Private Of The Abyss (Revna)

[Darth Carnifex]

They were called the Black Cells.

Metaphorically and literally, they symbolized the darkest reaches one could ever be subjected to. The very walls of the prison were made from metal blackened to the point where no light could reflect off of it's surface. One could not tell where the walls ended and the ceiling and floors began. Prisoners were thrown into these darkened cells, made to suffer a seemingly endless nothingness. They would find that no matter how far they moved they could never reach the walls, even though they knew the room was not that large when they had been thrown in.

Time would not obey them either, for in their perception years stretched on in complete darkness while only hours passed beyond the walls of their prison. In such total isolation, the mind often succumbed to madness. When a mind was broken in such a way, it could be sifted through and dissected without the redoubts of mental defenses. Those that were discarded to the Black Cells emerged broken people, their minds shattered by the infinity of shadows. And when their gaolers had their fill, they were discarded.

She had only been within a Black Cell for a few hours at most, but in her mind it had been years. Hunger clawed at her belly, thirst strangled her throat, but she did not die. Her body did not wither, she did not age. Her hair never grew, she felt no other bodily compulsion other than an intense hunger and thirst. When they came for her again, the light from the exterior corridor was as blinding as the brightest star. They dragged her from the cell and out into the wider complex, passing by great temples to pain and suffering inflicted upon the enemies of her captors. Today, she would be spared the worst of it.

Where they left her, she could not know -- only that it was a room smothered in smoke and shadow. Her bindings had been removed, the metal having dug into the skin of her wrists and ankles during her captivity. She was left to linger in her misery for a time, before she could sense another in her midst. This was a different shadow than the one she endured in the cell, it was far more potent.

Worst of all, it was a living darkness.

She would only see His outline initially, a smudge against the indistinct smoke that bordered her perception. But, in an instant, it all bled away into normality. She found herself in a plain gray room, no larger than a modest living quarter, but still not alone. He was there with her, His towering presence casting a dire gloom over her. She knew His name, she knew His face, but that knowledge imparted onto her by her master and her comrades paled in comparison to being near Him. He radiated a malice so acute that her skin reacted with phantom sensations, as though it were crawling atop her muscles. An unnatural chill crept up her spine, her every instinct struggling between fight or flight, like she were left naked and unarmed before a great and terrible beast; one that would tear her to ribbons in a heartbeat.

"They call you Revna Sharr, do they not?" His voice was like the death-throes of a primordial world, the glacial annihilation of whole continents as tectonics shifted and collapsed in on one another. She would know in an instant that this was the voice of a being who had ordered the death of trillions, the bane of all life. There was no warmth, no solace to be found in familiar tones, only the harsh bite of each syllable as they crept through her inner ear. To hearken to Him was to hearken to obliteration, to keenly know the articulation of cruelty made manifest.

To gaze upon Him was to court the inevitability of an event horizon, to know certain death was imminent and unavoidable. Every inch was cut the image of a conqueror, a butcher, a tyrant. His shoulders were broad, body sculpted for war. A plain tunic of black cloth hung down across His torso, the edges embroidered with phrases of Sith scripture in the blasphemous tongue of ur-Kittât. He bore no weapon, for He did not require one. He could kill her a word if He wanted to, every action potentially lethal.

All of His being demanded submission, and her own body fought to obey that sensation; as though to not commit yourself to His will was wrong and grotesque.

"Your master makes very large waves for a creature so small, Revna Sharr. I want to hear your thoughts on his recent actions." Though she felt no compulsion through the Force, it was as if His very voice compelled her to do as He asked. "For the sins of the master are often laid upon the brow of the apprentice, are they not?"

Revna ​

 

[Revna]

Darth Carnifex


Revna was no stranger to darkness.

But nothing quite prepared her to face the abyssal depths of the cell she had been brought to after the savaging she’d received at the hand of one of the Kainite Dark Lords. How she survived…she wasn’t really sure. He had brought her to the very brink of death, but had allowed her to live. And when he had gotten what he wanted from her, she had been brought here and shackled down.

The darkness that surrounded her seemed…eternal. In fact, time seemed to not exist in this place at all, and it wore Revna’s mental defenses down little by little. She hoped that her Master, her cousin Malum…everyone she ever cared about…would come for her. Would break her free or demand her back.

But the longer she remained in the darkness of her cell, the more she began to believe that she’d been abandoned by those she’d given her life, her service, to. The pain that came with that belief was almost too much to bear, and her mind fractured slowly as hopelessness threatened to drown her completely.

She wasn’t aware that only a short time had passed while she’d been in the cell; to her, it had been days which had turned to weeks, then months…then years. It was enough to break anyone who was weaker, who might have been lesser. And though she did crack, she did not break completely. For even in the midst of her languishing, she began to notice that something wasn’t quite…right.

