Valley of the Dark LordsKorriban
Posted 16 August 2019 - 05:15 PM
He slowly wandered the vast red sands of the valley, ancient tombs were all over the world, Marka Ragnos, Tulok Horde, Naga Sadow, Darth Bane. Many great Sith Lords of old and he even wondered. If such a thing could happen to him. Who he would encounter, what could happen in this vast valley of the dark side was unknown. All Valin did now was tread carefully.
Posted 16 August 2019 - 05:53 PM
The Sullustan was slowly walking forth from the desert plains of Korriban, the wind itself circulating around the Sullustan as if to hide where he was going though rather poorly as it appeared to be a sand storm that just followed him. One could follow him and the Sullustan would none be the wiser. The heat never bothered him, as most of his childhood was lived through extreme heat and hostility. The creatures that still bear themselves protectors of the tombs nearby, did not approach the Sullustan. The tattoo on the back of his head, while faded, tells its own tale by just simply looking at it, a wandering man, a wandering shaman. Holding up with his left hand an extremely old scroll, he would unfurl it with one hand to look at the map that was drawn so many centuries ago while having his right hand resting on a rather ancient lightsaber he kept on his right side belt, one made of silver, of nobility. The other one was kept in his jacket with the left side belt holding two different blasters, a sonic one and a projectile one. Two magazines a piece on the back of the belt which if examined closer, appeared to carry more weaponry but as of right now, held no more. Stopping at the tombs location, he would the sand storm die down as the sand gently fell around him, as if commanded to be at rest. The tomb was half buried from forgotten amounts of time, the statue itself appeared to have been ripped out long ago, possibly from spite as he was over the location of the statue.
The Sullustan sighed lightly at the sight of the tomb being buried. The words of High Sith could be read above the tomb, simply translated to "Fumasu". Putting away the scroll onto the back belt loop, he would lift his right hand up as he started to focus again at the entrance. The area of sand around it seemed to shake and shudder almost as if earthquake was occuring right under him yet the sand would then start pushing out like a sand storm, going from the left and right side of the Sullustan, not a single particle of sand hitting him as after half a minute, it would die down as the entire entrance was uncovered of Fumasus Tomb. Breathing a bit raggedly afterwards, he slowly knelt down before falling into a sitting position, winded from using so much of the Force in such a short period of time, even using the sand to cover his tracks, even if done extremely poor. The tomb before him would not only show the persons name, but also of his rank, "Instructor", and also his accomplishments to the right side though only one name remained, vandalized through time. "Syniclus". The Sullustan knew the full history between the two for over two centuries though it has taken this long to get to Korriban, to hide himself through a few freighters and then the long four day trek to get here, which unknowingly was close to one of many training facilities on planet.
Posted 17 August 2019 - 08:42 AM
Inhospitable if not outright hostile, timeless and known for culling the weak, endless dunes of crimson stretched in all directions and spelled death to any who dared to stray too far from Dreshdae. Thousands of dead slumbered beneath the red sands, silent witnesses to each and every Sith to come. The ancient spirits of Korriban undoubtedly laughed very hard when a pink-haired girl who appeared about ten years old happily skipped along the crimson sands, singing a nursery rhyme. No blaster or lightsaber dangled from her waist, no sword rested on her back. Unarmed and wearing bright summer clothes, she cared nothing about the broiling sun or the occasional bone sticking from the sand here and there. Anyone to witness the child would make the logical guess of her survival expectations nearing zero. As her melodic voice continued to resonate on and on, several pairs of eyes grew attracted to the source.
“I come to you to bring today,
Not a luscious rose bouquet,
I don't have tulips or even lilliiiies,
So accept this petunia, pleeeease~”
A smaller gang of trainees, dressed rugged and posing tough, suddenly formed in Funami’s path that led to the legendary Valley. Their scars and layers of filth were in stark contrast with the little Atrisian’s pristine look. Everyone’s hand went toward their belt, grasping the hilt of their vibrosword, some even pulled the dangerous weapon out and let its edge menacingly shine in the sun. Only one pair of hands did not take up arms, opting to pose akimbo instead. The leader most likely; looking down at the pink-haired girl, he wore a condescending grimace on his face. Funami replied with a smile, though the corners of her mouth widened into a grin and sparks of excitement flashed in her violet eyes.
