SithLore

With the departure of the Jedi an eerie calm swept over the broken wreckage of Tormentous’s temple. Surrounded by a score of his own kinsmen, trained as assassins, and broken to serve the former Dark Lord, Silas’s countenance grew dark. Reaching out with his left hand Silas recalled his helmet to his hand with not but a thought (Telekinesis). Looking back at the orchestrator of the climactic battle that had just occurred Silas scowled. ‘A usurper, a turncoat, one who’s strength lies not in arms but with subterfuge. Brought low his own order to achieve his own ends.’ Silas contemplated striking at the very heart of Blood’s assembled and very much postured strength.

The fragments of Tormentous’s greatest craft yet remained and Silas alone was capable of summoning them to his call. A single orb could sunder the great drake that likely granted Blood the confidence to assume the mantle from the deity of war. The resulting destruction would shatter the ranks of the assassins long enough for Silas to cull their number. However, as Silas began to be led toward the Sith Lord Blood a powerful thought permeated his consciousness. ‘To what end?’ It was true that of them Silas was indeed the mightier but that alone did not mean he held the necessary alliances or subservience to maintain control of the Sith.

Tormentous had been purposeful in his efforts and appointing Silas as High Priest had ramifications long after its enactment. In so much as the coming confrontation between Sith, it seemed the dreadful shadow of the former Tyrant still lingered. Reaching within five meters of the amalgamation of Tormentous’s experimentation with Sith Sorcery, Silas calm to a halt. Staring the beast down without a shred of fear or anxiety Silas spoke, “Much still remains unanswered in the departure of your former master. It would be wise for you to ascertain his fate.” Silas finished speaking, yet the serpent-like Sovereign took care to judge Blood’s countenance for any reaction to his words. After a moment to allow Blood a reply Silas decided to grant a follow up.

“It’s blatant that your desire is to rule. Though the Sith have operated always with the mantra of leadership passing to the most powerful.” A vile grin broke across Silas’s face as he spoke. “To remove any potential hostility or friction in your ascension to the throne I ask but two things be granted unto me. The first, a battle group, a portion of our fleet, be placed under my leadership. The second, outside of that force not a single Sith be allowed to so much as enter Sector N-8 for that is to be known as my domain.” Silas was sure the pact he offered would considered a trifle thing compared to an uncontested rule. No other Sith held enough influence or power as to bargain for anything from the rightful owner of the Jidai Maras. “You agree to my terms and I will kneel before you right here and now, proclaiming Blood as the new Dark Lord of the Sith.”

Blood had paused, very little running through his mind in regards to Silas or his existence. But once it registered to him that he had paused because of Silas’ existence, his thoughts had redirected to stare this issue in the face. Literally. The turn of a behemothian body, the dragging of a tail that weighed just as much as the average man, the drop of the Jidai Mara’s sword tip as he allowed it a piked rest on the stone floor, gigantuan fist locked around the handle. The pair of hellfires met the face of this scarred Priest, not only watching, but seemingly waiting for something worthwhile to come up.
And it seemed the wait was meant for the words which flew arrogantly from the mouth of the Echani.

“You say ‘our’ fleet, as though you are truly a Sith,” the draconian murmured through a vibrum of deep growls. “Yet you wish to keep ‘us’ out.” Blood studied the Echani with convince that this traitor was so desperate as to make his guile too obvious. “That alone proves you are unworthy to be helm of this faction.” Blood had committed so much to this life, his own life being born from the monstrous condemnation of Sith. Blood was crafted of Krynn’s penetration of awful grace, parasited off of Slade’s own mind and burst forth from Tormentous’ calling. He was no mere nickname that Sith were anointed with. He was a living entity of Dark Side’s most vile influence. Blood didn’t have to be the most powerful- he was choosing because of his ability to bide his time, and remain the succeeding opportunist. The Dark Side found you at your most weakest, and pulled you under by your own choice. This was how he so easily paired with Slade.

So for Silas to make such classic claims and selfish wishes, this was only expected. And Blood was not in the least surprised.

However this was an unfortunate placement for Blood. He was the head of this faction, by now default, The Dark Lord of the Sith. And that meant everything in this dealing was his own. Letting Silas have anything of his was simply ludacris; as the King of Dragons, this was his treasure he had worked hard to steal, and he cherished it. To part with it on Silas’ ultimatum was an underdog relinquishing to one of the betters.
And his pride would not allow it. Yet logically, he mused, this would prevent a future of revolt, the demise of the unfortunate souls forced to serve The Betrayer, possibly his own end.

Would it be worth going to war against your own?
Or was it worth defending your long awaited crown?

Because either way, Blood was going to catch up to Silas, and destroy the pitiful man.

“You are not one of us.” That much was for certain. Otherwise, Silas would have respected the decisions made this day without a selfish crave for toys and things to preserve his own lack. “You will have your fleet. Take it. And take with it your final gaze over Sith territory, as after you leave this place, you will no longer be given solace across any Sith plane. You, and the men and women you damn under your command within this fleet will be labeled as enemy of the Sith,” he began to finalize. “and should we find you or anything that belongs in your name, you will be eliminated.”

That was his bargain.

Blood began to turned to rest his stare across the throne. So much work to be done. And he had no Warvanus, no Dastan, no Raphael, no Lilith. Nothing and no one. Even Kroxata had perished along the strands of Time. But here Blood was, not even the first Apprentice of the Tyrant of Torment. And here he would remain.

Silas looked to the skies above the desert plains and shattered remnants that surrounded him and reached out through the Force. Looking back to Blood, the Sovereign once more donned his helmet and signaled Nil. “The tide is coming in. The floodgates have been weakened. Enjoy your rule.” With that Silas began to walk toward his private compound. It would take a week or so to reclaim the tools and equipment he had stored on Korriban. With Blood’s leniency Silas decided to use the “Fleet” granted him for a final mission to Kashyyyk.

It had been so long under the rule of Tormentous Silas had forgotten what true freedom felt like. Yet, with the Dark Lord deposed and the usurper on the throne the harrowing time for Eshan seemed to be past…for now. Of course without proper ties to a greater power any system was forfeit, Silas could only hope his efforts could maintain the balance he had achieved. Though, all in all the Sovereign could not simply alter his self so swiftly. Sith was not a designation that could simply be lifted by words, even if the heart of the faction had turned its back on Silas. The darkness he had dwelt in during Tormentous’s reign still remained in the heart of the Sovereign.