Private Dark Sciences, New Teachings

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Valkholm, Dromund Kaas.

It was a strong keep, protected by four square towers connected to four thirty-foot-tall and thirty-foot-long rounded walls that served as both a defensive and decorational aspect. The walls themselves were large, wide, and made of a polished metal that somewhat reflected the landscape around it. As the walls were traversable from within, wide windows had been constructed as well and were scattered generously around the walls in seemingly perfect symmetry and could be opened from within to allow the defenders to fire out. The only clear way to enter the keep, aside from perhaps climbing the walls, which was near impossible given the rounded design, was a vast gate with hefty stone doors inscribed with various runes and hieroglyphics that seemed to glow with a strong blue aura whenever they were opened.

It was a beautiful stretch of land at the base of the mountain ranges, the loose topping of the thick layers of snow blowing across the field outside the walls in billows, dancing in the air like lovers entwined, blasting against the bare form of the Devil Lion who was occupying the body a Proxy. The trees in the distance, which had at one time in history been tall jungle ferns and thick gum trees, bent in the wind that roared loudly and swiftly.

If the Devil Lion, or anyone inside the keep, were to look in-between these trees, they would notice the reptilian shapes rushing through the clearings, a sharp hiss flying with the wind into the ears of those watching. These shapes, these reptilian creatures, the Ticsiti, would serve as the first test for those seeking the Keep. For those seeking to learn at the feet of the Devil Lion. As luck would have it, at least for the Pyramid of Scientific Advancement, such seekers began to appear in the trees, braving the winter cold and the hidden demons that would hunt them down one by one.

Turning away from the trees, the Devil Lion looked upon the ground side interior of his keep, which was where the true magic of construction shined. Per his design choice and usage of his mastered Sith Magic, the keep's' interior possessed a freshly cut field of grass that seemed invulnerable to the snow, never once being covered by it and never crunching from the biting cold. Along with this field of grass were several crates of supplies recently delivered, various speeders, one shuttle to take passengers to the ship in orbit, and several stations apparently designed for crafting and forms of scientific research. The soldiers stationed inside the keep could not guess as to why their liege had set up these stations and for what purpose they would truly hold in the ever-shifting complex schemes of the Devil Lion.

Kascalion, of course, knew what they were for. It was why the fools trudged in the snow outside the keep, braving the elements and the creatures they could not see until their teeth clasped onto their necks. It was a challenge the Devil Lion had designed for the aspirants. A challenge of dark sciences that would lead a hopeful victor to new teachings. Kascalion knew that such a victor walked towards the keep at that moment. All he had to do was wait. And so, he took himself to the field and sat in the grass, staring at the stone doors of the gate, waiting for someone to knock.

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Ever since he first stepped foot onto Dromund Kaas, his pilgrimage had been nothing short of a trial. The bitter, freezing chill of winter had been one deterrent, striking at his bare flesh despite his expensive fur clothing, and making mobility for his prosthetic hand more of a task rather than something that came as naturally as his other hand. There was the snow, which crunches under each footstep and caused Telis to be wholly unable in his efforts to hide his passage into and through the forest, and left footsteps for others to follow in. Then there were the other apprentices, as hopeful as he was, desperate to make it to the keep and prove themselves. He despised all of them, and they despised him and each other in turn - it was a grim sort of comradeship, based entirely on self-gain, ambition, and desire. Desire to gain themselves a master in the Devil Lion. A desire to prove themselves. A desire to be chosen and seen. As soon as Telis touched ground in his ship, the Breakpoint Evolution, there was a tiny sliver of doubt that began to pluck at him like a knife. He refused to let it become anything more than a vice to be drowned out by the virtues of the Sith.

Without hesitation, Telis continues bravely into the frozen thicket, unclipping his paired dancing blades as he saw some of the other apprentices running hastily through the trees. They were all Seekers here, but Telis had a feeling only one of them would succeed. He would make sure that he was the only one, no matter the cost. The appearance of dozens of other Sith apprentices, all various species far more exotic and special than humans only prodded Telis onwards in his seeking charge; Telis wasn’t going to let himself become some human Sith lost to antiquity. He let this charge keep him forward and focused until he heard the first cries of the Ticsiti, some reveling in their early kills, while others screeching out in possible agony before being silence. His eyes flickered to the dark forest around him, and his lightsabers activated, the cruel red glow painting his body and the snow in a twisted red light: an omen of what’s to come. He wasn’t going to let this simple hunt deter him, however. He just needed to get to better ground before he tried to fight back.