“Feeling lost, little girl?” The chief called and menacingly folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not sure what you’re doing here or how you even got here, but there are certain rules all newbies have to know. First and foremost; all are required to pay a toll. Emperor’s orders, I’m afraid. Better give us all you have, brat.”
Raising a hand, he aimed a finger to the side of the path. Two bodies carelessly tossed in the ditch desperately wished to have believed the blatant lie.
“Ah.” Funami muttered and resignedly shrugged, cocking her head. “Then I’d better act in the emperor’s name.”
They looked awfully pleased with themselves, exchanging smug glances and nodding approvingly, certain of victory.
Abruptly, the leader felt the crushing pinch of invisible fingers clenched against his throat, constricting his airway and lungs. A sickening crack and his head turned several hundred degrees more than naturally possible. One thud later and the self-proclaimed servant of the Sith rested upon the sands, ready to become another set of withered bones. Funami smiled no longer, eyes cold, body assuming their leader's dominant pose as she placed her fists on her hips.
“Fufufu~!” She giggled and shook her head with false regret. “Pity, such a pity! The emperor won't be happy with your performance!”
And her little legs carried her past the group as she started down the path once more, full of child-like joy and happiness.
Posted 18 August 2019 - 05:07 PM
Valin wandered the red sands, it had been so long since he was allowed out of the prison he was in, he even found the barren red sands to be a relief. Passing through runes that once marked the Ancient Sith that had lived and died on this very world, the tortured man could even swore he heard voices of ghosts, ghost of Sith damned to haunt the Valley. He was not ready to wander into the dangerous Sith Tombs, each one was filled with deadly traps, Tu'kata and for all he knew, there would be nothing to find. The man kept wandering plagued by visions, thoughts. He was constantly torn by thoughts of either killing himself, or killing everyone around him. Neither of which he could make up his mind, and yet the hunger for power would not desire the former. Power only kept him going, the secrets of the Sith were a way to that power. One that even he did not know, not until he was turned from his Jedi Ways under the captive of the Sith.
Wandering towards one of the Ancient tombs, he noticed two beings that had crossed his path. Everyday new arrivals came to enroll in the Sith Academy, a proud tradition that operated like any other time in history. With it came the familiar problems of Students clamoring for prestige of the instructors, some even forming packs against the weaker of the students. He knew that for the Sith to be worthy of serving the Emperor, one must need to fight for their lives. In any sort of way. Be it through sabotage, murder, back stabbing. It was a tradition on Korriban, one was the sight of a Sullustan, a traveler who perhaps came to join the Sith in hopes of opportunity. Perhaps plundering the tombs, but even that was fool hardy. Most likely making the pilgrimage to the nearest training center, the next being he saw was that of a young girl, who had just violently put an end to one of the roaming packs.
"It seems you're size is not to reckoned with nor your age... Young One." He said addressing the young girl, eyeing her curiously. He had never seen Children come to this world before even that was a surprise to him.
Posted 18 August 2019 - 06:56 PM
Her jovial dance across the desert abruptly came to a halt when the voice reached her ears, alerting the girl she had been witnessed. Two figures, two acolytes, two rivals, two obstacles, two insects to be squashed by her telekinetic hands. To her, they meant even less than the fictional enemies from her favorite video games. Crouching slightly in the knees, she assumed a started expression that feigned surprise, even worry. Those emotions never reached Funami's eyes, where treachery hid behind a veil of caution. Her spine straightened.
“Little girl? Young one? Heh.” She chuckled and adopted a mischievous smile that perfectly complemented the cruel sparks in her eyes. Just a child. The one she had killed moments earlier had thought the same before becoming part of Korriban’s deadly ecosystem. Still, the man’s words rang true.
She raised a hand, palm open, and held it out in front of her. Simply watching it provided no answer to whatever questions raced through her little head. The palm of her hand was incredibly soft and smooth as if never exposed to the strain of physical labor. She brought it closer to her face, scrutinizing it with her big violet eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of physical strength in her body, she had no muscle and everyone towered high above her small, underdeveloped figure. She was undeniably just a child in every sense of the word.
Then how come she had just killed a physically superior being who by all means should have ended her life? Funami never understood why she, of all people, had earned such terrible power. Slowly, she turned her hand, still inspecting it with some sort of morbid fascination only she understood. Undeniably she had won the greatest lottery in the universe, being born with extraordinary psychokinetic prowess. Just an idle thought in her mind was enough to crush her victim’s windpipes, break their bones, pull their eyes from their heads. She was born winner.
