Star Wars CLOSED Aftermath and Beginnings

Aftermath and Beginnings

It is the Apocalypse. It is also years after. With the disappearance of the Triumvirate, High Lords, and the heart of the New Sith Order, the Great Sith Empire collapsed into hundreds of competing Sith regimes, lording over a shattered Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. Eternal Sith battles encompass the galaxy, as they re-tread the steps that release the rest of the Old Ones.

Kesh stands apart from the violence, isolated by its bruising over a century ago by Abeloth. High Lord Takaris Yur slowly rebuilt their numbers, the coordinates of Kesh kept secret by a single former member of the One Sith, who had found them and kept it a secret for himself. Whilst they were allowed to contribute to various Sith regimes of his creation, now their world is merely a waypoint. The past has affected them in more ways than one, and so a Herald stands to ferry those who wish to leave to the new world; this realm is ruined, having splintered off from the true world-line, and so its destruction is a matter of inevitability, if the factions of Sith here manage to survive that long.

Darth Insipid doubts that they will.

He does not reach out into this realm, not any longer, no. He merely acts as the Herald between life and death, taking those left in the World of the Dead, back to the world of Light.

He meets them here.

The Master, to nobody in particular.

---
This is a Between place.

The New Sith Order left the universe of Legend in 165 ABY, heading for an alternate reality where the Old Ones could not reach them. This universe is dead, although that death has yet to reach every world-line.

The realm where Luke missed the shot to destroy the Death Star; the realm where Luke died on Hoth; the realm where Kyle Katarn became Emperor; the realm where the Empire won the Galactic Wars; the realm where Jaden Korr became Dark Lord of the Sith after resurrecting Marka Ragnos, and more besides. These off-shoots have all died, been suffocated, been erased, though the destruction here has yet to reach all realities and narrow them down to one.

Darth Insipid knows this.

He also knows that in leaving this realm by way of Mortis he had separated himself in two. That a tether to this world-line remained. Until recently, he could not ascertain why. Was it his role to teach the broken Sith how to be True Sith? Or was it to engender the death of the cosmos by Sith hands rather than the Old Ones?

No. It is the same role that Darth Traya took millennia ago - to guide the way to the True Sith.

And so Darth Insipid stood, waiting until the Force guided Sith to him. He would defend the Tribe and Keshiri as if they were his own; and he would build them anew to be Protectors of the way Between, as they had always sought to be; to fight the Destructors as was their prophecy, their lie, and now their reality and Truth.

He stood atop the grounded Omen, the 5,000 year old Sith Dreadnaught which had carried the Sith to Kesh, which had been repaired and then broken anew in the tumult of the war against Abeloth and trapped them here again. Darth Insipid stared into the sky, unable to see the stars through the magnetic field, for he could sense someone was coming.

He wondered what their name was. And so, he turned around, and headed into Tahv.

He may as well meet them where there was hot café.

—

This is a private RP between Sinrebirth and @darthbernael. It acts as an ABYverse crossover point and continuity aside.

It is also being observed by the Master, of course.



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An unmarked, albedo blackened Fury class Interceptor appeared out of hyperspace, inbound to Kesh. Contacting the Control system, it received permission to land at the spaceport in Tavh. A short time later, engines revving in pitch as it touched down, landing where instructed.


The sound of engines died down as Keshian guards surrounded the ship, the occupant was unknown to them, so must be cleared before being allowed further than the spaceport. After a brief pause, the landing ramp lowered and the guards braced themselves, knowing the being emerging could be anything, Sith or otherwise.


Then their sense of danger flared as the owner of the ship began walking down the ramp. As he came into view, first seen would be black armor, with set in midnight blue runes of protection, covered by a shifting colored cloak, mimicking everything it passed, obscuring the shape of the figure. Finally fully in view, the cowl was pulled up and a featureless black mask covered the face.


As the cloak shift with the being’s stride, lightsabers would come into view on either side of his hips, letting the guards know they faced a Force user. The unmistakable waves of pure malevolence emanating from the figure likewise caused the guards to know they faced something that would not hesitate, should violence occur.