With a stroke of luck Telis managed to breach through the forest’s edge, alongside a handful of other runners. In front of them all laid a barren field full of danger and possibly death, and it was no better behind them, as those that had run most likely stirred up the Ticsiti in the woods. From all sides they were utterly surrounded, and there was only one way to continue: fighting. Telis accepted this immediately, and charged towards the gate with a battle cry, Ticsiti no doubt coming towards him with his mad rush. Every few meters he gained he would stop, and begin to lash out against the creatures that railed on him. His sabers, guided by an elegant hand despite the youth in it, found their marks more often than not, severing limbs and cutting deep, harsh, cauterized and killing wounds into the demons, before he once more continued on with a spinning flourish. He perhaps wasn’t the most speedy or effective of all the apprentices, but he kept his focus on efficiency. He never let himself be moved back by the Ticsiti, and when he got deep gash right in his thighs from snapping jaws, he used his blade to cauterize the mark, before continuing on with his rush, all the way to the gate of the keep. Once he arrived towards the doors, he turned back to the open field, watching seekers running towards him - some succeeding in their desperate charge, while others consumed by the demons that hunted them down. It was equal parts horrifying and beautiful, and he almost let out a deep, resounding laugh at the idea that of all of them he had made it. He kept his sabers up, and used pride as fuel while he kept his defensive stance, awaiting the doors to be opened so that he could get inside.

Kascalion Giedfield

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Banging. Shouting. Crying. Praying. The sounds of those seeking his attendance resounded in his ears like the greatest orchestra for it meant that not only had they made it to his keep, they still sought his teachings and what rewards he had to offer. Rising to his feet, the Devil Lion slowly approached the stone gates, wondering what persistent fiends had braved the creatures in the woods and what they would offer him in return. Were they young? Were they old? New Sith? Old Sith? The Devil Lion was still older than all of them, far more experienced, and could turn any one of them into a venerable God. All he had to do was open the gate and let them in.

And so he did, slowly and with great purpose, the eyes of his Proxy allowing him to see the expressions of those closest to the doors and soak in every detail possible. With a light tapping in the Force, he could read their auras and sense their power. Some were strong, most moderate, a few incredibly weak. Those would be the underdogs, for even the weakest could come out on top through ingenuity and guile. Kascalion noted to himself that he would keep a close on them.

Brushing past the collected mass of hopefuls, Kascalion stood at the edge of the field outside the keep and uttered an otherworldly bellow so loud and so animalistic that the trees in the distance seemed to cower in fear and shock. For a moment, the building storm of snow and ice froze in place, signifying the Devil Lion's mastery over this patch of land, whether through fear or otherwise. The remaining Ticsiti that had followed the hopefuls scampered off, dragging the corpses of those that had failed the first challenge with them into the trees. Laughing in the grim yet almost emotionless way that only he could, the Devil Lion turned back to the hopefuls standing outside his keep and held his arms aloft to his sides as if he were expecting a hug.

"Welcome to Valkholm," he announced with a rare emotion to his voice, the blue eyes of his Proxy lit with contained excitement. "I take it you are all seeking my counsel and teachings?"

A few of them, mostly the younger ones with barely any scars and marks of the Sith upon their bodies, nodded sheepishly and another few nodded confidently, most the older ones of the bunch. Some nodded with expressions of confusion. One voiced such confusion by asking if the Proxy before them was truly the Devil Lion, who she was expecting to be much larger and at the very least armored. Kascalion responded by pointing the tips of his right fingers at the woman and unleashing a brief stream of red-black lightning that left her writhing in pain.

"Was that enough proof for you?" he asked with a curl of his lips. "I am Kascalion Giedfield, Lord of Ash and the Pyramid of Scientific Advancement. Through trials, tribulations, and experimentations I have reached one of the pinnacles of the Sith. I have stood before the Emperor himself and told him what should be and what is. I have seen little whelps like you fall and rise and fall again for over six centuries. That I have even allowed you to visit my home outside of being a cadre of my brother or one of my fellow Dark Councilors is an honor that you should recognize and respect. Now, to ensure that no one in that list of people disturbs us..."