Finally, clenching her hand into a fist, Funami felt a sneer widen on her face and turned to the man.
“There are those with power and those who dream of power - and his existence was nothing but a dream.” She added with uncharacteristic maturity in her voice.
Posted 19 August 2019 - 01:28 PM
How many years has it been? How many years have a sat communing with allies and enemies from my previous life?
The blood red sands of Korriban rolled through the valley of the dark lords with the faintest whisper on the wind. With each grain a voice could be heard, enough to drive some mad as it echoed through their minds in a language long dead, but yet to come. It was a malignant thing that spoke. It's voice like raking leaves. It tortured all who came near the cavern with perverse thoughts and hideous ideas. It was rank with power and stank of the darkside's temptation. Hallucinations plagued the weak and those who delved into the grotto were plunged within a well of power that drove them insane.
It flooded the acolytes like a tsunami of corrosive energy. It fed on them, ate their spirits from the inside out and when they were but husk with empty minds it released their forms to go about and do their new lords bidding. The instructors were well aware of this corruption and still yet, with each breath of wind, the call came. The call of immortality, power, for those strong enough to withstand it. It was a test for only those truly divined with the blessings of hatred. The blessings of Rage.
The cave lie just before the Valley of the Dark Lords. Terrible screams emanated from it. Many passed it off as Shyrrack's looking for mate, but those that listened closely might find that these cries resembled a far more sapient nature. It was to the delight of the instructors that the students traverse the caves depths and find the source of madness. But those that did return seemed devoid of emotion, the life that once filled their eyes extinguished to a dull ember, but it was never long before it was snuffed out completely.
Those students that survived the maw would find themselves lashing out at nothing. Their anger seemingly amplified by ten fold, while the grief of their actions led to their own suffering, they knew why they acted in such a manner. He told them why, but they felt if they could only withstand the passion of rage that lie within their bones a little bit longer. If they could only withstand the power, that they might attain the immortality He promised. None ever could. The teachers would find students with training blades rending their chest to pieces.
In all cases it appeared as though the students had atempted to rip out their own hearts...
Still yet more followed the whispers and made the pilgrimage to whatever nexus lie within the hollow. It was a true test, capable of only being completed by a true Sith.
Edited by Darth Rage, 19 August 2019 - 01:29 PM.
Posted 21 August 2019 - 08:17 AM
Seemed that history had a habit of repeating itself, she remembered the last time she had set foot upon the red barren home world of the Sith. During those times it was but ruins, the site of a lost battle, those of the dark order almost sniffed out of existence, now, it appeared as if nothing had happened. Young acolytes being cast into the depths of the tombs to carry out deadly tasks aimed to cull the weak and make bring out the best in the young force users. Troopers and other military members going about training, and acting as guards for the many toiling away all around the planet.
For here though this placed served an extra need, a place where she didn’t have to hide her true powers, a place where she could once again dive into the dark arts without drawing attention. Well to some extent, she wasn't exactly keen on the Sith knowing who she really was, such would lead to two things, being cased around and asked to join their order, or just straight up killed as a potential rival of some sort. It was a fine line she walked each day, keeping secrets from everyone in the galaxy, putting on a different face for each planet she visited. Today, said facing being that of a washed up Knight, one pushed away from the battlefields to study among the ruins of the Red planet. Elise just had to make sure she didn't run into anyone overly inquisitive.
Edited by Elise Ike, 21 August 2019 - 08:17 AM.
Posted 24 August 2019 - 11:33 PM
Nearby: Darth Rage
The valley of despair that Lark wandered through was quiet. He could be alone with his thoughts, and ponder on the anomalous path his life had taken. Orphaned as a child, not an uncommon fate for a child in the galaxy. But what was rather peculiar was nearly everything that happened to him after the death of his parents. After he convinced his mother to commit suicide, he and his older brother were left to fend for themselves on the streets of Myrkr, a harsh, criminal-laden haven. No place for school children to grow up. But the two of them profited, despite their age they were naturals in the realm of criminals, slavers, and pirates.
When Lark's brother disappeared, he originally believed that the only one left that he cared for had abandoned him. Suddenly Lark was all alone, forsaken in a world that would devour him if given the opportunity.
