PRIVATE Dead and Dreaming

Discussion in 'Private Roleplaying' started by Darth Cerebrous, Jul 27, 2021.

  1. Darth Cerebrous

    Darth Cerebrous The Crawling Chaos
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    Gamajun
    380 ABY, Thule, Esstran Sector

    Kro Tosqer was dead. After half a decade of searching, the Republic had finally given up hope of finding the controversial politician. As his obituary circulated, many breathed a sigh of relief. For them, an era of darkness had finally ended. No more would the democratic system be debased by strongmen, no more would they live in fear of Imperialism. The late Senator-Emeritus would no longer wield a power that the masses feared… not openly at least.


    Kro Tosqer was dead, but Darth Cerebrous lived. It was a title he'd long held, and one he'd neglected just as long. For so long he had carried out the dreams of his master, but not the dreams of the Sith. Now all that remained for him was the wayward order, of which he was the black sheep. Now he returned to them.


    For two and a half centuries the planet Thule had been the last refuge of the Sith, hidden from the Jedi by many Dark Lords throughout history. When the Sith faced near extinction, the rulers of Thule had opened their arms wide. Not every Sith had been so lucky enough to make it, and myriad cults and tribes dotted the galaxy rejecting it, but those who settled on Thule were greeted with a taste of former glory. The whole world, it's people, its rulers, were distilled from the ancient empires. It had become standard practice for the planet's rich and powerful to keep exhaustive genealogical records and vast collections of artifacts to prove that pure Sith blood ran through their veins. All of those records, and a wealth of knowledge found nowhere else were held in the halls of the world's Great Library. If there was something to tie him back to the Sith, to help him truly understand the burden of the power he had, it was here.


    Its steps of fine, dark granite held no signs of wear despite the eons. Darth Cerebrous climbed them effortlessly even in his old age. The power of the Dark Side kept him young, hale, and vigorous as he crossed the threshold into Quarren elderhood, but he felt it slipping from him ever so slightly, day by day by day.


    The doors of the library opened before him, and he strode through the halls of studious acolytes, making his way towards the holocron vault. His master had only brought him to this world once before. The old man had been a wanderer, a renegade in the eyes of the Thuleans. He disavowed them, and they did the same in return. But Cerebrous had little care for whether they would accept him or not, for in his eyes it was his fate that was the fate of the galaxy...
     
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  2. Gamajun

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    Thule was much like her.

    An ancient survivor of light side crusades and purges, a dark beacon for those unafraid to venture past the point of no return and embrace the dark side.

    It had seen much, raising countless Sith, and melting into the shadows every time the Jedi had claimed victory. Different from the many isolated Sith cults lost across the galaxy that suffered from lack of organization and manpower, Thule continued to openly serve as a Sith fortress world. Hidden from the prying eyes and kept secret by those aware of its existence and location, the dark bastion continued to exist undisturbed by the outside galaxy.

    Currently going by the name Eisheth, the Miraluka librarian roamed Thule’s Sith library, scrolls in hand. Unbeknownst to all, the library’s caretaker was likely older than the library’s very foundations. She had always been there, haunting these halls; under different personas and varying backgrounds, yet always the same woman.

    Alongside it came the need to officially die and leave the responsibilities to someone else every few dozen years, a task she had solved by establishing a long family line of librarians. With every descent of death upon her, there was always a ‘daughter’ ready to claim her mother’s place. Fortunately for her, nobody paid any attention to the librarians. They were the overlooked souls sentenced to engage in menial work while mighty Dark lords and emperors chased galactic conquest.

    A faint scent of incense followed the Miraluka, her dark robes laced with Sith runes soundlessly sweeping over the heavy slabs of polished granite as she sauntered down the main aisle. Other robed figures within the shadows silently tended to their own business, lost in thought. She paid them no heed and left them to their research, only ensuring all borrowed works were returned to their proper place. A hand reached up, telekinetically placing the scrolls among others upon a bookcase that stretched all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. Despite devoid of eyesight, she saw everything.

    An old familiar presence brushed against her mind’s eye and she quickly finished the procedure before moving to accommodate the new arrival as dictated by her duty. Eisheth drew the hood of her robe deeper into her face, completely concealing the empty eye sockets and leaving much of her appearance a mystery except for the deathly pale skin. Her lips loosened into a dark smile as she briskly approached the Quarren by the entrance.

    The foul presence surrounding her spelled death to indicate her experience and devotion to the Dark, yet it was different from the previous librarian’s. Capable of recognizing others by their shape within the Force, the Miraluka was wily enough to change her signature each incarnation. An adjustment here and there and she emerged a new person.

    Darth Cerebrous ….to what do we owe the honor of your visit,” the librarian’s pale lips uttered. “Perhaps you have decided to settle down and write a memoir? I’m certain future generations of Sith would be most grateful.”
     
    #2 Gamajun, Aug 1, 2021
    Last edited: Aug 1, 2021
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  3. Darth Cerebrous

    Darth Cerebrous The Crawling Chaos
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    When he'd walked these halls once before as an apprentice, he had not failed to notice the librarian that haunted this place, nor had she failed to see him.

    "I could write a thousands volumes on the Republic, but I don't think they take kindly to politicians trying to publish from beyond the grave. I'm afraid I've come here for the reason that there are few words from me that are not already held in your collections." He was certain she could feel his unease. He felt like an imposter in these halls. For decades the Dark Side had served him so well, but he had not served the Dark Side. It bent his political enemies to his will, it gave him power like no other in the Republic. That was what his master had wanted of him, to follow the Legacy of Sidious, to mold the Republic from within. Yet somewhere along the way he had lost track, lost vision. He amassed power not in the name of the Grand Plan as Darth Cerebrous, but in his own name as Kro Tosqer.

    "I have come seeking a single answer, though I fear it may only lead to more questions in the future," reaching under his obsidian robes, and into a small satchel at his side, he pulled forth a statuette, no taller than the length of his forearm. He gripped it by the round base and held it towards the librarian. Its grotesque design was well detailed, a figure curled like a fetus, humanoid but possessing traits of a species he'd never laid his eyes on. Its bulbous head was little more than a mass of cephalic appendages, long and tangled. Hugging its scaly body were the bony, draconian wings. The idol was cold and clammy to the touch, and no one could deny the strength of its aura in the Force. In old Ur-Kittat was the word carved around its base: Typhojem. The word carried a strange weight even in his ignorance to its meaning.

    "What is... this?"

    Gamajun