Once again holding his arms aloft, Kascalion unleashed a torrent of the same red-black lightning into the sky, smiling a fang-filled smile as the lightning spread through the clouds and began to strike in a ring around the keep's perimeter, ensuring that no one would be able to come upon the proceedings and ruin the occasion. Cracks of thunder roared like a feral Cathar, and the ground began to scorch into barely isolated wildfires from the constant strikes of electricity from the heavens above.

Turning back to the hopefuls, the Devil Lion motioned for them to enter the keep wherein they would be assigned to their stations by the suddenly appearing Drall servant who acted with such giddiness, one would assume they were the servant of a Jedi rather than a Sith. Little did the hopefuls realize that the Devil Lion, contrary to popular belief, was actually a very prim-and-proper house owner who treated all of his servants with a rare respect.

The hopefuls would not receive that same respect.

Standing before the hopefuls at the front of the field of grass with his hands behind his back and his chest puffed in dignity, the Devil Lion explained the purpose of the second challenge: "At these stations, you will all find the specific materials required to craft either a suit of armor, a set of vibro weapons, a blaster rifle or pistol, and a lightsaber. You may craft one item from each category if you so wish, but note that you only have two hours to work. I will be looking for craftsmanship and attention to detail. Crafting many items will not earn you my consideration solely because of the number count. More time spent carefully on one item to ensure perfect results will have a higher chance to earn my consideration. Respect your skills and your craft and you will move on to the next challenge. Those who do not meet my expectations will be removed from the keep and sent back into the wilds to return home. And no, you will not have an escort. Is this understood? Good. Begin."

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Telis remained unshakened despite the harrowing events happening around him, his aura burning bright with not fear, but the ambition that had driven him. During the entirety of the dreadful moments where there was uncertainty of whether or not the gates would open, Telis kept his eyes on the bloody field, while those that laid dead and dying were dragged off by the Ticsiti, some leaving their belongings behind while others issued off mournful cries that joined the mountain chorus of desperation and pleading begging of some of the other acolytes. Sweat was matted into his air, and traced down his face as the gates slowly began to creep open, the vast, heaving sound accompanied by a victorious outcry by those pleading and begging moments before.

Without hesitation, Telis cut through the crowd, his sabers returning to his sides as he strode through the various gathering of hopefuls. Some were far older than him, and he could feel the force resonating off of them like a beacon. Others towered above him, dwarfing him in size and strength. Some were nothing more than acolytes, praying that they were the prodigies that they always told themselves they were, armed with nothing more than blasters. Those were the most unfortunate - ones fed lies that they could make it through this challenge. Telis knew there was a truth as right as rain amongst them:

None of those who were gathered were born with a destiny.

Telis knew his destiny was something he had to carve himself.

Telis stood at the forefront of the group, eyes like hardened steel, as the proxy of the Devil-Lion presented itself, majestic in its fierce awe, before pushing through the crowd. Without a sound, Telis ebbed from the forefront, letting the Sith Lord spread the group. He watched with rapture as the proxy stepped into the sullen field, and with a roar that froze the Knight’s veins, banish the creatures. He watched as the clawing victims screamed their last forlorn goodbye, leaving deep, crimson grooves in the ground with their desperation to stay. They had failed the first of the trials, and there was a collective sigh of relief, but Telis wasn’t so quickly convinced of reprieve. The same instincts that told him to duck his head moments before his brother was shot and killed was the same instincts that filled him now.

Telis was swept up as the crowd moved in its various emotions - pride, confusion, confidence, and dismay, yet the lone voice of dismay was quickly turned to pain, and Telis’s eyes caught the sudden lash of Force-Lightning. The rancid smell of ozone caught his senses like a perfume, and he stood watching the victim of the electrifying strike moments after the lightning ceased to be. When Kascalion spoke up, he was reigned in and raptured, and when he lanced the sky with the horrible lightning, Telis’s lips turned up into a cruel smile of amazement and wonder. The pierced heavens rained back down in fire upon the forests, and Telis knew in that moment that if he didn’t win, then he wouldn’t make it home. He had every possible stake to play for now, and it was both humbling and glorious.