The amalgamation of bestial sensations that overwhelmed Lark forced him to adapt to the cold world he was thrust into. When the orphanage on Myrkr took him in, he devoted his time to learning all that he could. Every book and text that was in the library he read thrice over. He commanded his fellow orphans, his willpower dominated their own and he forced them to do whatever he wanted, drawing out the unseen darkness within them. And, when the time came, he burned it all to the ground.
Thousands of people, burned to ash in a matter of hours. He intended on dying that night, and although the blaze kissed his ghastly skin throughout the night Lark found himself the sole survivor of the massacre. He was once again alone, and for the first time Lark's wrath was unleashed beyond Myrkr's hive of debauchery. In the beginning he mingled with similar crowds, slavers and cartels and their ilk. But after a few years establishing criminal connections, Lark found a higher calling.
The Sith made Lark even stronger than he was. He had a purpose, one that he actually occasionally believed in. He became aware of knowledge that would drive most people insane, forbidden secrets that many Sith were not aware of. Some of those secrets were chained to his hip, in a vile tome discovered in a tomb somewhere underneath the hallowed ground he no walked upon.
But now Lark knew that both his siblings were alive. His brother had not abandoned him as he previously thought, and his sister was likely being used and abused by some sick noble in the Outer Rim. They were the only links Lark had to his past life. He had spent the last few months tracking them down, and while he was almost certain he had found his sister, his brother still eluded him.
The two of you were miracles...
The quiet of the valley helped him think. He would track them both down, eventually. But what to do when he did? Would he be able to cut them down, fulfill his transition into the monster he believed himself to be? Or was there a hint of mercy in him still? His brother perhaps, might make for a valuable ally to the Sith. Perhaps that relationship could be salvaged.
But his sister might have to die.
Nefarious thoughts from a nearby cavern broke Lark's concentration. They ravaged his mind, wrathful and full of hate. Similar sensations that the tome on his hip emanated. Thoughts of rage and fury were not unfamiliar to Lark, although they normally presented themselves in a cold, unfeeling display. To cope, Lark adapted personas. No longer were his siblings of any concern to him. There was a source of power in this cavern, one that might be of use to Lark. He didn't know what it was he would face inside. Nothing that awaited him within could be worse than the hell inside his own head.
Posted 25 August 2019 - 08:13 AM
A power echoed through the cave that was foul in the force. It was a newcomer, a welcome addition for the horror that rested within. Albeit this one a different breed of anger, it was a kindred spirit to the evil that lie inside all the same. This power was wrought with turmoil. The ideas within the young acolytes head churned about and the darkness fed on them, whispering sweet nothings in the young man's ear. Playing on his fears, feeding of his anger, consuming his doubt like sweet ambrosia or sipping on them like a fine wine.
It was without a doubt this one was one of the more promising acolyte's the horror within had seen in some time. He paused as his head cocked sideways, listening intently to the cascading footsteps echoing through the cavern. Covered in blood and gore his hands raised themselves from what lay at the ancient alchemical table. Slowly a moan came from the laboratory and echoed throughout the grotto as Rage turned his back from the being that lay upon the stone surface. He sent out a wave of psychic energy that transitioned into a message in the ancient Sith tongue.
"Ri ma ka dek," (Enter and behold) Rage cared little whether the acolyte understood now, for he would understand eventually.
The telepathic message sent a wave of dust and wind through the cave, scattering the sands like an hour glass. Slowly the moan grew and Rage turned once more to the table, his hands plunging deep within the cadaver and smashing pieces and parts about and together. The man grabbed hold Rages arm and choked on his blood as the surgeon went to work forcing his alchemical experiment into the man's innards.
"Ka mak des," (Sit still) He commanded as he shook the other failed acolyte's hand off his arm.
- Lark likes this
Posted 25 August 2019 - 09:13 PM
The abyssal cold within the cavern only grew more intense as Lark descended into the unknown depths below. There was something dark awaiting him in the void of black, the scent here was different than the stench of dark the clouded Korriban. This was far more potent, and it would seem as though the presence, whatever it was, had been lingering here for quite some time. The Dark Side of the Force was so palpable Lark felt as though this was the origin of everything heinous within the galaxy. Wrath, greed, lust, resentment, fear. All of it seemed to trace itself back to this haunted locus.