If she had been locked away for years, with no visitation…she would have died long ago from the hunger and thirst she felt.

There was no guarantee how long she would remain in this blackened space, but she needed to find a way to preserve her sanity. So to pass the time, and give herself a way of keeping time, she began to count her breaths. It took all of her discipline to keep it going forward, but Revna was - if anything - persistent and stubborn.

She noticed, as she focused on her breaths, the slight wheeze and crackle within her lungs. It seemed that the Dark side fire leveled against her had done enough damage that even healing couldn’t repair all of it. It made breathing…a bit labored, as if there was some fluid within the organs themselves. Something to adjust to…for however long she remained alive.

Young Revna was torn between a desire for life, and a longing for death. She wanted to live, to rise and prove herself strong enough to withstand this nightmare, to withstand the testing and trials her enemies put her through. But she also wanted the peace and silence that surely would come with passing on. She didn’t expect to live long in Kainite custody anyway, and so she accepted the fact that she might very well be executed at some point in the future. For why would the Kainites keep an enemy of theirs alive after they had taken all they wanted from such an individual?

But if she truly wanted to live…then she needed to figure out a plan, a way, to survive. And that meant doing things she utterly despised thinking about, let alone doing. She was at risk of losing it all…so what was she willing to sacrifice to keep a hold of her very life?

Bright light flooded the darkness, and Revna stopped counting her breaths. She remained still and quiet as figures approached her, removed her shackles, and hauled her from her cell. She went with them willingly, her somewhat dull eyes taking in her surroundings as they moved her along without compassion to her pains.

She wondered where she was being taken, and her mind pondered if she was being marched to her death. She accepted the possibility, and allowed a numbness to settle over her mind. She only hoped she would be allowed to die fighting.

Instead, she was forced into yet another chamber, filled with darkness that seemed almost palpable. The smog and smoke within agitated her already limited lungs, and breathing became an effort. But her new situation confirmed her suspicions: she hadn’t been trapped for years. She still felt hunger and thirst; and she still felt pain. It helped ease her tortured mind, and gave her a spark of hope.

Hope that she just might see the others again…her Master who was now like a father to her; her cousin Malum, her close and dear friend Zachariah…and even the wintry but beautiful woman that was the Empress. She had to survive…if only to see them again. Even if they hated her after all of this.

Revna existed in the shadowy room for some time, pondering what fate may be in store for her beyond this point. She was lost to her thoughts, until she sensed the arrival of another into the darkened space with her. Its presence made every nerve stand on edge, and dread prickled across her flesh as she felt the immense and raw dark power that filled the room. Her eyes spotted a darker shadow within the smoke, and she pinned it with a glare.

A blink of an eye later, the shadows within the room fled, and Revna was left to stare down the figure who had appeared in the chamber with her.

Darth Carnifex, in the flesh.

And he was far closer to her than she ever wanted him to be.

Many things washed over the small woman at that moment. Immediate sense of danger to her life, fear, anger, uncertainty…and a bitter hatred. It was all tempered by the feeling that she was prey here. Revna was acutely aware that she only existed and continued to draw breath in that moment, only because he wished her to. This was a Dark Lord of immense strength and power that she could hardly comprehend as a mere apprentice to the ways of the Dark side. Extreme caution had to be played if she wished to live beyond this point.

Her golden-orange eyes, glinting with the corruption of the Dark, narrowed slightly as she beheld the tyrant in all his infernal glory. She knew that he would not lower himself to be in her presence for just any reason; no - he wanted something from her.

When Darth Carnifex spoke, his voice rolled out like thunder to fill the space around them. He seemed to ask for confirmation of her name. Revna Sharr…a phony last name that hid the truth of who she really was. Did he not know that she was a Marr by blood? Truthfully, it may not have mattered to the tyrant Butcher before her…but she would operate under the belief that he didn’t know, and keep her connections to her family House to herself if at all possible.

But now she was faced with a new and different problem: the fires that had ravaged her had taken away her capability to talk aloud. She didn’t know if she would be able to speak to him telepathically, but it was worth a try. So she projected her mental voice through the Force, aimed at him like a spear, and hoped he would hear her.

-Yes, I am Revna Sharr.-

She neglected using any formal titles or respect or address for him - almost not caring if it brought consequences down upon her own head. Carnifex’s very presence demanded submission and compliance from weaker Sith, those too gutless to hold their ground and though Revna was afraid, she was no coward in the face of death and supremacy. Despite her instincts telling her to cower away and be deferential, she remained unmoving in defiance of his presence of authority and will.

