Private Court of Miracles (Collector)

[Darth Carnifex]

Valo, Outer Rim​

The Crestfallen dipped down through the clouds, the stars fading behind them as the world below lit up in a thousand different tapestries. Below was Lonisa City, capital of Valo, and it was currently enthralled in merriment and celebration. Every few years all of Valo would be consumed by a Great Carnival, the entire globe lit from one end to the other in festive lights. Millions of Valons would partake, and millions more off-worlders would travel from far and wide to witness the splendor of Valo at the height of its Great Carnival. It was to last for many weeks, perhaps even months, with the momentum never truly abating until well after all were well and truly sated.

Slipping above the capital, the dark shadow slowly descended into an open starport. The ramp slipped down towards the ground, pressurized air hissing as a cloaked figure emerged from within. A small droid rolled after Him, lingering near the top of the boarding ramp as the figure paused at the bottom. He turned, hooded face concealed in darkness. "Remain. Let none board." The droid beeped in acquiescence, and the figure turned again to leave. The ramp began to pull back up, slotting seamlessly into the ship's ventral hull.

Moving through the crowded streets would've been a chore for anyone else, but the hooded figured glided effortlessly through the throngs. This was done in spite of His staggering height, for He towered over most carnival-goers by a significant margin. Few paid Him any mind, their thoughts too consumed by the joyous splendor around them to fixate on anything else, and those that did dared not to stand in His way. Nothing on this world intrigued the figure, save for a tent raised amidst the brightly colored tumult. The flap was open, and appeared quite inviting.

The man entered, and was swallowed by the shadows within.

Collector ​

 

[Collector]

TAG: Darth Carnifex

The Purple Tent was but one of many booths and shops that found a lot in the Great Carnival. Nestled between a maze of mirrors and a booth boasting ancient antiquities, no one quite remembered when the tent was put up, nor how long it was contracted to remain. As such, the tent's owner and contents remained unknown. Occasionally a neighbor's employee would set out with the intent to check the fuchsia fixture out, if only for a social call, only to find themselves forgetting such a plan was even in place. It was almost as if the tent had a will of its own, dictating who would find their way inside.

When one did make their way into the tent, they would find it to be much bigger on the inside. The warmly lit room was adorned by rugs and tapestries, no two looking like they were from the same place. Couches and chairs were practically teaming with pillows. Cabinets and side tables each cluttered with trinkets, some mundane, others promising to be anything but.

"Welcome."​

Lounging among the pillows, the owner of the voice (and presumably the tent) was just as ostentatious as his abode. Eyes of ruby were offset by the marred lavender chin that tilted up at the towering presence that entered his domain. A glass of dark liquid rested in his bejeweled hands.

"It's not often my home welcomes those without an appointment. How very curious."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The figure soaked in their surroundings, imperious gaze exploring the vast array of colorful décor. By contrast, they noticeably stood out. Their wardrobe was a blend of blacks and muted grays, a shadowy regalia that belied the nature of the wearer. The only color that could be found were the runic inscriptions stitched into the fabric, faint and thin lines of geometry in scarlet thread. Within their hood was an endless darkness, from which no light escaped, save for that of two halos of bright orange.

Eyes which now firmly set on the presumed owner of the tent as they lounged about the many pillows which adorned the furniture. The figure walked towards them, halting some distance in front of them. "I come seeking the Collector, for I have come to understand that an item of which I greatly desire exists within their possession. I presume that you are they, and that you are not willing to part with any of your collection unless an item of equal or greater exchange is offered. I have come willing to barter for that which I seek."

With a single hand, the figure drew their hood back. Light spilled over the face of Darth Carnifex, Dark Lord of the Sith, whose eyes radiated with the Dark Side, and whose forehead was adorned in ink by the crest of the Sith Order.

Collector ​

 

[Collector]

TAG: Darth Carnifex

The movement in pupilless eyes was fractional as they took in the figure before him, making note of fabric runes and what other information the traveler's muted collection of garb had to offer. If such a display intimidated the violet man, he hid it well, maintaining an expression of cool curiosity.

"Your presumptions serve you well." He noted, downing the remainder of his drink as if he were a guest of a party and not an owner of a business, no matter how ragtag that business presented itself as being. Each ring and bracelet glittered and gleamed in its own unique way, each as special as the items he kept up for sale.