Coming to the bottom of the ramp, the mask tilted to one side, paused, then straightened again. “I assume you are the welcoming party.” a low, monotone voice stated from behind the mask. “Then let us get this over with, as I have further business this day.” Striding forward, the figure would be flanked by the guards, headed to the Security office, and the inevitable questions before he could continue.


The guards flanked the being from the ship. All they knew was that he had not revealed his physical self, beyond his voice. He was, apparently, a Sith of some type but species or rank they did not know. Keeping their distance, yet still close enough should the being attempt to flee, they marched forward toward the main building.


Arriving and entering, they took him to a secure chamber. Entering, the mask again tilted to one side for a moment as if the being were studying the chamber before returning upright, a low chuckle being the only other response. The being took a seat at the only table, statuelike, awaiting what may come.


Shortly, the Commander of the spaceport arrived, sitting opposite the being. “I will be blunt, as my time is valuable. Who are you and why have you come here?”


Again a low, dark, chuckle sounded and the being responded “I am Darth Bernael, and as to why I have come, you may want to contact your superiors quickly, as I was invited here.”


The Commander signalled to one of the guards just inside the door. The guard left, presumably to the communications center, returning a few minutes later, out of breath as he entered the chamber. Moving swiftly to the Commander, there was a whispered exchange and the Commander waves him back to his post.


“Apologies, it does seem you are expected. Your entrance paperwork is being processed now and, as soon as it is done, you are free to continue.” The being sat there, in its statuelike state as the time passed, until another functionary appeared, entering the room and handing the Commander a flimsy. The Commander glanced at it, stood, moved around the table, and handed the flimsy to the figure in the seat. “Your paperwork is in order, and your ship is safe at the spaceport. You are clear to continue what business you have.”


The figure stood, tucking the flimsy inside the cloak, turned, and without a word, exited the chamber. Moving as if he already knew the way, he headed to the exit of the spaceport. He knew the being he was here to meet was waiting for him to arrive. Better not to make that being unhappy with the delay. As he exited the spaceport, he felt the sun of this world on the mask he wore. ‘Another world, another time, but I continue.’ he thought as he headed for the taxi ranks.


As he walked, he studied the area around the spaceport. It seemed typical of many worlds he had visited before, vendors hawking goods to newly arrived visitors, the usual guards and thieves, the occasional Sith looking disdainfully at every other being that was lower in station to they. The air buzzed with noise, voices, animal sounds in the distance, spaceship engines revving and idling on the other side of the spaceport, the occasional hum of a lightsaber flaring. Likewise, the mental noise was filled with chatter, many minds, most not force users, chattering their ‘private’ thoughts. Occasional silence as he passed other Sith, their minds locked shut, keeping their secrets to themselves.


Finally he reached the taxis. Heading toward the droid controller, he dodged other beings as he advanced. Reaching the droid, he told it his final destination and awaited the shuttle to take him to his appointment. A cafe was an unusual place for two Sith to meet, but he had met others in much rougher locations than a cafe in a capital city.


As the taxi travelled to his destination, the being eyes the city and the plain visible between the gaps in the buildings. He had studied this world as he travelled here. He knew the capital had seen the rise and fall of various masters, some of the story of the Lost Sith, among other things. He was sure there would be much more to learn as time passed.


The taxi grounded and, as he stepped out, he surveyed the street. It seemed clean and relatively busy, a typical street in just about any city in the galaxy. All types of beings went about their business on various forms of transport. Before him was the cafe he had sensed he would be meeting the other Sith.


He waited outside, having swept the cafe with his mind he knew the one he was to meet had not arrived yet. The weather was pleasant at the moment so the wait was not uncomfortable. Letting his senses drift around the city, he could feel the presence of other Sith, among the crowds of non Force users. Here and there minor talents either attempted to hide their small flame or used it in whatever way they could to assist them in their lives.


He had come, not entirely sure of what he would find here, but in all his years he had learned that the galaxy had many things to offer and the only way to find them was to go and experience them. While musing, he sensed what had to be the Sith he was here to meet heading for the cafe.

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A tug in the Force drew Bernael’s attention to the inside of the cafe, where a hooded figure was even now sitting - where he had previously not been. The Force echo of him outside the cafe vanished, and there was only the one inside, amiably sitting.