Carnifex spoke again, and she listened as he commented on the actions her Master had taken over the course of time, more recent actions…though these had taken place months prior to her capture, perhaps even longer. The Dark Lord wanted to hear her thoughts on Darth Strosius’s actions. She tilted her head ever so slightly to the left as she regarded him in silence for a few moments. Internally, she smiled. The blackened cell she’d been bound in had been designed to break the minds and wills of those within. It had almost succeeded in breaking her too…but she had endured, if only barely.

But perhaps…she could use this to her advantage, and deceive the one before her into thinking that she had broken. Could she get away with it?

-His recent actions?- she scoffed through the telepathic voice. -My thoughts on his actions do not matter anymore, as I simply do not know what has transpired in the length of time that I have been your prisoner. He could be dead now for all I know.-

The sins of the master laid upon the head of the apprentice…yes, she recalled the words of the other tyrant who had nearly destroyed her; that she was suffering all of this because of the actions of her Lord. Though the situation she found herself in was far more complex than it appeared on the surface, she understood that she was here as a means to strike back against her Master.

An age-old battle of rivalries between Sith Lords and their powerbases. And the apprentices were often targeted - at least, that was something she noticed in her studies into ancient Sith history. And it was playing out before her eyes.

-It is quite possible that I am an apprentice without a master now, so I see no point in punishing me for his sins. But…if you so wish to know what I thought about his past actions…sometimes I found them to be…foolish. I did not always agree with him, or his plans. But it was not my place to question him; only to do as he directed me, as any obedient and loyal apprentice would-

She paused for a moment to try and bring oxygen into her stricken lungs, the crackling wheeze almost deafening in the silent chamber, at least it was to her ears.

-Surely you did not come to talk to a known enemy, Butcher. So what do you really want from me?-

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Quite diplomatic, a trait you learned from Alisteri no doubt. He has honed such speech to an art, straddled between self-preservation and fanatic violence. It would be commendable if it weren't so tiresome."

He reached out and gestured to the floor between them, which bulged out and began to rearrange itself as though it were made from liquid. The form of a table took immediate shape, and then solidity. A chair for her arose as did a chair for Him, although His was proportionally sized. A cup would also materialize from the table's surface, filled with crystal clear water for Revna to drink.

The Dark Lord then did something unexpected. He stepped forward and peeled back the glove from His right hand. Beneath the glove, the Dark Lord's bare skin was blackened with ink. From a distance it appeared as though every inch of His hand and forearm had been tattooed a single sleeve of black, but as her eyes adjusted to His approaching hand -- Revna would see that it was a tapestry of interwoven runic symbols, so tightly packed that from afar it appeared as a single mass.

His fingers touched her bare skin, and for a moment nothing happened. Then terrible agony lanced through Revna, a horrendous burning pain. But, to her astonishment, as the pain radiated through her body, the damage inflicted by unholy fire began to repair itself. In the span of a few seconds, though it felt like an eternity of agony, she was healed. She would know instinctively that the Dark Lord shared her pain, for nothing of the Dark Side could be so freely given.

As He pulled His hand away, stray discharges of electricity danced between her skin and His smoldering fingertips. "You misunderstand me, Revna Sharr. I do not seek to punish you, nor do I intend to wield you against your master; who has strayed so far from the path. No, I seek to learn from you, and through you perhaps learn from your master. I have always watched Alisteri Haxim from afar, though his attempts to shield himself from my gaze are numerous; they are all futile."

Carnifex turned and took His seat at the table, offering the other chair to Revna. When she was seated, He continued speaking. "I had always considered Alisteri Haxim as an oddity, a curious, if not brazen, zealot whose bark was far more potent than his bite. That was until he and the Marr boy managed to kill Darth Ophidia, who I considered one of the greatest assassins and swordsmen of our age. Then, he was no longer an oddity to be disregarded at leisure. He was now someone to take an interest in, someone whose potential could be cultivated. Unfortunately, He chooses the road of self-destruction, dragging you and the Marr boy down with him."

His eyes burrowed into hers, almost hypnotically.

"Tell me your true thoughts about him, Revna Sharr, and do not deflect. My patience for willing obstinance is not infinite."

Revna ​

 

[Revna]

Darth Carnifex


Revna narrowed her gaze as she heard the Dark Lord’s words; to her they were sarcastic. Her master, diplomatic? She scoffed aloud - or tried to, anyway. The effort left her in a small coughing fit that sent pain rippling through her chest. Her distrustful, wary gaze watched the man’s every move, prepared to defend herself or fight back should his intentions prove hostile. Not that she had any hope of fending him off for long.

Instead of outright assaulting her, however, he extended a hand and gestured to the floor between them - which, to her awe, began to shift and morph itself into a table and two appropriately sized chairs…one for him, and one for her. Materializing on the table closest to the smaller chair was a cup, though from the distance she couldn’t tell what was inside, if anything. The expression of surprise and awe remained on her face for a few brief moments, before it was replaced by the same wary glare as before, but she was quick to realize that perhaps the Dark Lord’s intentions were not as hostile as she initially believed. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have magicked up a table and two chairs for them to sit in.

