Formal BOSTHIRDA, THE CATHEDRA

[corinthia]

Bosthirda, the Cathedra: A Hesperian RP

- Closed to non-Hesperians -
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IC: High Priestess Hesper
Bosthirda ― Sanctum of the Veil​

Bone-weary yet alight with a kind of strange excitement, Hesper swiftly picked her way down a dilapidated cobbled pathway stretching through a deep and verdant canyon, her dark skirts rustling about her legs and bare feet. Reaching upwards on either side of her were canyon walls dripping with green ivy, ferns, lichens, moss, and brackish water—somewhere overhead, birds trilled and warbled unfamiliar songs. The air was pleasant; the coolness of morning still clung to leaves, skin, and breath in the bottom of this deep entrenchment, though the midday sun hung brightly overhead. Ahead, a grand and ancient-looking keep jutted out of the rock of the canyon, high above the valley floor, with stone walkways and steps leading up to its cavernous entrance. Clearly abandoned yet nebulous and pulsating in the Force, Hesper knew at once she had found what she was looking for:

The hidden retreat of Supreme Prophet Kadann.

Deserted a century and a half ago when the Prophets were slaughtered, it was a relic of a bygone time and a religion long dead. Hesper was fascinated by it; after all, she had chosen the planet Bosthirda to claim for its history with the esoteric cult. The planet itself possessed a strange magnetism in the atmosphere that dimmed comms signals, much like the planet Kesh that the Lost Tribe made their home, though somewhat different and weaker. And, as the surface was riddled with deep chasms and canyons, the stone sides of which were lushly foliate and home to the few vertical cities that were carved out from the rock and spilled onto the flat valley floors, the sheer depth at which Bosthirda's sentient life had settled further prevented clear communication with the galaxy beyond. So it truly felt like a remote getaway, off-the-grid and difficult to find. Bosthirda was a beautiful world—a peaceful world, if one could call a planet steeped in dark side energy peaceful.

Soon, Hesper reached the steps leading to the Supreme Prophet's former stronghold. "The Sanctum of the Veil," she whispered to herself, breath cool on her lips as she tried the stronghold's new name, pausing briefly to crane her neck to look up at the magnificent structure. The stairways were damp under her naked toes, and she climbed them with measured grace, robes fluttering in the gentle canyon breeze like moth wings. Higher and higher she climbed, until at last she came to the cavernous entryway to the retreat itself.

Servants, slaves, and laborers had been sent ahead of their arrival to make ready the Sanctum, and the breadth and furor of their work was evident: the onyx larmalstone floors had been polished until they shone, the stone columns holding up the lofty ceilings were scrubbed from top to bottom, massive urns overflowing with exotic flora were placed artfully among the many pillars, and two gleaming, enormous bronzium statues of humanoid forms draped head to foot in veils that looked to spill artfully over their pedestals and onto the floor stood on either side of the entryway like sentries, arms folded beneath their solid bronze veils. And, at the end of a long black runner that stretched from the entrance to the end of the long great hall stood a grand stone cathedra atop a raised dais, decorated with radiant, gleaming bronze in the shape of the Hesperian sigil, mounted on the back of the throne like a brilliant halo that would encircle the head of whoever sat upon the magnificent chair.

Stepping into the Sanctum of the Veil, Hesper breathed a delighted sigh.

She padded down the runner carpet towards her cathedra; her long pale gold hair rippled about her shoulders as she went. She paused before the throne and turned to face the entry to the Sanctum. Then, regally and deliberately, she climbed the three steps of the dais, and lowered herself into the resplendent cathedra. It simultaneously felt wrong and right― Hesper had never been one who desired to lead. The spotlight had never been attractive to her; she always preferred to keep her clout in the shadows. Yet as she sat upon the emerald-colored cushion, and rested her hands atop the bronzium arms, she felt at home. This was a seat from which she could build a home for her like-minded fellows among the Sith and among the House of her master, the House of Dreadwar.

"Come," she declared, raising a pale hand in a beckon to any followers who had trailed in behind her. "Come before the cathedra."

High Priestess Hesper sat forward, one keen grey eye and one clouded opal eye scrutinizing those who would come before her― they would feel as if they were being examined both within and without, and as if their pasts and futures were being discerned. The hall was silent for a long while as the priestess looked at each figure before her.

After a while, Hesper sat back in her cathedra, leaning her head against the hammered bronze corona affixed to its back. She closed her eyes, and for a time, she rested, waiting for something yet to come. Those who had followed would also wait, perhaps impatiently, having been made to stand before the dais without a word more of instruction or greeting.

Then, Hesper opened her eyes and blinked hazily, as if gazing through a diaphanous mist, or peering into a future yet lived. She smiled.

~​

 

[Xarxes]

~†~†~Entering the Sacaellum~†~†~
Theme: Go Back Whence You Came​

The skeletally-clad Zabrak stood before the scrutinizing, analytical Tribune, having been made vulnerable by her gaze. No doubt she was attempting to predict the same of him as of others, that he would be a fine addition to the Hesperian cabal or he would not. There was no in-between.

Makarov knew this principle well. It was the same which he kept among his clan on Dathomir, and was always a vital connector between his authority and the ears of his subjects. He had yet the need to draw his blade against them, for the many loyal kept the few rebellious in line, out of a combination of fear and admiration for the Nightfather.

†††​

His departure from them had been necessary, for the time being. He had left one of the more loyal witches, one he had crippled after slaying his mother's body, in charge of affairs while he was gone. Through fear, he knew she would obey, especially since his activity in that region of the witch's planet was now acknowledged by Lady Traya.