Not illusion, no, just misdirection.

Two cups were already set out, and one was half drank. An ornate glass teapot was evident, and the Keshiri host, beautiful in a very human way, rushed to the door when the shadowed man jerked his chin up.

“My, my Lord, you have been expected,” she said, opening the door for him. There was a multitude of species present in the busy cafe, and seemingly had paid no need to the Shadow in the corner, but at least half of them had noticed the tall and imposing presence of Bernael.


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A sigh was the only response from Bernael when the figure approaching disappeared. ‘Of course the one I’m here to meet is more learned in the Force’ he thought as he felt the tug emanating from inside the cafe.

As he entered, the hostess greeted him, “My, my Lord, you have been expected.” As she spoke he felt the stares of the other patrons wondering who this cloaked and masked newcomer could be. He allowed the hostess to lead him to the table where the Shadow was seated. At the table, the seated figure waited patiently, two cups and a teapot were placed, one cup before the seated figure, and one at the open seat across from the Shadow.

Seating himself, “I felt the draw here, Lord. I have seen many Sith organisations over the eons, so I wonder why this one has drawn my interest.” As spoke the teapot lifted, unaided, from table, pouring liquid into the cup before him. For the nonce, he let it sit before him, not wishing to remove his mask yet.

“It’s been a time since I chose to interact with any civilisation on more than an individual to individual basis. A pleasure to meet you Lord, I am Darth Bernael, although I suspect you knew that from the moment I entered.”

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“Hmmm,” the man said, stirring his tea absently. “Darth Bernael.”

“The weapons smith and assassin...” he said, purring. “I heard you were dead. Executed, for sedition.”

A smile rippled out into the Force, but was not evident in the shadows of the cowl.


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"That which lives may never truly live and that which dies is never truly dead." Bernael began his response to the Lord in front of him in this way. He could sense that this Sith, this Lord Insipid, had access to a great deal of the goings on and knowledge of the galaxy. He felt the humor behind the question, as though the Lord already knew the answer but wished to hear it from him.

"I have been a weapons smith and yes am an assassin, but the stories of my death are not what they seem. I am sure you know what I am, so it should be no surprise that I would find a way to not be destroyed by those who chose to believe I acted against their interests."

As he spoke, Bernael sat calmly in his seat. He could feel the patrons around them, their curiosity that two Sith would be seen outside their usual habitats, among the others of this world. Not just curiosity but fear as well.

It was expected but they still did not know what he was and that would cause more than fear, as would the revelation of who it was he was meeting. He knew the name and knew the being was one to respect.

"Suffice it to say, I survived and have been travelling the galaxy." As he finished, he sat back, still ready to move at a moment's notice, and reached for the cup, swirling it around as he held the stem in the palm of his hand.


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Insipid pulled back his cowl, revealing his red glowing eyes and bald, tattooed visage. “I like to keep an eye on things.”

He shifted the cup, peering at the tealeaves. “This realm is doomed anyway. Even without the Great Sith Empire in pieces.” For a brief moment, shadows seemed to line his face. “I’ve experienced it.”

A shrug. “It is irrelevant, now.” The room was staring. “Are you intending to have a drink, my old apprentice?”


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As with Lord Insipid, a small half smile seemed to ripple through the Force. The cup in his hand set down, Bernael reached up with both hands, and pulled back the cowl, settling it on his shoulders. When he did it revealed long black hair, pulled up and held back by a clasp, shaped as a blooming flower, shading from darkness to light.

Again reaching up, slowly removing the mask, as suspected the whispers began as his face came into view. His kind were not widely found in the galaxy, but at least one patron recognised what he was and the news of that spread rapidly through the cafe. The terror that followed those whispers prevented any of the patrons from leaving, prey frozen in fear of the sudden appearance of a different sort of predator in their midst.

"Yes, my old Master, I believe I will have that drink now." Bernael reached out again, lifting the cup, scenting the notes of spices and aromas in the liquid before taking a small sip. His mind reached out and quieted the whispers, erasing the thought of what he was from the minds of the patrons as he drank. He cared not for the repugnance evinced by those around him but the mental noise annoyed him.