However, she stiffened as every muscle in her body went taut when he approached her, removing a glove from his right hand as he did so. Her instinct was to back away and cower in hopes of avoiding any further harm being done to her…but she forced herself to stand in place and face whatever was about to happen next. Her eyes locked onto his approaching hand, and she noticed that it was covered by a tattoo that extended up his forearm, and just before his fingers touched her bare skin, the little woman noticed further that the tattoo itself was made up runic sigils, intricately inked into his flesh. She was stiff as a board when they connected, and for a moment nothing seemed to happen.

Then, pain pierced through her, flooding every inch of her body. Had she had working vocal cords, she might have screamed from its intensity. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut tight against the burning agony, her fists clenched tightly as all she could do was endure. The Dark side seemed to flow and surge its way between them, and a streak of violence rippled through her mind, and she was intent on attacking the Sith before her when she gained control of her movements again…that was until she realized something was different about this fiery pain she was experiencing. It wasn’t like the burning of the blue fire that had nearly destroyed her.

This was more…purifying. Like it was purging her body of its weaknesses.

What felt like an eternity later, the pain eased and for the briefest of moments Revna could have sworn she felt Carnifex’s pain too, as if he shared in her suffering along with her. Her eyes opened, glinting golden as the pain made her feel the Dark more acutely, and as she sucked in a deep breath she realized that there was no longer any heaviness in her chest, in her lungs. The crackling wheeze was gone. In fact, her throat wasn't raw and burning anymore either.

Darth Carnifex, her sworn enemy…had healed her. "...why...why did you do that? Why heal my injuries?" she asked quietly, her confusion evident in her voice...which she found to be strong, as if it had never been damaged beforehand.

Revna blinked as the Dark Lord pulled his hand away from her skin, and she tilted her head to glance up at him as she heard him speak. His words only brought her further confusion; he wasn’t seeking to punish her or use her against her master? He wanted to learn from her? And by proxy learn from her master? She watched as he turned and sat down in the larger chair at the table, and gestured for her to do the same. The little Sith sat in her chair, and peered at the cup before her - noticing it was filled with what appeared to be water. She was very thirsty, but she was still distrusting enough not to take it.

The thundering voice of the Dark Lord continued, and Revna listened in silence to what he had to say in regards to her master, that Alisteri had been considered more bark than bite, until he and Malum had successfully killed Darth Ophidia. Though she did notice that Carnifex seemed to afford her master more respect than he did for Malum, referring to him simply as the 'Marr boy'. To hear her enemy speak with almost borderline respect for her master and his accomplishment was a bit of a surprise to her. She wasn’t expecting that.

In fact, she hadn’t expected any of this to happen the way it had. Her mild confusion showed on her face as she tried to make sense of what was taking place. It made her pause and think, and slowly a shift came over her features. Her hostility all but melted away, though she was still wary, still cautious. If Darth Carnifex wasn't showing hostile intent, then neither would she.

Revna pondered his words as his molten eyes stared into her own. Carnifex asked again for her to share her true thoughts about her master, and gave her a warning that his patience for her deflection and stubbornness would not last forever. It was then that she knew he’d seen through her deception, and it was pointless to keep up with it. She took a deep breath and crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap. She held the gaze of the Dark Lord for a few moments in silence, before dipping her head in understanding.

“Sometimes those you least expect to bite are the ones who rip your throat out.” the little woman murmured before clearing her throat, still surprised that it was strong and clear. “I…uh, thank you…for giving my voice back to me.” She replied, finding it a bit awkward to feel some gratitude towards her enemy. But, now it was down to business. He wanted her thoughts, and so he would have them.

“I think he is a powerful Sith Lord, perhaps not the most powerful around, but he holds his own in his own way - and he's survived this long surrounded by enemies, be they of his own making or not. He has guts and spirit and is fearless, to the point where he is willing to stare both you and the other Dark Lord down and try to kill you both, without batting an eye to the dangers levied against him. He’d go for the Sith Emperor the moment he had the chance, no matter the danger posed to himself. He knows the power you immortal tyrants wield, yet that does not deter him from his vision, his mission, his belief. And I have the utmost respect for him because of this. How many Sith can challenge you or Darth Empyrean directly and fearlessly, despite knowing the risks posed against their very life? Some would say it's foolish, or stupid…and perhaps it is. But he holds tight to what he believes, and he is willing to stand by it and fight for it and die by it, if necessary. That to me, is what devotion looks like. Darth Strosius is a devoted Sith, devoted to his cause, his purpose, his path.”

