The Shadow Command
Recently the Hands of Darkness have once more undergone a significant shift in power within it's ever evolving structure of power. With the Prophet of Darkness, the Dark Lord Darth Derriphan, withdrawn from galactic society due to a mysterious state of madness, it has fallen upon the Shadow Hands within her order to rally up and take command. Forming a new council, her loyal followers now command the Hands of Darkness's forces, ensuring their continuing survival in the mad prophets absence and a galaxy on the brink of all out war.
Recently due to real-life issues a change has been made within the leadership structure of the Hands of Darkness which now sees it once more ruled by a Council. Much like the Shadow Council of it's past the newly created Shadow Command control the Hands of Darkness in all of it's day to day running. The decision to switch back to such a style was to allow greater RP freedom within the Guild, allowing those within the Shadow Command to plot against each other with their own followers, to usurp their fellows, and claim the title of Overlord of the Hands.
Slowly she saw the stagnation of the Empire pull apart that which she had built. Those she had once considered loyal to her cause and how now started to flee, cowards who did not deserve to hear her words, cowards who could not see beyond their own selfish desires, cowards who would perish in the upcoming dark times that she had foreseen.
She knew the changes she would make leading up to the past few weeks would be seen as controversial, she had effectively gutted the hands of its own stagnation, of those who still clung to their own old foolish ways. But this did not come without it's own cost. Their influence had shrunk, their own order marginalised in the halls of Imperial power. Once they had been a force to reckon with, now they were but a handful, but that was all she needed.
Derriphan stood within her chambers, decorated with the relics of Sith long since gone. They served as constant reminders of previously destroyed Sith Empires, destroyed by their own stagnation and inability to truly comprehend the meaning behind what it meant to be Sith.
“You look tired Prophet” A raspy female voice spoke out from behind her.
“I have no time for your tricks spirit” Derriphan responded turned to face the ethereal being dressed in the robes of a different age.
“You inform those around you of the dangers of stagnation yet you do not heed your own words.” The ghostly figure said “Some say you have bought into your own delusions, this talk of communing with some greater Darkness … a lie, that you have blinded yourself into believing.”
Derriphan knew the spirit, it was that of the former apprentice of the orders founder. During a ritual held by the Hands of Darknes on Korriban it had unbound itself from its afterlife chains, and now saw to torment her at every turn.
“You have become no different from that cretinous master I once served. Terr Umbra too began to believe his own proclamations of the future … and I slew him for his foolishness.” The spirit of Verra, the first lady of Darkness, stepped towards Derriphan.
“I have no intentions of dying in such a way!” Derriphan snarled.
“We shall see.” The spirit vanished.