
The twitching figures of the once Honour Guards, once sworn protectors and greatest servants of the Sith Order, now reduced to deranged shells of champions, with their characteristic crimson cloaks torn and clawed by the desperate grip of the slaves that were being dragged across the Sanctum, to the sacrificial altar, carried the dismembered parts of the alien away from the Priestess. Their eyes, visible from through the broken visors of their conical helmets, gazed upon the exposed flesh with craving.
The captives from Pergetor were famished; Denied any food or care as they hanged chained or nailed against the durasteel walls of the lower decks of the warship, with many having already been dismembered, their incomplete cadavers still hanging cannibalized by the cold grip of the chains so ungently wrapped around their wrists.
The rituals in the Sanctum were emitting enough foul energy for the entire warship to be drenched in a maddening sense of rage. The insaned troops, once high veterans of the many wars waged in the name of the Sith Empire, now mere minions of destruction, with their armours marked with the seven-pointed star of their dark masters' heretic cult, flock to the hangars and the battle stations, as the maniacal laughters from the main gun decks echo, indicating the malice that fuelled the crew which prepared the massive cannon batteries for the moment the void blastdoors would open, and signify the beginning of the most-anticipated carnage.
Like a wound in the very Force, a storm of the Dark Side, the Marauder Fleet emerged into Realspace, followed by dozens of warships of pirates, corsairs and other vile predator that grew roots in the furthest nebulae of the Kathol Spine and the Outer Rim. Attracted to the Fleet like flies to a carrion, the miasma of the outlaws and underworlders further strengthened the might of the Marauders who finally revealled their true intent to the Sith rulers of Karideph, while they planned to make a show of force loud enough to be heard from Minos Sector, to Dromund Kaas itself.
Spearhead to the fleet was the flagship, the behemoth of a warship who's name caused fear to many a world, the Shadow's Avenger, her dark hull having scratched away the Sith heraldry of the House Kata who had been her masters for decades, now branded with the Seven-Pointed Star of the Shadow Cult, embracing its heretical descend by turning to the very Empire she once battled for.
Onboard the Avenger, the thousands of souls of corrupt troops, Sith Cultists and branded war-beasts, all rushed to battle stations as the beaming black tide advanced towards their prey.
At the very depth of the Sith Sanctum, in the middle of the black chamber lit by the dim flickering light of the torches that revealled the splatters of blood and the rotting remnants of intestines, memoirs of the cursed day the Avenger fell into heresy, stood the iron throne, spiked and built on the deck, with countless wires and cables connecting it to the rest of the chamber. Upon the throne, sat the hooded figure of the Dark Lord.
His armour branded with the cultist symbols, while his armoured fingertips tapping against the arms of the throne, embracing the lightning being cast momentarily in disordered manner from the kyber crystals that were planted at the base of the throne; trophies of Jedi and other victims claimed from past engagements, left to bleed beneath the feet of the Dark Lord, until corruption seeds enough within them, to be used for much more vile purposes....
The Dark Lord, in his ecstasy of rage and ill-intent, lied like a statue upon the throne, as his entire being was invested in the deep battle meditation which fuelled the countless soulless minions who embarked in his Dark Crusade. Occasional red lightning sparks blazed from his entity, slithering their way into the cables around the throne in light-speed, as his will was being twisted in electronic manipulation, causing the massive holoprojection at the Bridge deck to flicker, guiding through the electronics of the ship his mighty warlords into action.
A beam of darkness spread from the fleet like a grand maw in the void, swallowing whole its surroundings in a declaration of the Dark Lord's will; An invitation of violence; A promise of madness and death. A calling, for all the servants of the Dark Side to rally to his horde, as the Dark Crusade went on.
And so, as the Battle of Karideph was about to begin, so did the War for Minos....
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