He followed behind Kascalion, still at the forefront of the crowd as they murmured, before falling silent. Despite the beauty of the citadel, they were in foreign and enemy ground, and there was no turning back. There were no allies amongst each other, only threats and foes, knives in the back and silvered tongues wanting to pitch one another into the roaring fire. This was kill or be killed, but as Telis landed his eyes on the station, such threats melted away once again. He was utterly stopped, stricken awestruck at not only the details of the challenge, but the tools he had to work with.

What might’ve been a nightmare to others was quickly changing into a dream for Telis. The entirety of his life he had trained in weapons research and prosthesis... right now, he felt his calling come from Kascalion’s challenge. Even before the Devil-Lion stopped talking, Telis began to ever-so-slowly walk to the station, his eyes pouring over the materials that was present. When the challenge began, the Knight drew a breath up into himself, heaving a deep breath, and slowly pulling the gloves off of his hands, revealing the prosthetic appendage. From his sides, he drew his paired dancing blades, laying them flat across the table, and prying from them the identical blood-red khyber crystals, which gave the hilts life and malevolence. While others around him were still plotting and planning, Telis knew exactly what he would build. He had everything he needed, and the only thing he needed to do was take a deep breath, and begin.

As he lifted the first pieces of plating, already he could sense his magic running through the sheets and bonds, cutting through the sea of electrons. He imagined it as something different, and under his touch, the metal began to imprint with memories yet to be. He took a deep breath, and entered into an artisan’s trance, his hands flying over the components, fusing plates together and bending them into new shapes. Swooping, angular, elegant, and brimming with deadly potential. With the tools he was given, he not only created, but improved on, his concept of what a lightsaber should be. Tracing right beneath the surface of the silvery, blast-resistant metal, her underlaid a latticework of wires like veins, connecting the heat sink to the core, and then to the blade. He cut the lenses of the blade as thin as possible, making sure that the blade would remain as pure as the core of a star, and as undiluted in its saturation and energy. And for every piece he crafted, he made a twin of it perfectly, building two identical hilts - twins, brother and sister, deadly in their bond.

When time began to reach its eve, Telis would finally take the locus-infected crystals, putting them into the two hilts. For a few moments, he would simply look down upon the finished product of the blade, and while it was beautifully crafted and as close to cutting-edge saber technology as he could afford to build with the time and materials he had, there was still one aspect, yet to be revealed. Lifting the sabers into his hands, he balanced the weight of them, smiling as he gripped onto the chitin-like grip of the deep-grooved, molded handle. They fit him well, and with a single click from both sabers, he let them leap to life.

Jumping from the chasms at the end of each blade were the long plasma blades, a bright crimson, as radiant as a dying star and solid as a pulsar’s beam, yet from the base of each blade leapt sparks, with lances of energy dancing through the base of the crimson blade - not bugs, but rather features. Proof of Telis’s ability to not only make a blade that worked well, but make one that could inspire fear and individualize itself from all others. Raising the twinned dancers high, he would let the lengthened spin between his fingers, before bringing the deadly instruments in a raking motion across the air, clashing them together, and finally letting them rest at his sides, the bloody radiance retracting once more into the meek chasm.

Time was up, and after two hours, Telis had only these sabers to show. He would place them on the workbench, grabbing his gloves, and putting them in a pocket hidden amongst his heavy clothing. Reclaiming the weapons, he would hold them out, letting Kascalion see the hilts as a full, finished project. His breathing was deep and purposeful, and didn’t betray any notion to the mixture of possible fear that he felt, coming in and leaving as faithfully as the tide. The last thing Telis could do now was keep his stoicism up, and trust not in his own skills, but in the folly of the other acolytes. Now, he needed everybody here to know, that he stood alone, yet waiting to be molded.

Kascalion Giedfield

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

The Devil Lion watched with great interest as each of the prospects immediately set out to accomplish the goal put before them, their once conflicted hearts and minds now set to a solid purpose and desire. It was clear from the onset that many would fail to either follow his instructions and suggestions or simply fail to produce anything of note entirely. Some would most certainly advance to the third trial, but only a few from that group would reach the final trial. And from there, only one of a possible three that he could identify from the beginning would be chosen as his apprentice.

Of those three, he saw the most potential in the Sith Pureblood, a black-haired woman of impeccable genetics and a respectable family history that he could identify with a simple glance. She presented herself with an aura of confidence and yet an understandable fear for this was her first true test in her time within the Empire. That she made it this far spoke highly of her innate skills and chances in the future. Her project appeared to be a suit of armor designed to the exact proportions of the proxy the Devil Lion was inhabiting that day, engraved and gleaming with the polished perfection Sith Purebloods prided themselves on.