"You are correct, it is irrelevant now. It is but another ground to dust by the advance of time and ambition of those who do not learn from history."

Looking into the cup as he swirled it gently, he could see the events he had lived through and wondered what the future here would bring.


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Insipid had expected a wave of terror, but not much else. Bernael was more pragmatic than hungry, and it was that relentless pragmatism had appealed most to Insipid long before he had taken the Anzati on. Volcryn had been near lordship anyway, and that good man need not be held back, not when Insipid had found a kindred spirit.

Typically it was an entity considerably older than he, and similarly learned. Insipid took that as an almost complement to himself, and brushed aside the vanity. Insipid had been fortunate to learn so much, at the feet of Krayt, of Lumiya, of Haretisch, of Lomi Plo, of Gorog’s Holocron, and of course the rest.

Insipid watched Bernael peer into his cup, and reasoned that he was looking into the past and the future too. Pouring another tea, Insipid gestured vaguely for another teapot. The Keshiri rushed over and Insipid flipped a coin to the servant, who caught it and nodded. “So what next for you, my friend,” he looked over his teacup at Bernael as he sipped.


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Waiting until the server left to fill Lord Insipid’s order, Bernael thought about the question he’d been asked before responding. Taking a sip, he set the cup back on the table before looking back up. “I have seen much of this galaxy, seen Empires and Republics rise and fall in their own hubris. The cycle of history is becoming predictable and somewhat boring. However, I do not desire to return to my homeworld and simply become a trainer of the young before they too entered the galactic stage.”

Pulling the cowl back up, bringing his face into shadow, he sipped again at the tea before it cooled too much. “I felt a pull in this direction, one with elements of potential that I have not felt in quite some time. I suspect there is much that can be learned, a path that is not stuck on the wheel of time and entropy that the galaxy has embraced. After the last, when I followed a tug in the Force that led to some things of great potential but otherwise the same entropic forces, it does take something of that intrigue in potential to make me move on from simply studying and removing artifacts of power from their locations before unworthy others stumble upon them.”

Silver eyes looked up at his old Master, remembering the days of learning from him. “Knowledge is Power, and many there are who desire the Power without the requisite knowledge. Finding you at the end of the path the Force laid before me is somehow unsurprising. But having found you here, it does tell me this path is one that has much that could give me much to do and learn, for a long time.”

As the server returned, Bernael finished the tea in his cup, set it back down and waited for the server to pour Lord Insipid a fresh cup before taking a new cup for himself. “So, is this path something you believe would give one such as I the experiences I look for?”

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“I might,” Insipid replied, shortly, but not just coyly. “Though your reply was as much question as it was answer.” He idly stirred his tea, adding a sugar cube, and then another. He drew back his teeth into a grin.

“It largely depends on you,” Insipid said with a smile, wagging the glass-spoon at Bernael as if lecturing a child. “On whether you are able to move forward, or need to glance backwards, not as a historian, but as a tethered soul.” The Sith Lord shrugged. “You and I may as well have choreographed this meeting, my old friend. You already know what I shall ask next, for you know me well - I shall not be so banal as to outright ask, but you will need to answer that.”

He raised the cup. “I will be remaining here to light the way for any Sith abandoning what has become of the Great Sith Empire. Dozens upon dozens of factions, a cloying mess of in-fighting that makes the New Sith Wars look enlightened.” A dark chuckle.

“My role here is to be Herald, now. Neither Night or Day. The Twilight Herald, perhaps,” Insipid realised he had rambled, replacing his cup and opting for a biscuit dipped. “So the way will always be open and I expect you will do your part, if the need arises.” A snort. “I do not dictate the fates of the Sith I guide; a cult of personality I do not lead. Connect, or reconnect, but never attach yourself to the point that it undoes you...”

“Anzati or not,” Insipid said, with a knowing smile.


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Sitting back, speaking to Lord Insipid and hearing his words, a tiny twitch at the corner of his lip was the only sign that betrayed the, even minimal, enjoyment he found in speaking with his old Master once again. At the pause in the response to his question, he reached up, fingers barely grazing the clasp at the back of his head.