As his most recent patron revealed himself, cool curiosity shifted to a sly smile that bore recognition. "I was wondering when you'd find your way here. I must admit, this is later than expected. No matter, better late than never."

"Come, sit. Anything to drink?" With a wave of his hand, pillows and cushions moved to restack themselves to better accommodate the height of his current guest. The Collector's own glass was quick to refill, remaining suspended in the air as the Collector straightened himself, pulling a deck of cards from his sleeves and beginning to shuffle. "Relax and tell me just what it is you seek."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"I am not thirsty."

The comment about Him finally coming was a curious one, one that piqued His interest in the lavender-skinned humanoid. In all His years, He'd only a scant few who seemed utterly aloof of the galaxy, content with their own standing in the universe. This entity seemed just like one of them, mysterious and otherworldly. The Dark Lord would have to be cautious.

Darth Carnifex lowered Himself down to sit, the sheer scale in difference between them almost comical. Most in the galaxy would be struck by an intense fear if seated across from the Butcher King, but the other showed no signs of fear or even trepidation. They simply went about shuffling their deck of cards as they would if it where anyone else, and not the most dangerous Sith Lord of living memory. Carnifex could not help but be somewhat impressed.

"I have been led to believe that you possess an artifact, one that is of great interest to me. It is a flat disk made of silver metal, twenty centimeters in diameter and ten millimeters thick. Runic symbols are etched into one side. Should you possess this item, then I shall reward you generously for its transference."

Collector ​

 

[Collector]

TAG: Darth Carnifex

"Your loss, then." The Collector breathed an air of nonchalant, rolling his shoulders as cards danced between his fingers. One card, an open eye pierced by a dagger in the place of an eyelash, slipped up from its fellow cardstock, lingering in the open for just a moment before sliding back down with its brethren.

A hearty chuckle reverberated his chest of which lines of both ink and scar tissue could be seen poking out of the loose shirt that clung to his shoulders. "You will find I keep a great many things in my possession. artifacts being but several. Relics of the ages past are such a treasure, no? Windows to days never to be visited again. Not without cost, anyway." Another card flipped forward, the image of a humanoid once standing at a cliffside, the ground immediately below them crumbling.

"But let's not waste our time ruminating on the past." Once more, the card disappeared back into the deck. The Collector's legs swung away from his lazed position, the being leaning forward to place three cards face down on the table before him before glancing back up at his guest. "Tell me, You who are Two, why is it this is the item you seek? And would you like to know what comes after?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"It is part of a key," stated the Dark Lord, His words clear and succinct. He was not one to bandy words endlessly with implications and innuendos, He wasted little time striking His point home. "That will open a door locked away within the vaults of the Aing-Tii. A gateway, would be more appropriate." That was about all of the information that He was willing to divulge, for the true purpose of this gateway was His alone to know. He did not fully understand the Collector's knowledge, but if they knew even a fraction of what the Dark Lord knew about what He was after, then they were an exceptionally knowledgeable individual indeed.

His eyes glanced down the cards on the table between them. Bakurat, a game that had long been the dominion of conjurers and soothsayers. He hadn't set His eyes upon the game in quite a long time, but He was still roughly familiar with their use. Divination of the future was something that the Dark Lord coveted dearly, although He had dismissed bakurat as being useful to His plans.

If playing this game with the Collector would bring Him closer to what He sought, then so be it.

"I will indulge you, Collector. Let the cards tell their secrets."

Collector ​

 

[Collector]

TAG: Darth Carnifex

"Only a part of it? My dear Dark Lord, you've no clue how little that narrows things down." A darker, almost indigo brow rose, curiosity piqued at the mention of the Aing-Tii. How curious, indeed. "Am I to assume you have the remaining pieces already in your possession?" ."

A wicked grin spread across his face, a tad wider than what should be in the realms of physicality, though just barely. "You understand the binding nature of these cards, yes? Not even The Ones of old could keep the events of the cards from coming to pass." But with no further objections, the remaining deck disappeared within his sleeves.

