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07-10-2026, 10:14 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-10-2026, 10:29 AM by Rhysand Kalkoran.)
Part III: The Household Sith
Entry I: Darth Horuset IV
The holo-projector whirred to life. It revealed a tall figure in black armour, a long cloak drooping from his shoulders to cover the majority of his figure. His expression was harsh, the previous neutrality defaced as his sharp copper-gold eyes, transfigured to bright blue-white in the holoprojector’s hues, narrowed. The Household Sith folded his armoured arms across his chest, the metal armour fitted and moulded to his figure as if he were born in it. He regarded the viewer, his lips set tight, unsmiling.
“By the will of my Master, I have risen as Sith Rojarus of the Kalkoran Powerbase, and Ahandra Yaria Horuset is dead. The woman I once longed to serve as Her Apprentice is dead. The Sith Master of the Horuset Powerbase, the most powerful Sith I knew, is dead. Rent apart by a ritual of her own creation, intended to capture an ancient Sith Spirit, the First Mother. A creature meant to be one of the first Sith Purebloods, which would allow… Rebirth.”
Sith Rojarus’ brow ridges furrowed, and he seemed almost contemplative. “It’s a strange thought, that she is gone. I witnessed it myself—I was there when it happened, with my Master, and Lords Sarias and Krevas, Sith Zveris, and some Acolytes. Ahandra Yaria Horuset conducted a ritual, binding an ancient Sith Spirit from the Arc, an item in the Horuset Vaults, to her holocron, a masterful work of craftsmanship. And… I don’t know if the ritual failed or succeeded, but the spirit lashed out in anger, and… Ahandra Yaria Horuset perished.
“It is said that the moment of succession is the most dangerous. The most fragile. So I took the initiative and hailed Trakaton Horuset as Darth Horuset, the Fourth of His Name, Sith Master of the Horuset Powerbase and Patriarch of the Houses Horuset, Kalkoran, and Zynn. Slowly, the assembled masses heeded the call: Zveris submitted, and Krevas, the Acolytes, and, lastly, Lord Sarias. I remember the hesitation I sensed—the hatred, the ambition. She is one to watch.”
Sith Rojarus gently canted his head aside, his gaze narrowed, yet drifting from the viewer. “It is a strange thought: once, I prostrated myself before Ahandra Yaria Horuset and argued with her for tutelage and a place beneath her wing as an Apprentice, only to be turned down. And now… I serve Darth Horuset directly. I am his sole Apprentice. In a way, I am his heir.” Rojarus’s expression grows pensive, and then a flicker of doubt crosses it like a shadow, darkening the bright gaze. “Still, I wonder if I am what I should be. If I am enough. Viren would know; he would tell me to be bold. Yet how can I be bold when I am the weakest of the highest echelons of the Powerbase? I am without students of my own—without Apprentices, without a Powerbase.” His expression hardened, and the doubt passed. “What blather. A Sith without legacy is nothing: so the Dark Lord, my Master, has taught. That is why I took his daughter to wife. Legacy. It will be the next step: a powerbase of my own. Already, I watch some promising Acolytes. The Mistake. The Nephew. The Zealot. The Narrator. We shall see who proves worthy.”
The projection faded as Sith Rojarus disappeared from view.
Entry I: Darth Horuset IV
The holo-projector whirred to life. It revealed a tall figure in black armour, a long cloak drooping from his shoulders to cover the majority of his figure. His expression was harsh, the previous neutrality defaced as his sharp copper-gold eyes, transfigured to bright blue-white in the holoprojector’s hues, narrowed. The Household Sith folded his armoured arms across his chest, the metal armour fitted and moulded to his figure as if he were born in it. He regarded the viewer, his lips set tight, unsmiling.
“By the will of my Master, I have risen as Sith Rojarus of the Kalkoran Powerbase, and Ahandra Yaria Horuset is dead. The woman I once longed to serve as Her Apprentice is dead. The Sith Master of the Horuset Powerbase, the most powerful Sith I knew, is dead. Rent apart by a ritual of her own creation, intended to capture an ancient Sith Spirit, the First Mother. A creature meant to be one of the first Sith Purebloods, which would allow… Rebirth.”
Sith Rojarus’ brow ridges furrowed, and he seemed almost contemplative. “It’s a strange thought, that she is gone. I witnessed it myself—I was there when it happened, with my Master, and Lords Sarias and Krevas, Sith Zveris, and some Acolytes. Ahandra Yaria Horuset conducted a ritual, binding an ancient Sith Spirit from the Arc, an item in the Horuset Vaults, to her holocron, a masterful work of craftsmanship. And… I don’t know if the ritual failed or succeeded, but the spirit lashed out in anger, and… Ahandra Yaria Horuset perished.
“It is said that the moment of succession is the most dangerous. The most fragile. So I took the initiative and hailed Trakaton Horuset as Darth Horuset, the Fourth of His Name, Sith Master of the Horuset Powerbase and Patriarch of the Houses Horuset, Kalkoran, and Zynn. Slowly, the assembled masses heeded the call: Zveris submitted, and Krevas, the Acolytes, and, lastly, Lord Sarias. I remember the hesitation I sensed—the hatred, the ambition. She is one to watch.”
Sith Rojarus gently canted his head aside, his gaze narrowed, yet drifting from the viewer. “It is a strange thought: once, I prostrated myself before Ahandra Yaria Horuset and argued with her for tutelage and a place beneath her wing as an Apprentice, only to be turned down. And now… I serve Darth Horuset directly. I am his sole Apprentice. In a way, I am his heir.” Rojarus’s expression grows pensive, and then a flicker of doubt crosses it like a shadow, darkening the bright gaze. “Still, I wonder if I am what I should be. If I am enough. Viren would know; he would tell me to be bold. Yet how can I be bold when I am the weakest of the highest echelons of the Powerbase? I am without students of my own—without Apprentices, without a Powerbase.” His expression hardened, and the doubt passed. “What blather. A Sith without legacy is nothing: so the Dark Lord, my Master, has taught. That is why I took his daughter to wife. Legacy. It will be the next step: a powerbase of my own. Already, I watch some promising Acolytes. The Mistake. The Nephew. The Zealot. The Narrator. We shall see who proves worthy.”
The projection faded as Sith Rojarus disappeared from view.