“As I remember, you do know how to ask the questions that truly matter. I do know the unasked, but hinted at, question. Much of what happened in that Empire was as you said. One part however, had its roots in something more.” Noticing that his fingers continued to stroke the clasp, he lowered his hand, took up the cup of tea, and sipped at it again, before he continued.

“You know the crux of what lead to the apparent execution. The one who I found a bond with. As you know my kind well, you do know that the seeming lack of emotion is just that. Truly we feel, but have trained ourselves to the edge that we suppress those feelings to the point of not even experiencing them. However, we can occasionally find ourselves bonded to another, one who is the counterbalance, perhaps, to what we are. I did find such and, in it, it was an experience I could not forget.” As he spoke, Bernael could see in his mind the being he referenced.

“There was much wrapped up in the departure from that realm. Not just as I already said but also in regard to that being. The loss, which to one bonded is not an easy loss even for my kind, the initial feeling of perceived betrayal, and then the discovery that in their trust of the system what they knew of me had been used to fit the purposes of the rulers and that no betrayal had occurred. Yes the past is past, and what was once found may be found again, and if that one should choose to find me once again, I know they would do so solely out of the desire to keep the bond, not for any loyalty to that system they too departed.” Gathering his thoughts once again, he finished the tea before him, pouring a fresh cup before continuing.

“As to whether it may hold me back or not, I am what I am. Should she choose to follow our bond to find me, I would still do my part, as I always do. To be honest, if she does follow, you would, perhaps, even find a deepening of my ability to contribute. Should she not do so, she will be a part of me for as long as I exist and I will still contribute to the best of the abilities you know well. In that eventuality, you would find I continue as I do now and, having had such a bond, I would remain the solitary being you remember from days gone by.”

“Knowing her so well, I know she has abandoned that system, and why. Any motive she would have for coming here would be similar to mine. For one not Anzati she has many characteristics of one. Hence how such a bond could even form. I know she did not set out, even at the end of my time there, to undo me or what we had. I cannot speak for her but this is the first I’ve worn what you know to be one of two talismans that allow us both to feel and know how each is doing, or even had it near my person, since I left that place, which also means this is the first she would know I continue to live.”

Seeing the young Sith in his mind he could almost feel her shock that he still existed, even as he spoke to Lord Insipid. He could, likewise, almost feel her straining through the bond to sense where he was, to find a way there so she could know he truly still lived.

“I suspect, should she find her way here, she would be of great value. And not just in what she and I share.”


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Insipid steepled his hands, the tea forgotten. Things were moving quickly, and Insipid had expected as much. It was why he had followed the chord in the Force back to Bernael. Inevitability was what it was, and an old apprentice was a bond that could never be truly abandoned nor lost.

For the briefest moment, Darth Insipid saw the interconnectedness of it all, girdling the galaxy, but he released them - he was not interested. He was the Herald now, that’s all. He had no interest in what was here, just the Sith within it. As individuals. As personalities. And their future. Insipid had came to have ambition for his students, and he had found his life all the simpler for it. He would defend what he had for them, and nobody could stop him from doing that. The future was not his anymore; he had been Emperor, Dark Lord, God - once, briefly - but now he was free to protect what truly mattered to him - the Order.

For a brief moment, he accepted what the Keshiri called him, and embraced his role as Protector. Then he let it go, refocusing on Bernael, adopting a seriousness.

His hands he lifted, as if scales. “You and I, and then, you and her. You tell me that both are separate, but I sense the balance - I welcome it, my old apprentice. You need not separate them, and I welcome all.”

His eyebrow raised. “She’s not far from Kesh, not really. Isn’t that... fortuitous?” Insipid grinned, almost innocently.


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Sipping once more from the tea Bernael sat back as he observed his old Master as he was momentarily lost in his thoughts. Time had passed, much had occurred since last they had been in a setting where they both had been present. Having been found by Lord Insipid, he knew that whatever was to come was worth having followed the trail if such a Sith was involved.

Lord Insipid's eyebrow raised. “She’s not far from Kesh, not really. Isn’t that... fortuitous?” and he grinned, almost innocently.

