The Rebel Faction

Standing high atop his personal sanctuary of Primus Goluud, Sedriss Sadow let his mind drift within the scintillating energies of the darkside of the force. The immense tidal forces between Khar Delba and its moon Khar Shian permeated the atmosphere with a cold black death; almost as if some of the essence of Naga Sadow's spirit still existed, beckoning him to unleash death upon all.

His thoughts drifted to Ziost, once the ruling world of the Sith empire, a planet as dark and sadistic as that of Korriban itself. The mere thought of this ancestral sith world sent a tendril of ice into Sedriss's heart, for Ziost was a frozen ice planet, deathly cold and forever enshrouded in a suffocating darkness.

It was this harsh environment that had once seen the ruling Sith lords hold court, scheming and plotting against contenders and rivals. As well, laws were administered, ordering decrees which soon were implemented in various sectors of the sith empire. Here order was forged.

To Sedriss, this place had more of an emotional tie, knowing fool well, that here Naga Sadow had made a critical error in judgement. In a meeting of the Sith council of lords called by the pathetic Ludo Kressh, the sith deliberated the fate of the hyperspace explorers Gav and Jori Daragon. Kresh reasoned that to safeguard the Sith empire at all costs, the infidels must be eliminated, to prevent an all out Republic invasion.

Wincing at the thought, the new Dark lord, knew that his ancestor had a more deceitful plot in mind, one that would threaten the very survival of the sith. Naga chafed under what he perceived as the burden of a dead and stagnant empire, forever trapped in its past glory.

Naga desperately wanted to to invade the Republic, claiming the galaxy as his own personal dominion. Cunningly, the sith lord whisked the Daragons away from Ziost, hiding them in his private fortress on the dark side of the moon of Khar Delba, convincing them that the Republic had attacked. Foolishly, the sith council also appointed Sadow Dark Lord of the Sith on Ziost, never wise to his true aims for the empire.

He was foolish, wanting more than he could have, not planning, only lusting for power. I will not make that mistake!

His mind sensed an unspeakable evil behind him, watching and gauging, knowing the Dark lord had come to a decision. His smile was invisible, originating from his black soul, realizing that he must return to this place of power. For now, his destiny lie in forging the sith empire, raising the long dead husk from its shadowy grave and forging it into a fiery phoenix, which would blind all the heretics and defilers. Yes, this was his destiny, one that he would not fail at. Turning to the Overlord he spoke in an icy, almost immoral voice.

It is time Malice Draclau for us to venture to a place of glory and sanctity. Prepare our ship and gather sufficient troops, for we leave in the cover of darkness.The Dark lord of the Sith shall return to ZIOST

They spoke to him.

Spirits of men dead for thousands of years flowed across Ziost like water across a riverbed, ducking and diving yet somehow trapped on the icy world. These were the ghosts of Ziost; Sith Lords entombed forevermore in its temples, their tortured existence little more than ethereal.

Xireon Jiren sat, crosslegged, in one of these temples. It was in one of these temples that he had been "born", so to speak; it was in one of these temples that he had been reborn.

He had once been a proud Sith; the creation of the legendary Jedi Master Gash Jiren, genetically manufactured for perfection, and taken from the former Sith himself. But Xireon was the spawn of an imperfect man, and thus, was himself imperfect. The flaws of one man's scientific knowledge had been passed down; in a way, he was perfect. Yet the power of perfection was more than his soul could possibly bear.

The battle of Ruusan had crippled him; left him a broken, twisted man, robbed of the innate essence carried by every Asthentian. His hair turned black, his body was reduced to that of a shambling cripple, and all that remained to keep him alive was hatred. Hatred, and the dark side.

Yet he'd found away to cheat death, once again. Chasing Xex Tirion to Ziost, he'd sacrificed him, calling on the dark forces of the world to use the power of the Blade of Klain to restore to him his original power, his physical prowess.

In a manner of speaking, they had.

But Xireon was imperfect, as always; he summoned powers he could not control, and that had cost him. He'd gained his power back, and more; he had gained the world. But he'd lost himself.

He looked down at his body. It was that of a demon; a vampire, you might say, something out of primitive human mythology. His form resembled that of a human, but the resemblance ended there; his skin was blue, almost scaled, and hard. His hands had twisted into claws, his eyes had faded into a pure white. He was frighteningly thin, inhumanly thin, his bones visible. Yet he was not weak; far from it. The form had blessed him with a strength he couldn't have imagined.

The voices of Ziost had whispered to Xireon. They'd told him what he was. He was a wraith. A wraith of the Blade. Within him, something had been lost -- an essence, a spark. It had been replaced with that of the Blade of Klain, but no power came without a cost.

And they whispered to him again, now. He could hear them, he could reply; he coaxed them into telling him what he wanted to know. The child, the child, they breathed, whispering into his ear breathlessly.

"The child of whom," Xireon muttered under his breath.

The child! The child of the one who must come in order for the light to go; the eternal spirit, the eternal flame, that lives forever in those who carry the name! They replied, as if he should know. Though the voices spoke in an odd unified monotone, one could, in time, determine with exactly whom they spoke. In this case, it was a five thousand year old Sith Master from the old order. He'd watched the fall of the Sith Empire, the rise of the Sith Order, the fall thereof and the subsequent rise of the new Sith orders.

"Tell me whose child, Divus Kren," Xireon said, speaking the name perhaps to remind the spirit how easily he could communicate with the thing, and how few others could do so. "Forgive my ignorance."

The child of Sadow, the voice replied at last. The heir to him. The heir to the Dark Lord of the Sith! He comes through the darkness of despair to crest the dawn of a new era!

"The number of men I have known who have claimed that title rob it of all meaning."

It had great meaning, once. You owe him your respect... The voice trailed off menacingly.

"I owe no one my respect."

So you say. But look at who arives with order in tow, and look who sits speaking in riddles with the maddened dead, the Sith spirit replied, almost dryly.

"If he so desires, let him come, then," Xireon snarled. "And let him bring his 'order'."

*Janus' form appeared right beside the man, Max. In nodded, but didn't speak, it mouthed "I also wish to join, I am on my way to your room."*

*As Malice exitted the room, Janus arrived, he bowed low.*

"Master. Am I to come or not? I am sorry I was not able to be here sooner, but these hallways are rather winding..."

Sedriss did not like interruptions, which is precisely what Lord Chaos and Janus had done. Malice's harsh words saved them both from certain pain, yet the foolish Janus remained, while Malice sent angry thoughts toward him. Bathing him with a deadly glare, the dark lord spoke.

Janus, it is in your best interest to report to the spaceport. Lord Chaos will need assistance. See to it that 8,000 Massassi warriors are prepared for this mission. Now leave my sight.

As he was about to turn back to Overlord Draclau, he felt a shimmering darkness hiding in the shadows, like a feral predator ready to attack. He knew of only one being who was adept at such deceit and skill. The man, if you could call him that, was an enigma, a master at combat but a mystery all together.

Lord Jas, please join us. We have much to discuss if we are to survive the darkness of Ziost. That holy mecca is the very place my forefather was crowned Dark Lord of the Sith. Soon I will return and reclaim this lost land as part of the Dark Circle. I would be honored if you would share your thoughts with us.