A fearful, yet ambitious sycophant. As any Sith apprentice should be.

The other two were, admittedly, just as impressive to the Devil Lion as the Pureblood, although their lack of sycophantic creations perhaps caused him to unfairly judge them from the start. Regardless, their apparent creations were well underway by the time he waltzed over to their stations, the storm crackling through the weeping heavens above yet dropping nary a splash of rain or a spear of lighting inside the keep's walls.

The cybernetic man, who Kascalion identified as Telis Taharin by reaching into his mind and thus his memories, an action that would have no doubt gone unnoticed by the fervently working man who was so preoccupied with his craft that he seemed utterly oblivious to the outside world. He was confident in himself and possessed an intriguing giddiness to the trial that the others did not as if he were truly fearless in the face of possible damnation. Kascalion silently noted to himself to possibly spare the man should he fail the trials.

The third was a red-skinned Twi'Lek, working quickly and heavy-handedly on a large vibroaxe with blades on either side of the staff. It was a crude weapon by Kascalion's standards, although one of his proxies would certainly find effectiveness with it and it was sure to cause a level of unmitigated damage. However, it was not the weapon that drew Kascalion's consideration, but the Twi'Lek's barely suppressed rage, one that the Devil Lion could hone into a true power.

"The Pureblood would bring us great political results, Lord Giedfield," a breathy voice uttered deep in the chasms underneath the keep, bringing Kascalion's consciousness briefly back to his true lair, leaving the Proxy to stand cross-armed and motionless in front of the third main prospect's station.

Turning his massive, semi-ethereal form upon his slab of blackened rock, the Devil Lion locked eyes with the lean form of Devhayl Hangate, a creation of his crafted with completely free will. Cloned from an imprisoned Jedi Kascalion had taken a liking to, Devhayl was his most loyal servant and most trusted friend and the only one he would show emotions beyond pragmatism towards. He was red-haired, tall and thin with an air of joy around him and a wide perpetual smile of pearly teeth. The Devil Lion enjoyed his companionship, so much so that he was commonly driven to request that the man remain within the walls of the keep so as to avoid harm, although such requests were rarely needed as Devhayl was almost always preoccupied with the upkeep of the structure's lowermost levels.

"I assume you have been watching as I have," Kascalion chuckled lightly, somewhat shaking the chasm with the noise. "And the other two? What of them?"

Devhayl adopted a thoughtful stance, mockingly bringing his index finger and thumb to his chin, "If you mean the cyborg...he can bring something to the table. Ingenuity in fact, if he is indeed doing what I think he is. The Twi'Lek...a type of aggression perhaps."

"I find it troubling that you can pick out who I chose as my main prospects," Kascalion chuckled once more, moving back to position to return to the proxy.

"Only because you made me, my Lord," Devhayl shrugged, waving as his creator returned to the surface.

For hours did he watch the prospects work and work and work, some less diligently than others and some more feverishly than others. Upon the dusk of the time given, Kascalion gave off another ordering roar, startling those still working into stopping. Without another word, the Devil Lion began examining each station with deep insight and inquiries. The first two were thrown out of the keep by the Sith Lord himself, their work utterly shameful and lacking in all sense and practicality. Their screams as the storm outside the keep seemed to target them specifically were shrill albeit swift before all well silent again.

The next two were somewhat better but were unfortunately not up to par for Kascalion's expectations, the blasters they both crafted too heavy, too large, and too unstable. Both were granted swift deaths by the Devil Lion's own hand, their necks broken in mere seconds. Their bodies were subsequently dragged off into the depths of the keep by the Drall servant from before and his apparent droid companions.

The third set of two contestants included the Sith Pureblood whose armor was perfectly formed to the Devil Lion's proxy as expected, polished to the point of being reflective like a mirror and engraved with glowing Sith runes of power and scripture from her family line as a personal touch. Naturally, this work of art granted her survival and passage into the next trial. The woman across from her was not so lucky, her set of daggers and attempt at an armor piece being too clunky to be used by anyone of skill. She was thus dragged off by the droids and thrown to the outside fields where she would quickly meet her end by the storm, not even able to utter a complete plea for a second chance, her head incinerated to ash by three direct strikes to her cranium.