Another miniscule grin touched Bernael's lips then, just as rapidly as it appeared, it vanished again. "I do know where she is, can feel where she is anywhere in the galaxy, and can feel her speeding her way here. Someday I must tell you how we realised she now owns a ship I once owned."

"After having dealt with the beliefs of old systems pardon my partitioning of thought when it comes to a system and what she and I share. It is heartening, and I know she will feel the same, that the two need not be separate." As he spoke Bernael could feel her approaching to land on Kesh. Feel her frustration at the delay having to go through Customs added.

A sparkle touched his eyes as he said "I suspect you will be receiving another communication from the port shortly, that another unknown Sith has landed here and states that they have business in Tavh."


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“Tahv, my old apprentice,” Insipid noted, hearing the slight adjustment Bernael had made. “Oh - I have let the portmaster know to expect her, though I’ve yet to meet her in person...” a wan smile.

He gestured lazily to the server; the cafe had otherwise emptied of people - indeed, time seemed to be dilating, and the sun was several hours away from where it been before. The Keshiri had been replaced with another, just as beautiful as before - millennia of genetic culling of the humans and Keshiri here had resulted in the most attractive genes being bred into the masses. You could almost tell an outsider by how... normal, they looked.

But Bernael and Insipid were hardly normal, by any definition. He absently stirred the cup, looking into the ripples. “The True Sith,” he muttered, softly. “That is what I offer; a place among them, for you to carve out.”


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Nodding his head at the correction, Bernael acknowledged that he had misspoken the name of the capital city. Once again he swirled the tea in the cup, while he pondered what was to come.

He noticed, as he sat in thought, that the cafe was becoming less noisy, both audible and in the mental spectrum. He glanced around and saw that most patrons had quietly left. Letting his senses expand, he felt the time that had passed as he and Lord Insipid had sat here speaking. Between the time and the fact that the two Sith had chosen this place to meet it was unsurprising that business had slowed.

As the server approached the table, Bernael left his introspection. “That is good to hear, her arrival will be less waiting on functionaries than mine was. The episode was, hmmm, somewhat expected as I know bureaucracies but it was cleared up quickly. And she is often somewhat more...hasty... in dealing with such than I.” The last was said with a glint to his eyes again.

“The True Sith, I have heard snippets but I do look forward to finding a place, carving one out as you said, and contributing as I can.” He broke off for a moment as he felt the fiery, strong, presence of Claiomh as she exited her ship and prepared to find her way from the spaceport to the cafe. “I should say we, but I will let Claiomh speak for herself.”

He lifted the tea, feeling it had cooled some he channeled some Force energy into his palm, allowing the heat from doing so to warm the tea, before he lifted it to his lips and sipped once more. “You know my skill and what I am able to do so I foresee a bright future with the True Sith, as I create and am allowed to carve my place out among them.”


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Insipid absently noticed the rattle of his tea, of the glass ornaments and cups and teapots. With a steady hand he stilled it all, flexing a hand to freeze the occupants in place so their panic did not spill into the Force and alarm anyone - all the while aware of the rage and suspicion pouring from the young lady.

His eyes were purely on Bernael.

Glowing red, then golden, then shifting to pale blue, before again returning to blazing red. Insipid didn’t even turn to look at the woman. He simply turned upward one of the four teacups that had originally been on the table, meaning that one remained facedown.

It was their moment. For a time, Insipid was the interloper.

A brief time.


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Bernael had felt Claiomh’s rage, her disbelief that their reunion would happen here. He knew his mate and knew she would be confused, that she expected their reunion to be private, something only they shared. He felt, not just through the bond but through his body as her speeder screamed up to the cafe, slamming to a stop. He heard her enter, her anger at two Sith sitting there, one possibly imitating the Anzat she loved. If he had not felt Lord Insipid still the patrons he would have done so himself.

He heard her thoughts raging as she entered ‘I make my own destiny,’ her mind raged as she tossed open the doors of the café. Her cloak flaring, the shining flash of metal revealing for a moment her sabers. ‘Whatever is here, whatever trickery meets me, I will meet with my sabers and slice into a thousand pieces.’ Her emotions ranged from pain, to anger, to hope burning hotter than any forge or saber blade.