Of course, that only served to pique his interest even more. These dreadful emotions, no matter what nebulous origin they claimed, had always fascinated the young acolyte. What caused true despair, and how could he best draw out these primeval feelings from others? Among other objectives, this pursuit of knowledge was one of Lark's chief goals for the past few years. Its what drove him to burn his hometown to ash, to leave Myrkr, and eventually join the Sith. Perhaps he could find more answers here.
The Ancient Sith tongue rang throughout the cavern as Lark grew closer to the source, bidding him to enter. Lark's understanding of the Sith language was rudimentary compared to some others, but devoted study in Sith libraries and forbidden knowledge in the tome chained to his hip allowed him to comprehend the messages conveyed to him.
Lark entered what looked like a torture room, with a shrouded figure either experimenting on or consuming a poor, lost soul. The man wasn't dead, although his pitiful moans indicated he likely would join the realm of the dead soon enough. Cute playroom, Lark thought. Blood and gore covered the floors like a carpet, and as Lark's gaze drifted from the decor to the mutilation, he tilted his head with dangerous curiosity. "J'us visita xis ki?" (You called for me?) Lark asked, a slight smile creeping onto his ghastly, alabaster face. Let us see what this purveyor of dark has to offer.
Posted 26 August 2019 - 10:49 AM
That scent, a pleasent smell, that of the crimson liquid flowing through most people’s veins. On such a world that smell seemed to be everywhere, death being a way of life, but something was different. This flavour wasn’t from some simple open wound, no, it carried a dark sinister twist to it. Who ever was letting this blood was using it for other reasons, reasons Elise found herself interested in.
Like a Kath hound tracking its prey the ancient energy vampire let her nose do the work, wandering over the red planets surface, soon coming to stand upon the cave entrance. From its dark depth wafted a delight sensation, pain suffering and every other dark emotion in between. It was like fine dress honey, irresistible and wild, she had to get a closer look one way or another.
With hear beating anticipation Elise strode into the dark depths, welcoming the shadowy world beneath the surface, eyes easily adjusting to the lack of light. Further in, the sounds of the ancient Sith echoed, eluding to a show on for display, her feet’s moving slightly faster in attempt to reach said display before things got to interesting. The short but exciting trip revealing a room of utter dread, occupied by a trio, their purposes and uses yet to be fully known.
Lark Darth Rage
Edited by Elise Ike, 27 August 2019 - 09:51 PM.
Posted 26 August 2019 - 11:19 AM
The room Rage sat in was covered in gore. Flesh plastered the walls and from the sickly pale skin grew small blood red crystal formations. Brighter crimson veins glowed within the formations and seemed to beat with a pulse of their own, but upon closer examination of the Ancient Sith and the room around them one would notice a pulsating light emanating from Rage's chest. With each throb of the light the crystals would seem to beat as well. Rage smiled at the new acolyte from over his shoulder, but his hands never left the innards of the poor wretch before him. The young man knew the Sith tongue, but such was a trivial matter. Rage would test him further. He sent a series of telepathic messages to the boy's mind. Pictures each more ghastly than the last.
The first was lightning striking countless innocents, their flesh boiled as they were lit aflame from the inside out. The second image was of a dual wielding savage, a Sith Pureblood much like Rage's self, beheading another Sith Pureblood, this one weaker looking, old and frail, but bearing the same clan markings as the previous. The third and final message was of a blade wielding Sith, human in guise, but monstrous in reality, he appeared to be at the top of a temple as countless hordes of other Sith clambered towards the epitome in hopes of ascending his power.
"Sezho, Mark'tar, y Warik," (The Force, The Guile, or The Strength) Rage spoke over his shoulders as the man moaned on the table once more. "Zhou shung hao," (Choose your weapon)
Rage said, Indicating for Lark to pick one of the thoughts.
Edited by Darth Rage, 26 August 2019 - 11:35 AM.
- Lark likes this
Posted 26 August 2019 - 07:48 PM
As Lark beheld the malodorous sensation of blood and despair, another malicious force approached from the same crevice he had just descended. A woman emerged from the darkness above, and although his expression did not change Lark was reminded of a memory from a battle that felt as though it was ages ago. The two had never met, at least not as far as Lark could remember. He'd undoubtedly recognize someone with such a powerful heart of darkness. But there was something familiar about her, he just couldn't quite place where that sense of familiarity came from.