The fourth set included the Twi'Lek whose axe was surprisingly poorly designed, the blades too wide and too thick to properly chop and cut. Expressing his disappointment and hatred of being wrong, the Twi'Lek was subject to a quick and powerful stream of lightning to his chest, crumpling into a heap in shock before being dragged out into the storm where his whimpers were cut short. His opponent's will broke upon this sight and attempted to run into the keep only to be utterly eradicated into several charred pieces by the Drall servant who had quickly retrieved the heavy blaster rifle from a competitor in the next set, thus ironically proving their success and survival. Examining the rifle for aesthetics and attention to detail, Kascalion was pleased to see Sith scripture written upon the rifle. The crafter across from him was none other Telis Taharin who presented his dual lightsabers that the Devil Lion had seen him ignite upon their completion.

Gripping both hilts into his clawed hands, Kascalion found that their weight was surprisingly equal, even for his larger form, and were deeply and beautifully designed. The chitin handle coverings were a marvelous addition and provided a personalized style only the creator could produce. Igniting the sabers, Kascalion was impressed by the seemingly dangerous design of the blades, the sparks and streams of electricity that could be considered an apparent mistake of the crafter, but was truly a purposeful design, one meant to strike fear into victims.

"This is a weapon of great construction, Telis Taharin," Kascalion uttered without stopping himself, truly drawn by the design of the weapon, before cautiously placing the set back onto the station. "See if you can live to use them."

Moving onto the last set, Kascalion found only the other lightsaber crafted to be barely acceptable for survival and passage, the handle and blade plain and basic and uninspired. Only because it was such a rare weapon in the competition was the crafter, who was humorously the same woman who had questioned his legitimacy as Kascalion Giedfield, allowed to survive. However, she was forced to watch as the man across from her was pierced by several imperceivable blades, skewered to the ground of the keep. Luckily for her, she merely laughed and chalked it off as the mere expulsion of the weak, as a true Sith should.

Gathering the four competitors in front of him, Kascalion merely tossed his arms out in apparent frustration, "Well, this certainly is less than I expected. I was hoping for more, but I suppose this will speed things along. Very well, are there any questions for what awaits you or objections regarding the fates of those who were not as lucky as you?"

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Telis’s composure began to drop as the Proxy made his round through the contestants. What was once nothing but pure confidence and giddiness in his art, was quickly spent out and turned to nerve and fright. It had gone beyond his focus that he should’ve made a craft for Kascalion rather than himself, and he knew that he would end up paying for his ambition and selfishness, but a work of art was still a work of art, and if he had to sacrifice the two sabers to Kascalion to earn his survival, then so be it.

Watching the two contestants fall like rain in a storm, he had to take a deep breath, thinking about exactly why he had come here. This wasn’t just a joke anymore - this was real, and he very well could’ve walked right into his own death. But, as the laid eyes on their creations, he found the flaws in their artwork, and noticed them in the next girl. He found himself at ease, as the young woman’s screams lashed the air like a whip, before the hand of the storm retorted with its three own beatings. He flinched at the first bolt, but as the second two struck, he found himself at ease, his fear quelled.

As he watched Kascalion moved on, he saw the horrible treatment that was laid into the Twi’Lek, almost feeling pity for the competitor. Almost. He watched once more as the lightning danced across the sky, and the smell of rancorous ozone fill his nose with the horrible yet somewhat addictive stench that followed the thrum of thunder. He watched, like a hunter, the whimpering body, and once more felt his hair stand on end as the storm silenced the disappointment. Yet, he was quickly taken from his almost meditative reflection as the sprinter began to make a run, followed by the Droll grabbing the rifle of his neighbor, and blasting the poor acolyte to pieces. Telis had never been a fan of gore or complete evisceration, but he did his best to keep the slight nausea within. Such things were not needed now.

As Kascalion turned his eyes on him, Telis straightened like a sergeant, presenting his crafts like men at a mark, his arms crossing as they were lifted from his palms, and inspected by the great devil-lion. Telis’s eyes watched the blades jump to life with Kascalion’s eyes pouring over them like molten rock. He was voiceless as the inspection went on, and as he lowered the blades back onto the bench, his compliments of his craft and the ominous finishing statement was as relieving to Taharin as water was to a wanderer. As Kascalion turned away, he took in a deep breath, calming his nerves. He survived for one more round - one step closer to true salvation.