She walked towards the figures. Her mind reaching out into their bond. “Bernael,” she spoke. “Is it truly you, or will two assassins die by a Marauder’s blades, today.”

Bernael looked up and saw Lord Insipid watching, leaving them their time, for now. Without turning, still looking his old Master his eyes glittered, a tiny smile touched his lips. As she moved closer he stiffened slightly, betraying which of the two was who she sought. He reached out through the bond and sent her an image, a wall, the shadows of the fireplace dancing on the wall, occasionally glittering on metal bolts set high in it.

If that did not work, there were other ways to prove himself, but he was sure she knew that was only something he would know, only they had shared. That no other being would know or even consider that could be used to prove his identity.


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A mere fraction of a moment after Bernael sent the image, in the otherwise absolute silence of the cafe, he heard a choking whisper, “Bernael” and again it came, even more choked up “Bernael!” He heard Claiomh break into a run and as she did he stood, spinning in place. As he spun, the cowl dropped from his head, revealing his black hair flying in an arc and the glint of the clasp holding it in place.

He saw her heel catch, the chair slam into the table it was at, all its dishware flying to the ground, and Claiomh charging through the table between her and him. Her green eyes were misted in tears, her red hair streaming out behind her. Behind him he could sense Lord Insipid bracing the table and himself against what would transpire if Bernael did not stop her charge. Shifting one foot backward and turning it sideways, he prepared to take the impact. He could see the tears of joy streaming from her face even better now, the hope and truth of him standing before her burning brighter than a sun in her mind.

Lifting his arms for a moment, he began to spin and wrap his arms around and under her torso as she hit him, at speed. Spinning, he lifted her taking her with him in the spin, breaking her momentum. As they spun full circle and he body began to drop with the momentum draining away, her feet slid across the length of the table, clearing it in an instant of all that had stood upon it. Her feet touched the ground but for a second before he lifted her up so they were face to face.

“My Fleur, it is truly me. I yet live.” he quietly said as his silver eyes looked deeply into her emerald ones. Setting her feet upon the ground again he felt her fierce hug, the thought in her mind that she never wished to let go, sending his own completely similar thought through the bond. They stood like that, in the embrace, the talons of one hand stroking her long red hair, staring into each other’s eyes for several long moments, before he sensed a mental nudge from Lord Insipid.

He turned to introduce her to his old Master. Her peal of laughter as they did betrayed the emotion he held under the surface, that he did not show. The turn revealed the scene that had occurred as he broke her charge. An empty table, chairs scattered across the floor, teacups just gone, Lord Insipid sitting, cup in hand, his curiosity obvious in his expression.

“My old Master…” the slight cadence to his tone the only evidence of the emotion he withheld, “this is Claiomh, my mate.” He could feel her standing close, arm around him, but no less fierce in her composure than he knew of old. “I was sure she would find the path, follow the bond we share, as were you, and we were both correct.”

Looking over at the server Bernael gestured for her to approach, which she did gingerly, skirting the shards of teapot, teacups, and hot tea now littering the floor. As Lord Insipid had done hours earlier in the day, Bernael flipped her coin and nodded at the table. As she scurried off he knew she had understood the message.

Turning back to Lord Insipid, he knew his old master could see how welded he and Claiomh were to each other, not just in the fact they had not moved from the embrace, but on every level. He reached out through the Force, setting the chairs upright, two touching, before waiting for Claiomh to seat herself in one of those two, then sitting in the second, again returning to the embrace as he sat.

“Your words earlier were good to hear, Lord, as I know she, as I, would not wish to be separated again. And she is as of as much value to the True Sith as I will be, outside of what we bring together.”


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Lord Insipid still held his cup of tea, not a drop splashed, though his table was, admittedly, gone. It was rare for an Anzati to show emotion, and as such Insipid knew that it was genuine.

For the briefest moment Insipid thought of those he had loved and lost. Ardeur; Ike, and the hundreds of bodies he had grown attached to for the night. Insipid found himself smiling, softly.

“Welcome to Tahv, indeed.” He gestured and uprighted a table and chairs. He set down his cup. “We have much to discuss.”