Revna paused, her gaze sliding away from that of Darth Carnifex to stare at a point beyond him. “But…if I can be frank…I think he is consumed by his lust for retribution against those who he feels have wronged the Sith. His hatred for you all knows no bounds…he is even willing to hate dear Lady Talon, simply by her association to the Emperor. This is where he and I clash. I much prefer to get to know or at least try to understand those who are supposed to be my enemies. I want to decide for myself if they are worthy of my hate, my ire, or not.”

Her gaze snapping back to him sharply, almost predator-like. She considered seeking permission to ask a question of him, but she quickly dashed that thought aside. Sith didn’t ask for permission for anything, and she certainly wouldn’t. “Your tattoo - how does it work? What did you have to do in order to have it inked upon your skin? Did you do it yourself? Did someone else?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Or is that some kind of forbidden knowledge beyond my scope of understanding?”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Because it is in my power to do so." The tone with which the Dark Lord took was one of a teacher explaining a simple concept to a student, one that was obvious and self-evident. "To be a Sith is to impose your will upon those around you, to shape the galaxy as you see fit. It is of my opinion that too many new generations of Sith in our Order twist themselves into knots obsessing over justifying their actions to others and to themselves. Power is the meaning, it goes no deeper than that." In this, the Dark Lord succinctly summed up His entire philosophy, which was exemplified in the motto He'd taken for His house.

The strong do what they wish, and the weak suffer what they must.

He then listened in silence, never taking His eyes off of Revna as she spoke about Strosius. He never once interjected or appeared to lose interest, His full attention was raptly fixed upon her; for good or for ill. When she was done speaking about Strosius, He allowed the silence to build between them as He ruminated over her words. When He did speak, the sudden breaking of silence was abrupt and startling. "I think that you and I think alike on this matter, but not entirely the same. Alisteri Haxim is a very devoted and passionate Sith, but he's fallen into the trap many of our ilk fall victim to. He's become entirely directed by his passions, chiefly his belief of ideological purity. It motivates every action he takes, there is nothing he does that goes without pure zealotry guiding his hand."

"Zealotry is a double-edged blade. It is good to feel so strongly about the prevailing thought of our Order, if we were to be so vacillating in our beliefs then there would be no reason to exist. But our Order has survived because of our pragmatism, our ability to shift and bend with time and new conditions. Our evolution is our strength, we are never the same thing twice. Alisteri Haxim's ideology was born during an era of strife and upheaval, when the prevailing order was being dissolved and a new one arising. I don't believe he's ever truly left that time, his mind cannot move beyond it. That is why he fixates so strongly upon an idealized and abstract notion of revenge."

"What he fails to grasp, and what Darth Empyrean has grasped, is flexibility in ideology is imperative for our survival. Not the wholesale abandonment of our most sacred tenets, that would be suicidal. I have no doubt that Alisteri Haxim holds dearly to our core fundamentals, I would not call him anything other than Sith. But he is inflexible, holding all of his prejudices as immutable. It would take great effort to disabuse him of certain notions, chiefly those that he holds against myself and Darth Empyrean. You have inadvertently revealed his hold upon your mind as well, Revna Sharr, when you referred to us as Immortal Tyrants, a term more accustomed to the mouths of Jedi and their sycophants than a Sith."

"But, I can forgive him of this. He does not know the rapture, nor will he in truth. He seems like a man who would accept his death if it came for him, that is why he acts so boldly where others would exercise caution and restraint. Faith motivates him more than survival, and religious prophets become elevated martyrs when their life passes into the Force. Those that follow him most acutely will continue to herald his teachings long after his bones are interred within the earth."

The edges of His mouth curled up into a wry smile, a dark glint of mischievousness sparkling in His eyes. "No knowledge is ever forbidden, Revna Sharr, but only those who have the power to seize it can understand it. The mysteries of the Force, and of the Dark Side, are there for any to find if they are driven. Only the Jedi destroy and censor knowledge, because they understand it's danger to their Order. So many of their kind have been driven to ours arms because they refuse to share the secrets of the Force." He steepled His hands, "My tattoos are the culmination of years of study of our ancient forebears. The red-skinned kings and priests of old understood the power of mathematics and symbols, and they inked such potency into their very flesh. I have taken great care in rediscovering that power, and have made my own skin a tapestry in their veneration."

Revna ​

 

[Revna]

Darth Carnifex


Revna was still as the Dark Lord explained his reasons for healing the rest of her injuries - and it was a simple concept, one that she understood and accepted almost as soon as she processed his spoken words. He did so because he had the capability, the power, within his grasp. For a few heartbeats there was silence, before the young woman gave a short nod of understanding. She found it rather odd that she was actually agreeing with his statements; it made her wonder what else he would say that she might agree with. It made her ever present, ever hungry curiosity lift its head a little further.