The first of the remaining three was flipped over with a lazy wave of his wrist. The ink depicted a fellow wearing a floppy hat, a fool, with an expression one could only describe as distraught. A stark juxtaposition to the fool's otherwise cheerful dress."The first card is that of what's lost. That which lead you along this path, what is sacrificed to continue. Like a hand numb to the heat of the flame, you know not what you stand to lose until it's beyond repair."

Lavender fingers from a hand bearing as much ink and scars as the rest of his person flipped the second card over after mere moments of finishing the first reading. "The second is that of what's found. Intentional and not, wanted or happily discarded. The prices you pay bear fruit, though they may not be for your palette to digest."

The final card flipped over on its own as if the Force itself was eager to hear the conclusion. A once-marvelous tower, now toppling to ruin. "The third is that of release. Release from this realm, or a barrier to be broken, who's to say? The crumbling tower holds many meanings. Most of all, however, is an opportunity for rebirth." The Collector leaned back in his seat, chest rising and falling as if the reading itself bore some sort of physical toll. "Fascinating what the cards choose to share, no?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Fate is mine to wield, Collector. The cards will show."

One by one, they turned the cards over. The first was the Fool, draped in outrageous finery, but stricken with a harrowing expression. It's meaning was clear, echoed by the Collector's words as they danced around the tent. Sacrifice He knew well, His mind alight will all that He had placed upon the altar in search of power and immortality. Bled of all emotion, drained of sensation, and split into two unequal halves. Doomed to slowly wither until nothing remained, trapped forever beyond all reach.

The second card showed what He had found, or rather, what He had taken. But it was reversed. The boundless power which so easily flowed through His veins was both a boon and a curse, for diminished as He was, His body could not hope to wield the strength He had fostered. It was poisoning Him, sickening His spirit, and withering Him to nothing. It would destroy Him in time, time that was all the more precious and running quite short.

The third card showed a crumbling tower, its majesty smote down upon the sullen earth below. It was release, but its meaning was muddled and vague. It could mean His destruction, or His liberation. His eyes held upon the card for longer than the others, His mind working out the hidden meaning within. He was resolute in His mission, to achieve what He knew was rightfully His; the birthright of the Sith. The card did not give Him pause, no, but it did make Him introspective.

It was entirely possible that what He sought was not entirely what He believed it was, but He couldn't say for certain. Though He had peered through the Force to gleam the future, that which surrounded the Wellspring was still murky, save for a bright pattern that His eyes could not pierce.

"It was as I suspected, Collector. The cards show the truth, and they all the more encourage the path that I tread. The Force bends as I will it, and so too does the flow of time. The future is already written, for I have scribed it."

Collector ​

 

[Collector]

TAG: Darth Carnifex

The Collector's eyes narrowed as he studied the Sith, lips pursed as he pondered the other's response. The Collector was not an active man in terms of galactic affairs. He was a neutral party made manifest, a keeper of keys and trinkets unbound by the moral concerns of man.

"You wear hubris like a heavy cloak." He said, tone somber in comparison to his previous speech. "It reminds me of another. You would do well to keep that cloak in check, lest it weigh you down." But even he wasn't entirely sure of the words as he spoke them. Was it hubris or perhaps desperation? Confidence in ability or an hourglass running low? All curious considerations of which the Collector would be most interested in getting to the bottom to.

"But enough of that," he waived away the moment of contemplation with a bejeweled hand. "This item you seek - I expect you of all would know such items do not come for free. This is a business, after all." A wry smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, wine glass back in hand. "Tell me, what would you offer for this key?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Hubris is confidence in excess of ability, Collector," replied the Dark Lord, "My ability is more than accommodating." Perhaps that were so, the Dark Lord was quite skilled both on the battlefield and off it. He had made a great name for Himself as a peerless warrior, striding across a hundred warzones like the avatar of the Dark Side itself. His followers worshipped Him, and His enemies did so fear Him; even if they refused to name the terror that gnawed at their heart.

Carnifex let out a breath, reappraising the Collector with baleful eyes. "I am in possession of many things, Collector, great and small; priceless to some, worthless to others. I suspect you understand this well as a fellow purveyor of curiosities. There are few things which are outside my power to grant." He spread His hands wide, "Relics from ancient time, original pieces of art, trinkets fashioned by the greatest minds of our age, many such things."

"You know what I desire, Collector, but what do you desire?"

Collector ​