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While the server was away, replacing the cups and teapot, Bernael sat, Claiomh against his side. It had been some time since they had sat such and, for a time, he had thought perhaps it might not have occurred again. While they composed themselves he heard his old Master and friend welcome her to Tahv.

He knew the discussion would involve them both, but for now he was content to let her make her introduction and catch up in the conversation. While sitting there, his mind reached out, collecting the shattered items, his eyes darkening slightly as he crafted a working. The pieces slowly shifted, the liquid solidified into glowing petals, and slowly the whole assembly came together. As he finished, the now completed flower drifted through the cafe and settled gently on her lap.

Looking over to Lord Insipid, his eyes returned to their silver coloration and a glimmer appeared momentarily. "Even in destruction something can be wrought from it. An omen for us moving forward, away from the cycle we discussed that this galaxy seems bent on following."


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“Destruction is the galaxies inevitable conclusion now,” Insipid said with a shrug. “It has already occurred. This reality is just the echo of what should have happened, not what is.”

“Eternal Sith violence and chaos is not just the only way forward. True Sith follow their hearts but also their cause. They have a succession, a leadership, a chain of rule. This is not a cult which has yet to see if it will survive the inevitable fall of an Emperor, no. It is an Order that we truly follow.”

“We welcome all the opportunity to prove themselves,” Insipid nodded. “But we also only offer this once. We have our exiles - you have met some of them. But we do not allow a return. So if you intend to leave this realm of rot, it will be a one-way journey back, my friends.”

He held up his arms, and the room was suddenly suffused with power. The air acquired a purple, liquid quality, as if they were sinking into the Dark.

The True Dark.

“The Triumvirate of Dark Lords, the Circle it High Lords, the Overlords, the Underlords, all unified in the True Sith - the New Sith Order, founded by the successors of the True Dark Lord, Darth Sidious, adherents of the Rule of One - the Order above all.”

He smiled slightly.

“We have discussed your arrival in advance of this moment. But we are Sith. We shall hold you to our standards and challenge you to keep them and meet them. I foresee that one day you will be Lords, perhaps even High Lords, and be powerful.”

His fingertips began to electrify, his open palms illuminating. His eyes closed, as if in prayer, in exultation of the True Way.

The Way of the Sith.


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As Darkness enveloped the room, Bernael sat, feeling the purity of it, the lessening of the concept of violence and individual ambition above all else that was the core philosophy of so many Sith Empires or organisations. Yes ambition and personal achievement was there, but earned through one’s works and how one contributed to the overall health and well-being of the Order itself.

He could sense the belief and faith in the Order in his old Masters words, now more the sound of a prophet than a teacher. ‘The Rule of One, following the way of all Sith united in a common purpose. A worthy goal.’ he thought as he listened to Lord Insipid continue. He was sure of the truth that their arrival had been discussed, had been pondered, the possible concern that beings such as he and Claiomh may not be as they seem. That was indeed the chance any Order, any Empire took when they brought in new blood, who had seen the decay of other civilizations.

Bernael knew his beliefs, his desire, and through their bond he could feel Claiomh’s matched his. “I have chosen this path, have left all but my mate in the past. I know the decay, the rot you speak of, and if this Order, the True Sith, truly offer this, and you have not led me wrong in the past, then I embrace it. I know how my mate feels of such, but she is her own being, no matter how closely we are bonded so I would not speak for her.”

As he spoke, he allowed a portion of his mind to open, allowing Lord Insipid to peer inside, to see the strength of conviction he was sure his old friend knew was there. He knew that the bond between him and Claiomh could be seen as well, and how it created an amalgam of both beings, how one’s feelings, thoughts, all emotion, pain, was felt and know, shared with the other. He allowed this so that his old Master and any other that may be observing this interchange would know and understand what and who they were bringing into their midst. He was sure that the Herald, as Lord Insipid was, would not be the only one judging their worth and ensuring what was brought into the True Sith was not a direbeast that would turn on them.

He let his mental shields reform, knowing he had shown what was at the core of his beliefs. He was a hunter, an assassin, a creator and in this new realm he was certain his skills would be put to use, that he could give much to this Order his old Master had drawn him to.


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