Before Lark could ponder the enigma a trinity of fiendish images infiltrated his mind like a parasite. A stream of lightning struck a crowd of people, charring and scalding the skin of civilians going about their day, unaware that they had just met such a gruesome fate. What appeared to be a natural scene among the Sith, the young and strong betraying the old and weak, cutting out the rotting flesh of an empire in order to strengthen them for the conquests to come. Finally, a lone monster disguised as a man stood atop a holy place, looking down upon puppets who thought themselves strong enough to challenge the beast above.
The visions faded, and Lark was offered a choice between the three. I'd like all three, Lark thought with a smile. But he had a feeling that the mysterious figure would not be as amused by that answer. There was no wrong choice, but one of the visions was like looking into a mirror. One of the choices allowed the other two to come naturally.
When one was surrounded by bestial beings, in order to avoid being devoured one had to prove their dominance. Lark had made that his mission after burning his childhood to the ground. The man atop the temple and Lark appeared one in the same. Lark could parade himself around, gifting his angelic smiles and kind words to anyone he wanted. But that only served to accomplish his sinister goal. He would draw out the inner darkness in people, and make them just like him.
"Strength," Lark selected.
Posted 27 August 2019 - 11:21 PM
The full details of the two Siths interaction wasn't fully known, but if Elise had to guess the young acolyte was undergoing some sort of impromptu ritual of power. Thought ones eyes could not see the feelings perminating through the cave reaked of power and death, a tantalising goal for most sith that delved deep into the dark arts, but right now that wasn't Elise's focuses. No, the women's eyes were planted upon the two individuals,her feet quickly tapping against the hard stone floor as she circles around, getting a better look at their features
The first red headed man sent a small sense of familiarity through her body, but it was not the type associated with an old face, no, this person was familiar through description. It was an old story, told to her months ago, but it was still fresh in her mind. A Sith, of long red hair, fair skin and a deceptive smile, perhaps he was the one, that Sith whom had fought her grand daughter upon the world of Mirial. The other, now this person she had met before. It was an icy world, one that help a long buried Sith from her youth, that much she was sure of. Even through all the blood and shadows the froce told ones self this was their pair second meeting. What a strange coincidence.
Edited by Elise Ike, 10 September 2019 - 10:14 PM.
Posted 28 August 2019 - 06:46 PM
High above the Valley known to few sat a military complex, nestled in rocky crags and uninviting peaks. The Sith Imperial Vulcan Industries Military Complex was a formidable set up. With security that would dissuade even the most competent splicers, this was the pinnacle of Korribans military prowess. Sitting in this veritable fortress was a man with red and black skin, a tall imposing Sith Lord, wearing a cloak of Cortorsis and a chain mail of Mandalorian iron. He was mediating letting the energies of his former home down in the valley flow through him. His face was serene even practiced with this energy. Suddenly he felt a flickering, something not akin to the homeostasis the valley normally held. A voice cut through his silence "Sir we have several unknown visitors in the-" "I know" He replied cutting off the voice of the Private, over the coms. He arose and with a sense of purpose and an air of pride descended into the valley.
The fiendish smell of the power recently raise permeated the air. Following the smell of decay the pureblood made his way down into the shadowy depths. A path well trodden by his feet he stepped in with a sense of authority. As he found his way down the winding paths he saw three figures standing in the darkness of the hollowed halls. Sensing the residual energy of the ritual just performed he made his presence known. "Who have you disturbed young ones" He said looking past Elise Ike to Lark and Darth Rage. His tone was visibly aggitated as in a former life many of these many had been his close friends, and seeing their tombs desacrated for power to him was like driving a splinter into the nail of a prisoner, torture.
Edited by Darth Morgoth, 28 August 2019 - 06:47 PM.
Posted 29 August 2019 - 10:53 AM
Rage heard the acolyte's choice and their was a slight tug at the corner of his lips. Strength, how peculiar. Rage was sure the man would've chosen guile, but it was as the force willed. Strength. His eyes darted from the acolyte to one of the crystal formations. His face remained impassive as he closed his eyes and his arms continued to work within the cadaver. The crystal shattered seemingly of it's own will and slowly a bright red stone was revealed at it's heart. It hovered in air and slowly floated to Rage. An arm extended from his work and took hold the rock.
Rage turned from the body sitting upon the table and as his arms left it, the bodies life seemed to finally extinguish itself. The man slumped lifeless, his arms falling to the sides of the altar.