“A simple enough explanation behind the ‘why’. Something I can understand and I agree with.” Her brows dipped ever so briefly as she mulled over his words. “I don’t understand why younger Sith feel the need to justify their actions. That is something the Jedi do - or try to.” she said with a soft scoff before continuing. “I say and do what I want because I can; if I am corrected for it, then so be it - it is a learning opportunity for me then. I suppose I was more…surprised that you would heal instead of harm. But that just goes to show that I have so much more to learn yet.” Revna said in a more quiet, reflective tone of voice.

Carnifex remained silent as she spoke and gave him an answer to the statement he had asked of her. The silence was heavy and reigned over the chamber they were both in for a few moments, and the young Sith shifted in her seat to get a little more comfortable, the device embedded in her back oddly…quietly. It was strange to feel a lull from the near constant pain it had brought her, but she wasn’t complaining. A brief reprieve from the agony was more than welcome.

The Dark Lord’s voice shattered the silence that had hung over the table in an instant, and almost by instinct the young Apprentice sat more straight in her chair, almost as if coming to attention. The suddenness of his voice reminded her briefly of the tone the Battlelords who had overseen portions of her training had taken with her and her fellow Squires; it was enough to make her zero in and listen with her full attention.

Darth Carnifex's initial statements brought a small smile to her face; he stated that Strosius had fallen into the trap that so many of their kind seemed to fall prey to, and she was amused by this simply because he echoed the same words her own Master and said to her in the very beginning, except in reverse. Revna continued to listen in silence, affording the Dark Lord the same respect he’d given to her while she had spoken. His opinions and understandings of her Master and his inner workings did amuse her to some degree; she of course was somewhat privy to understanding the deeper meanings and workings that Darth Strosius was trying to achieve, beyond his zealotry and faith. There was a trust and a bond that had formed between Master and Apprentice, and had afforded her with knowledge and understanding that others simply didn’t know.

Even if they thought they knew.

Still, there were points that Darth Carnifex brought up that she could understand and even agree with, in his assessment of the man that she had come to revere. Another small, knowing smile touched her face with his statement about Strosius’s more fervent followers carrying on his teachings - even after his demise. She considered herself to be chief amongst those followers; she was bound and determined to carry on the legacy of Darth Strosius should she outlive him. Of course…she would do that in her own way. She was Revna, not Strosius, afterall.

She had a duty to learn all she could from her Master and rise above his weaknesses, and be stronger, smarter, and wiser where he had not been.

“As you stated for yourself - a Sith does not need to explain themselves to anyone. You do as you do, just as Darth Strosius does what he wills. And who can say that he is wrong for it? It could easily be argued that your own point of view is flawed, and that you are wrong for doing what you are doing...and there are plenty who believe that. I can name a few as it is.” the young woman tilted her head in thought before continuing.

“But - I think it would be fair to say that you don’t care about the opinions of others in regards to how you choose to operate personally, and neither does my Lord care for the opinions of others - especially those of his enemies. He is responsible for his beliefs, his actions and yes…he is my Master, and he teaches and guides me, but I am my own person. I can take or leave what he teaches me as I see fit. That is why I said I don’t always agree with him, nor do I always see eye to eye with what he says or does. I do not call you ‘Immortal Tyrants’ simply because he does, I do so because it is what I see: great Sith Lords who are nigh unkillable, practically gods at this point and who - in my eyes - are tyrannical in their own ways.” Again she paused, weighing her thoughts carefully, before she chose to reveal more hidden thoughts - for good or ill.

“Truthfully…I admire the strength and the power that you and your ilk wield, even that of Darth Empyrean. I would say that I am envious of it, to a degree - well, minus the part of being a living corpse. It makes me stop and wonder how I, too, can attain such strength and power for myself. Of course…such things require immense sacrifice, as the other Dark Lord so kindly told me after he nearly burned me to death.” she finished with a dark chuckle before she fell silent for a moment, eyeing the cup of water before her before cracking and finally picking it up to take a much desired drink to satisfy the parched feeling in her throat.

Revna seemed reflective for a few moments, before she lifted her gaze back to Carnifex to ask her question about his tattoo, and she noticed the small smirk that danced on his face, the mischievous glint in his fiery eyes. It seemed he had caught on to her mild sarcasm about the forbidden knowledge part, and she listened almost eagerly to hear the Dark Lord’s response, and she was not disappointed. But his response only further stoked the fires of her burning lust to learn more, to understand more, to claim the knowledge for herself. No doubt that longing burned in her own eyes, though she kept herself composed.

