own way into the galaxy…a lone modified TIE Interceptor made its subtle departure into the unknown of space. The man behind the dark mask remained as elusive as ever with quiet, mysterious intent.

And Darth Persevus…persevered.

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