Kascalion’s last inspection went without Telis’s interest, his apathy and ambition grown from his success like a festering upon the sick. He watched as the man from the final pair was made mincemeat from, and he allowed a smile to come to his face. Only four survivors survived the trial, such expectations were now higher than ever, and yet, Telis knew that he posed more than just a chance. As he had finished the first run, he had held onto the glimmer that he belonged here, doing what he was doing now, and for once, perhaps fate smiled on his defiance of what should’ve happened. His glimmer of hope became a fire, ready to burn and escape its confides. Now he had fuel.

Kascalion’s turning to address them was not unwarranted for curiosity on his part, and as he grabbed his sabers, putting them at his belt, he stepped forward, puffing his chest out as he looked to Kascalion. Confidence flowed through him like a font, and inspiration prodded him to speak: “If I may speak for myself, Lord Kascalion, what happened to those who failed is nothing short of what they brought upon themselves. I on my behalf have no questions that I feel won’t be answered in time, and so I am ready to see what awaits. Whatever the next step of the trial, I’ll meet it.”

He then fell silent, standing there bravely while not tearing his eyes away from the Devil-Lion, awaiting what response he may receive, if any, and prepared to move forward in the deadly gauntlet.

Kascalion Giedfield

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Telis Taharin spoke words of confidence, confidence that would be greatly tested in the coming trial which the Drall servants had prepared within the keep. The other three remained silent, although the Pureblood made sure to shoot the cyborg a glance of irritation and perhaps growing disdain. The Devil Lion was entirely certain the lightsabers constructed for him were the highlight of the first trial, something the Sith would take very personal and close to heart like a true acolyte would.

"If you would all follow me," Kascalion suddenly uttered after a few moments of silence and examination, "I will take you to your next trial within the Keep. Do not touch a single object you see within the halls or the rooms we pass through. Doing so will result in immediate expulsion from the second trial. And you all witnessed how well that went for those who failed the first."

Without waiting for an answer, the Proxy began leading the four acolytes through the keep, the first floor being surprisingly winding and expansive and bare aside from the apparent servant rooms wherein several dozen Drall chattered and wandered. The floors of each hall were made of a polished wood that clacked under boots while the walls and ceiling were of a painted metal that seemed to exude and trap the light of the sparse fixtures all at once.

Perhaps more noticeable than this rustic appearance, however, were even more small groups of the Drall, all of whom seemed to be trotting off to their quarters or to clean up the field outside. The competitor who had previously insulted Kascalion's validity cracked a silent joke on the clear abundance of the small creatures, stating that the Devil Lion must have an angel's heart to hold such affection for a weak species, although the Proxy was seemingly unaware of her smarm. In truth, he was aware but would let the woman's actions in the trial decide her fate.

Before long, the five found and descended the long, stone stairs down into a lightless abyss that allowed no sound or smell or sight, the acolytes forced into a situation where the Force was necessary to see. Eventually, they would stop in front of a large, strangely illuminated, chrome gate at the base of stairs and Kascalion would turn to the woman who had cracked her joke in spite of the expected self-preservation. With a toothy grin, or what could be ascribed as a grin, the Devil Lion motioned for the woman to pass through the gate.

"The second trial awaits you, acolyte," he growled, low and guttural.

The woman, taken aback by his tone, hesitated on opening the reflective barrier but relented on the urging of the Pureblood who was eager to continue the trials. Taking a deep breath, the woman entered, the gate slamming shut behind her as she entered into yet another abyss. For several minutes there was nothing. No speaking. No screaming. No shouting. No crying. Nothing. And then a bright shining light poured through the cracks in the gate and the woman uttered a scream so horrific and so suddenly cut off, it could only mean one thing. Failure.

Kascalion chuckled lightly as he turned to the remaining three, motioning for the man who had crafted the blaster rifle so expertly used by his head Drall servant during the first trial. Unfazed by whatever horrors had transpired beyond doors, he passed through. Several more minutes passed before, suddenly and unexpectedly, a loud horn sounded and light illuminated the base of the stairs, revealing that the walls were lined with people frozen in carbonite, their expressions locked in anguish and fear.

The light vanished and Kascalion could not help but make a noise of surprise, "Ah. He passed. Not one I have tested here in years past has been able to thus far. Impressive."