“...how does it work, exactly? Do you just…think about what you want to do and then use the Force to guide your will, via the marks inscribed on your skin, or does it operate some other way? It is utterly fascinating …but everything about the Force and its applications is fascinating to me.”

The young Sith woman didn't expect the Dark Lord to divulge the information she sought - but she figured she wouldn't know unless she asked. Either she'd learn something new, or he would deny her the information and she'd have to figure it out on her own in her own time.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He laughed after Revna had finished speaking. "I do greatly apologize for Lord Prazutis' zeal, he is greatly loyal to me and to the eclipsing mission. He takes security far more seriously than I, and has very little patience for those who are perceived to be amongst our foes. But, he is a great deliverer of pain for good reason. Pain is instructive, my young Sith, and through it one can learn many truths. I find pain highly euphoric, enlightening even, and I endeavor to indulge in such nirvana was often as I am able."

With great care, the Dark Lord rolled up the sleeve of His right arm. More tattoos were revealed, the true extent hidden behind the rest of His clothing -- but it could be surmised that they encompassed His entire torso, arms, and perhaps even more. The tattoos seemed to become larger the farther up His arm they traveled, becoming more distinct and separated. It was only at the forearm to the tips of His fingers than they appeared to become obscured from a gradient to a solid block of color.

"Such art has been lost for many years, but by delving into the teachings of Darth Krayt I have rediscovered them. You could say that I am a disciple of Krayt's teachings, though I had not always been so. When I was a young Sith, no more of standing than you are now, I followed a Dark Lord of the Sith called Darth Moridin. Though He was not my immediate instructor, he was my mentor and idol. I, among others, were his protégé. He taught me many things, imparted onto me many truths. His name is no longer remembered among so many of our kind, but I have never forgotten; and I never will."

"In ancient times, almost a thousand years ago, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Krayt, ruled the Sith in secret. His Order, which has come down to us as the One Sith, ritually tattooed their entire bodies red and black in veneration of the Dark Side. Though the tradition has faded since Krayt's time, some of us have never forgotten our heritage." He offered for Revna to take a closer look, even though it would bring her within striking distance of His vitals. That He showed no fear or even slight trepidation was evident of His confidence, He did not view her as threatening. Then again, how could He? She had been reduced to speechlessness before she'd arrived here, broken in body though not in spirit.

He'd restored her body, but nothing amongst the Sith was ever done in charity. "I call upon the Force the same as you, Revna. My tattoos merely hone my power, allow it to be more precisely wielded. Beyond this physical form I exist as energy, infinite and formless. The power I possess would tear apart a body such as yours if I were to inhabit you, Revna. Such weighty power is not suited for corporeal existence."

Revna ​

 

[Revna]

Darth Carnifex


The Dark Lord’s laugh momentarily startled Revna - it seemed he must have found her particular words about the other who had burned her to be amusing; an agreement on the dark and morbid circumstances she had found herself in. Hearing him laugh did not bother nor offend her; she had chuckled at the recent, horrific memories herself. She caught a name - Prazutis. Now she could place a name to the face - if she ever saw the giant again.

She hoped she wouldn’t. She didn’t know how she would react upon seeing him again - but she had a feeling she would be seeing the brute at some point sooner or later.

Her thoughts were pulled away as Carnifex continued to speak about the other Dark Lord - and about pain. Almost as if to reinforce what he was saying, the device embedded into her spine pulsed and a ripple of burning singed her nerves, forcing her to clench her fists tightly in her lap as her nails dug into her palms and her jaw clenched tight as all she could do was simply endure. It was almost as if it was aware of what he had said. But that couldn’t be possible…

Clearly, she had not come to the same appreciation for pain as these Dark Lords had. Karking nuts is what they are, she growled internally to herself as the pain subsided and she relaxed slowly, her breaths coming slightly heavier as she forced herself through it to listen.

There were seeds of knowledge, of wisdom, being passed onto her - by her enemy, of all people. That understanding was not lost on her. She silently accepted what he gave her, and sealed it away in her mind for later recall and reflection. As much as she didn’t want to agree with him, she knew he was right. Pain was instructive; it was a very harsh teacher, far more harsh than any Battlemaster or Sith Master could be. Pain was real, and honest - there were no hidden agendas, no fickle opinions. She could trust in its truth.

With every action, there was a reaction. If she did something that would bring pain - then agony would come.

Revna watched with growing eagerness and her ever present curiosity as Carnifex rolled up his sleeve a bit more, allowing her to glimpse a bit more of his inked skin. As he did so, he found it reasonable to share with her the history behind such markings, and the young woman listened with rapt attention. She was somewhat familiar with the name of Darth Krayt; she’d done some studies and readings into ancient Sith history - though she hadn’t quite gotten to more modern history before she’d been taken. Names of Sith after Krayt’s time were unknown to her; Darth Strosius had decided it would be better for her to get a grasp on ancient Sith lore and their history to better understand the present history of the Order she had sworn her allegiance to. Thus, she listened with eager ears, storing the knowledge Darth Carnifex saw fit to pass on to her.

