Korriban - The Scourge is Reborn

The Dark Side of the Force... as there is two sides of a moon, both light and dark, the Force bears both resemblances and perplexing similarities to many things the mortal mind could think of. Good and evil. Light and shadow. Peace and chaos. Creation and destruction. it begs the question... what is the Force?

Scholars would have one believe that the Force was a binding presence, keeping the Galaxy together like glue. Others would say that the Force was a burden, something to keep wrapped up in bandages and in a casket... but it was a true master of the Force that knows that the midichlorian was a gift, something to use as one would use their own hands and feet. The Force was a mere toy to a Sith Lord, a marionette on a string to use to the heart's content. Through emotions and passion, the Dark Side of the Force was a true sight to behold.

Korriban. A desolate world, though an avatar Dark Side energies, swirling about, enveloping the mortal body in a cocoon of malignant corruption. Many would find the evil vibes revolting, but to a Sith, it was bliss. The Dark Lord was kneeling in the center of a newly rebuilt temple, the sun pouring in through layers upon layers of stained glass windows in the ceiling, which cast runes of sunlight upon the ground. The runes were written in the language of the Sith, spelling the names of the former Dark Lords, inscribing their immortal legacies into the ground beneath the Child of the Grave. Sidious... Bane... Tyrannus... Krayt... Plagueis... Vader... Revan... Nihilus... Qel Droma... Sadow... Pall... Skor... Anarcus... Magnus... Demona... the list went on and on. Never would the Galaxy forget their names... but in the end, each name would just be another shiver running down the spine of the Galaxy.

"To the maggots and flies, return to your corpse... for once more the corpse shall rise and walk, and ye be its blade."

The Dark Lord, Belial, whispered his words into the wind, spoken in the language of the Sith, a language long forgotten, buried in the sands of time. Only the Sith would recognize it, and they would return to Korriban, under the tutelage of a new Dark Lord... a new shepherd to the flock.

I am here Darklord Belial... forever indebted to the Sith, I come forth to seek instruction on what needs to be done in the not so distant future... so please, enlighten me.

The voice would echo through Belial telepathically, and just as stern and direct as the message entered was, Belial would see the image of the Sith known as Diabolus. The time had come for him to serve his order, and whether he wanted to believe it or not, he felt he was about to play an important role in helping to restore the near forgotten order.

(Short but I am lazy)

Irena was no one sheep; she walked the line. If the Force was a moon, where she walked on it, it was neither night nor day, simply presence. The force was a sensor and a tool, however, one that allowed her to hear the Sith language; that, and her studies. Her ever constant, ever disiplined, ever delving, studies.

Irena had been to Korriban before, of course. The valley; the temple -- none of it was new to her. That was why she had no exploratory attitude -- she knew her surroundings from past visits. It was only as she strode into the temple itself, still sheathed in the cloaking aura of force energy that shielded her from sight and, with great concentration, from the Force, as well. That the planet was sheathed in Dark Side energies helped -- being strong in the Force was something she had to fight to hide anywhere else, but surrounded by such strength, even horribly corrupted as it was, allowed her stealth.

When she did reach the temple though, she pushed hard with her mind to find the source of the call. She could not hide her force presence, nor did she try.

In a sense, she was home.