Rage stared at Lark and offered him the stone with an open palm. Should Lark accept the power he would find himself violently and painfully transformed, the crystal sinking into his skin and moving on it's own accord to his heart. Upon reaching the man's center his organs would begin turning from living flesh to hardened stone, Amplifying his strength from that of a human's to something more akin to that of a Wookiee, but all the while his visage would remain the same. He'd become a golem, but look human. The transformation would not alter the man any further... Should he be strong enough. If he wasn't then he'd become a statue of the crystal Rage just offered him.
Rage's smile turned to an evil grin, sending the boy another telepathic message. This time a picture of what he would do should the crystal be too powerful, what Lark would have to do in order to avoid becoming another stone for Rage's rock collection. It was a vision of Lark cutting open his own chest in a attempt to pluck the crystal from his heart.
Rage waited for the man to accept his gift and only afterwards would he address the other trespassers in his monument.
Posted 29 August 2019 - 03:10 PM
Some time prior to the current events:
Sith, no matter how far their birthplace, no matter how weak or strong they were, they all found their way to Korriban. Like flies to a carcass, they all swarmed to this place once or more times in their lives. Some seeking knowledge, others seeking power or both, but all attracted to that one thing in which the planet seemed to be drowned and drenched: the dark side of the force and like a moth to a flame, most got burned in the process, mauled and butchered by those of similar mind and disposition, as Sith did not like sharing their power and knowledge, not without anything to be gained from it. Darth Halcyon or Credius Arcosius Nargath as he was more commonly known beyond the sith empire's borders, was no exception to these rules. He had been on Korriban once, a long time ago with his own master; Darth Alepsis. It was there that he first saw the true power of the Sith, finally learning more than he had ever done before and it was also here on this planet that he had killed that same master, allowing her flesh to turn to dust upon those bloodsoaked sands that envelopped the planet as a testamental blanket of its dark, yet glorious history.
His ship; the Valkan Dagger, slowly descending near the spot where he had bested Darth Alepsis, where he had decided to forge his own path, his own destiny and where he had finally understood that he did not need to limit himself nor his ambitions. "Still such a wasteland..." As the sith lord's cockpit opened, the man jumped out of it, his feet carefully and gently touching the ground underneath, his armor shimmering in the dim, reddish light upon the planet, his eyes cold and white behind his mask, peering into the distance. "I feel it, there is a great convergence of the force not too far away."
When coming near the cavern where he was certain the convergence was happening, Darth Halcyon got interrupted by some snotnosed acolyte thinking the approaching man was some part of his test. Jumping from a nearby cliff, the acolyte seemed to desire to cleave through the tall, cloaked man with his neon red lightsaber swooshing through the air. However, before the slightsaber could even manage to scorch the very cloak of the Sith Lord, his hand had already risen upwards and frozen the poor brat, forcefully levitating the child in mid air. "Poor little child, you have no idea why you are here or what you are supposed to do...but let me tell you this, you have no doubt failed your test, as the only trial on this planet..." For a mere moment, the connection seemed to be broken, the acolyte dropping to the ground with a heavy thud. "...Is to survive."
A ruthless, merciless stream of black lightning escaped the Sith lord's fingertips, the very color of the lightning displaying the sheer force of will the man put upon the force, to bend it to his will and to his desires. As flesh got desintegrated, bone crumbled and all what remained were the charred pieces of armor and a single destroyed lightsaber, the Sith lord sighed a heavy sigh, both annoyed by the fact that he couldn't just get around uninterrupted and also because he could feel the pain radiating through his body, that excruciating internal pain which signified his deep connection to the dark side of the force, telling him his body as a human is not nearly suited for the vast amount of power he was able to extripate from the darkness.
Popping a few painkillers into his mouth, Darth Halcyon lowered the mask of his helmet again and made his way into the cavern, eager to see what he would find at the location of this so-called convergence of the force. What kind of creatures, what kind of monsters would be there to behold?
Posted 29 August 2019 - 03:59 PM
Valin was curious by the young one before him, how could one yet so young wield so much power. Even the young seer did not know that. Yet she took his comments in stride, and adopted a more playful and mischevious demeanor. Something that was slightly unsettling for the Sith Acolyte. Making his pilgramige in the red sands of the Sith tombworld. Yet he supposed that he seemed to have found a traveling companion, as he himself sensed several Sith converging on a cave, perhaps a tomb of some kind. He felt the signatures in the Force, and for a moment turned from the young girl to the Sith converging on the cave.