The small woman found it fascinating to hear a small bit of the Dark Lord’s past; it was difficult to even believe that someone such as he - as powerful and almighty as he was - had once been an apprentice much like her. It was easy to forget that truth sometimes: all Sith - no matter their strength and standing, had started out as mere acolytes, as apprentices to someone else. Hearing him speak now breathed a little bit of life back into her aspirations to rise to new heights of her own.

Carnifex’s admission that the name of his own mentor was largely forgotten by the wider Sith of the day, but not by him - struck a chord within her. One day…she might find herself sitting in a similar situation, the rest of the wider Sith having forgotten the name of Darth Strosius, but she knew she never would. How could she, after all he'd done for her - after all he'd become to her?

More information, more knowledge, flowed and she drank it all in like a man dying of thirst. The Dark Lord who sat before her shared how Darth Krayt and his Sith, ritually tattooed themselves in honor of the Dark side. That piqued her interest, and she tilted her head slightly as her earlier expressions of anger and distrust and even hate disappeared entirely to be replaced by her curious and ever hungry nature. Carnifex was getting the very same attention and expression her own Master would receive when he taught her or shared something with her.

Her brows dipped ever so slightly when she heard that the art, the tradition, had largely been forgotten. Revna was, if anything, a lover of tradition, of heritage.

“It is a shame that it is a tradition that has been forgotten over time. At least there are some willing to carry it forward.” the young woman said softly, knowing full well he could hear her. Perhaps this would be a tradition she could take up herself - but that was far in the future, if she lived that long. It certainly was of keen interest to her, and she pursued that which interested her with dogged determination.

She was…surprised…by his offer to allow her to get a closer look. She hesitated only briefly, before her curiosity overrode her sense of caution that rose up within her. Revna moved to get a closer look, casting a somewhat wary glance at him as she came within striking distance. Truthfully, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he wanted her dead there would be nothing she could do to stop him. He didn’t need a weapon in order to kill her, and he didn’t need to be within striking distance either. There was an inherent risk in getting this close, but again…if he’d wanted her dead before now, she’d be nothing but dust and ash on the wind. The confidence he had in even allowing her somewhat near was not lost on her; had she had a weapon on her, or in her hand, she would have been well within striking range of his vitals. In the back of her mind, she could almost hear her Master’s voice screaming at her to strike…but she knew better. Besides, she had no weapon, and the skills and abilities she did know would be easily brushed aside. There was no point; it would have been futile and frankly stupid, and they both knew it.

Revna let her gaze travel over the intricate marks, her brows furrowed as she studied them, utterly fascinated by what she was seeing. There was awe there, written on her features, and no fear to be seen or felt. That came with the understanding of the truth of her situation, and her acceptance of it. Again - she’d be dead with a simple gesture of his. And yet he allowed her to live, and even granted her this privilege of showing her the marks, and passing on knowledge.

The young Sith wouldn’t forget that.

After her study and inspection of the marks, she sat back down and returned her focus to him as Carnifex continued and shared a bit more. The marks honed his power to a farther degree than what was normally possible. He saw fit to tell her then that he existed outside the form she saw seated before her, and the truth that the power he wielded would utterly destroy her - though she found his words informative if a bit foreboding: he existed in a body, his essence beyond the mortal coil. Once again, she was reminded of how little she truly knew about the Force, the Dark side. But at the same time, she felt as if she was on the very precipice of stepping into all the knowledge there was to learn, to gain. The whole of everything was available to her - if she knew how to pursue it properly.

“I…see. I can understand why…I think. Correct me if I am wrong in this but, you have to inhabit strong living forms that can withstand this kind of power. I imagine it must…destroy and corrupt the bodies you inhabit, and you have to…refresh the bodies? Kind of reminds me of the ability of Transfer Essence, but I don’t know if that is what you are referring to.”

She rubbed her chin in thought as she pondered on this for a bit, before she returned her attention back to him. There was a glint of wary suspicion in her eyes now. She’d been a Sith long enough to understand a bit of the game to be played; nothing was ever given freely. She’d asked for the information, and he’d given it to her. But she had a feeling it wasn’t the end.

“I may be foolish at times, but I am not stupid. I asked, and you gave. But information and knowledge comes at a cost. What am I to pay for all of this? What will you demand of me? I…sense the other Dark Lord has some sort of purpose or design for me, though what it is I am not sure…so what about you? I’m not exactly in a position where I can refuse. I want very much to live, and we both know a Sith will go to almost any lengths in order to preserve their life. I am no different.”