His apprentice, Rayge, was well on his way to Knighthood, and only needed but a few more lessons to reach that stage in his time as a Sith. He would survive while Amit tended to his business on Bosthirda.

The journey had been a long one, and more difficult than expected as the Apocrypha came into the planet's atmosphere. His pilot had to work mostly without navigation. It had been a hectic moment, but Makarov's mastery of the mind and strength in the Force allowed him sight enough to see and willpower enough to control the actions of his pilot. "Ysgarthiad!"

Thankfully, the landing was much softer as he released the Nightsister's mind and they descended from the clouds towards the canyoned planet surface, towards the Cathedra.

†††
​

And now he stood before the priestess, his fate and future resting in her hands, and hers alone.

He was still.

 

[G.Kn]

IC: Knight Pallas
Hesperian Dread Sorcerer

~~~
​

Pallas knelt before the dias with his head bowed after finishing his pledge. The power of this building, of the person sat before him.... It almost put him at ease? No. That wasn't right. What had happened was the echoes he usually heard from his amulet had fallen silent.

It was a shard of a nexus he made... Grown from the broken and mangled bodies of his clan. Usually their screams and whispers haunted him. Mocking him, begging him, crying out that he should feel some sort of remorse. Insulting him for what he had become. They where a tad indecisive, he supposed it was the difference between the souls who died in fear, and those that died in anger.

But here, here Pallas heard nothing. He still felt them, they were there. The presence of the echoes hung around his neck like a personal nexus, a bastion of his power. But as he knelt before Lady Hesper they fell silent. Like prey when a predator was near they held their breath. The feared and loathed Pallas, but they were terrified of the entity he had just pledged himself to.

It was upon realising this that Pallas knew he had made the correct choice. The High Priestess, Butcher of Coruscant, Tribune of the Empire... He wondered absentmindedly, if as well as a following, she was in the market for an 'Angel' to carry out her will. Pallas traced the back of his teeth with his tongue as he fought back a vicious grin.

This may well be the start of something truly dark.​

 

[corinthia]

IC: High Priestess Hesper
​

It would be easy to take the smile on the Priestess' lips for benevolence; it was serene, gentle, and mild. A faint upward turn at the corners of her mouth. It was soft and distant, seemingly a gate to amicable words and dove-like treaties that would unfurl, purple and diaphanous, when the Priestess opened her lips to speak.

She gazed upon her followers that had gathered. All had been foretold-- all were assembled as they should be. Each would know the ethereal touch of Hesper's presence in their minds, the very tug that called them here. Each had said their piece, too, devoting themselves to the Hesperians with the phrase tenebrae sint nobis dux, an ancient and eldritch language. Fluidly, Hesper held up a hand.

"Welcome, all of you," she said, lowering her raised hand to rest on the bronzed arm of her cathedra. The Priestess' voice was soft, brassy, its timbre like a low, clear bell. "To the Sanctum of the Veil. You have been patient, and so you shall be rewarded. I have asked much of you as of late." Each would know what this meant. "I have asked you before the cathedra today to swear your allegiance out loud, and to bestow on each of you the honors you have earned. I ask that you all rise and stand at the foot of the dias-- yes, as close as you can."

Sitting forward, Hesper anticipated her followers to step closer.

TAG: @G.Kn, @Makarov, @Darth Illium, @Nacros_Telcontare ​

 

[Darth Traya]

IC: Darth Traya

The Sanctum of the Veil. The name certainly had a comforting ring in the way it flowed from the revered Dark Lady’s lips. Lady Traya first joined the Empire brazenly baring her empty eye sockets, unashamed of her species as it was how the witches of Dathomir taught her.

But now wounds, corruption and rot clawed across her skin and thus she wore attire slightly more akin to a Miraluka. Typically a sun shaped crown that covered her face; but she’d also taken to flowing lavender or sheer black veils more commonly found in the beauty fashions of Hapes.

This mention of a veil was more than just a catchy name. The symbol of the veil meant seeing beyond the mere surface of the fabric of reality. Peering through a veil granted one true sight. Was it mere darkness and evolution that granted the Miraluka their gifts of true sight, or was it will, to see without need of imperfect ocular organs? To see the galaxy as it truly was?

Darth Traya pulled her thoughts back into the present moment, the Lady Hesper bid her new House mates to stand closer to the dias. Without a word, Traya moved solemnly to the edge of the dias and trained her face toward the Dark Lady. Her form vibrated with magnificent energy with wave lengths she could detect as violet and deep green as she focused her senses.

 

[Xarxes]

The Dread Lord had long awaited this moment, so at the beckoning of Lady Hesper he couldn't help but move forward in turn with the others. He rose, obediently moving as close as he could to the dais where she stood. He could feel the raw energy trembling through the Force, emanating from both Dark Ladies he stood in the presence of. His own, lesser, strength mingled with theirs, filling the room and, undoubtedly, much of the area around the planet with the layer of darkness. Their combined strength in the Darkness would be enough to make those unattuned to the Force gag or retch with unease.

Seeing as he stood in the presence of greatness, the Nightfather removed his faceplate to expose himself, the image beneath likely a surprise to those in his presence. Instead of the bald, spiked, tattooed head of the Zabrak with which they were familiar, there was a smooth and elegant one, not a flaw about it, a head of sleek black locks cascading to his shoulders, and a pair of glowing golden eyes piercing the Dark Lady on the dais.

Those learned in the dark, alchemical arts would recognize this technique. It was a Sith Mask, proliferated by many Sith before as a means of hiding in plain sight, only now, for Lord Xarxes, it was instead a symbol of rebirth. Of Order. Of purity.

He looked the part of the executioner of justice that he was present now to become.

†††

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