"You seem to know the way of the Sith, for here on Korriban as we all know. Sith must rise by any means to be apart of the Empire, and to serve the Emperor. If you wish to accompany me I will not object, nor make an attempt on trying to crush you. Foolish as that would be, but even I sense several Sith in that cave over there. I am in need of knowledge, secrets, a teacher."
He expressed to the fellow acolyte, for the man needed a Master, someone to learn from. Weather he would find it within the Valley of the Dark Lords. It was unknown to him.For he sought to earn his place within the Empire, using his visions into the Force to benefit the Emperor, but one does not get far on Korriban without a teacher, and one does not get that far in the empire either without one. His face expressionless due to the mask he wore, he turned to where he sensed the Sith, and moved to approach them. Reaching out to where he could find them. "Will you come?" He said looking back to the girl.
Edited by Valin Stryder , 29 August 2019 - 04:00 PM.
Posted 30 August 2019 - 05:28 AM
If he searched for knowledge, secrets, and at least one teacher, then that made two of them. The reassurance of zero unprovoked hostility toward her person conjured a sneer, for it meant an unspoken acknowledgment of her power. What was there to stop her from crushing him should her thoughts stray that way? Nothing, absolutely nothing. But, unlike her, the masked man could sense through the Force, and thus his life had value. However embarrassing for the pink-haired acolyte to admit, the ability to reach out and sense had yet to manifest within her small body. Escaping the weird fascination with her own might and lowering the small hand, she gave a decisive nod.
“Sure. Let’s go! But don’t go too fast, okay? I can’t keep up with big people.” She pouted.
Vertically challenged, with short legs, Funami did not lie. She moved with haste, yet not very fast at all as her little feet tread the red sands, tailing the masked man. Putting him under scrutiny, her violet eyes went over his apparel. Very Sith-like, some would say, the exact opposite of her bright, cheerful threads of cloth. Where others preferred intimidation, Funami had opted to look as non-threatening as possible. Helped by her small stature and adorable looks, it wasn’t a hard task to accomplish. Her attention eventually shifted to the gaping maw before them. A cave of sorts, maybe a tomb crumbling under the ages, with a smoking husk as a warning sign right at the entrance. Charming. Defiant strides forth brought Funami to the threshold, letting her peer in as she did her best to ignore the stench.
“Yo, whassup?” She called into the cavern and listened to the echo of her voice endlessly reverberate.
A shrug and she cast a look over her shoulder to find her companion.
“You go first,” the girl announced with a cock of an eyebrow. “You’re big and intimidating, after all~”
Posted 10 September 2019 - 07:15 PM
A slight smile found a way onto Lark's face as more and more occupants traversed the cavern and found their way into the irresistible source of darkness below. Ancient evils and minds starved for knowledge and power gathered themselves in this hive of primordial energy, was their purpose for being here the same as his own? Was it a lust for knowledge that drove them to seek out this afflicted site? Or did they sense the looming strength within and seek to prove themselves in battle?
These musings faded from Lark's mind when the crystalline stone was presented to him. It was a beautiful thing, red like a rose with an aura of power and hellish energy. And yet, Lark could also sense a feeling of consequence surrounding the eldritch stone. The strange hermit bestowed Lark with another vision, this one confirming his previous premonition. If he took the crystal and was not strong enough, he would turn into one of the crystal statues that decorated the shrine. He desperately clawed at his chest, scarring his burnt skin in a futile attempt to remove the wicked stone from his heart.
The gifts offered were tempting, and the consequences dire. But Lark would show no desperation, no dread to a mere stone, no matter how powerful it was. He was no simple decoration that littered the home of a psychotic recluse. Ever since he ascended from the fire he knew that he was so much more. This was just another opportunity to prove it.
Lark took the stone with an outstretch palm, and absorbed its power. He grimaced for but a moment as the crystal worked its fiendish magic, afflicting his organs in a fascinating miasma of pain. His heart that did not beat turned to stone, that at least felt familiar. But other changes became evident very clearly, as Lark watched a few sparks dance along his fingertips. He was stronger, his control over the Force seemed a bit more tuned.
There was undoubtedly a cost that came with such a gift. But Lark would deal with that problem as he did all of his others.
With willpower and blood.
Edited by Lark, 10 September 2019 - 07:16 PM.