The Pureblood did not wait for the Devil Lion to motion for her to pass through the gate, rushing beyond the barrier and drawing a heavy sigh and a shaking of the head from the man she hoped would become her Master.

"Hastiness. I expected more from a Pureblood," he uttered with genuine disappointment to the remaining Acolyte as the light burst from beyond the gate once again, the Pureblood's screams cut short. "Your turn, Telis."

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Telis hadn’t expected the outcome he had gotten, but he was glad it wasn’t as bad as he was dreading. If anything, it was a huge relief that Kascalion only turned and left without a second word, as opposed to some nod of hatred at the thought of him speaking up. But Telis carried them confidence that no reaction was the best reaction he could’ve aimed for - he knew he wouldn’t have gotten praise, but the fact that he didn’t get backhanded was reward enough for his daring choice. Turning to look to the three other apprentices, he fell back in line with the grouping as Kascalion led them deeper into the keep, away from the courtyard and the remains of the first trial.

Walking through Kascalion’s citadel, the young apprentice couldn’t help but marvel at all the finery and lavishness that it held. It was something right out of a fantasy, and held a splendor that he wasn’t used to when it came to Sith constructs and bases. It called to him not as a Sith Knight, but rather as a noble and aristocrat: he wished that he lived in such a place, but his life forced him to remain anonymous in the face of so many business parties that disliked the Sith. Never too long in one spot, and never too open with the truth.

Descending further into the depths of the citadel, however, proved an entirely different story, and one that harkened once more back to Telis’s Sith nature. He could feel his skin crawl, and a gentle flush of color rose around his neck, red at first before fading alongside his goosebumps. He could feel a darkness here, and when the group finally approached the vast gateway, the apprentice was able to pinpoint the source of such presence as lurking beyond what he could see.

Barely a moment had passed and the pureblood rushed into the darkness... a for a moment there was nothing but silence, as the air itself seemed to hold its breath. A shriek broke the air, and before it could run its course it was cut silent, mechanical in its machination. It was familiar to Telis, and he precisión with which the voice was silenced - not a beast lurking, but a trap. He kept his musings to himself, however, as the other human went, and met a similar fate. Telis didn’t flinch the second time.

The third acolyte however proved a different story, and when he disappeared, the silence was longest yet. It continued, with Telis musing beside Kascalion, taking a moment to look up at the great Devil-Lion and read his inscrutable expression, before he was torn away from his focus. A horn sounded out, and the abyssal pathway flashed purple - he had made it. It wasn’t impossible, but if Telis failed now... then he has handed off his apprenticeship towards somebody else, and sealed his fate in the briefly-revealed carbonite. As the gates opened once more, Telis felt Kascalion’s eyes boring a hole through him. With a breath, the human shut off his golden eyes, and took a step into the darkness.

He was blinded by the abyss.

His feet touched against the ground, but as the gate closed he was all, utterly alone, his eyes kept close to prevent his mind from drifting into the horrors of nothing. He took another step forward, and felt the assurance of ground yet again, but beyond that he was unsure. He felt his heartbeat raise, and instead of suppressing it, he instead attacked fear with rising anger - this trial was unfair. How was he expected to pass? He was a human, blind in darkness... and if he was to be put into the darkness, then that’s where he would reach to.

“Peace is a lie. There is only passion.” In his heart, now, there was a new feeling between the war of fear and anger. It fueled him, turning both sides towards a common goal, while letting them rage within their constraints of physical form nonetheless. He felt this drive like a hot barb in his side and behind his eyes, and with a breath, he took a step forward, his mind telling him to take a step just to the left as he did so.

“Through passion, I gain strength.” Telis took another step forward, hopping now to his side, avoiding the central way and feeling an emptiness opening up beneath his probing consciousness. His emotions were now muddied, turned into a driving spark and moving him forward. He felt it burn in his limbs and ligaments now: potential to create, and potential to destroy. That was why he had come here, to show the world that he was more potential than just the politician’s brother. He was Telis Taharin.

“Through strength, I gain power.” Telis took a half-step forward, deeper into the gloom, bringing up the gall enough to put a hand on one of the frozen carbonite caricatures. It was still cold to the touch. Instead of taking a breath, he gathered himself, and leapt forward, before taking two more strides, back to the center of the passage. The Force guided him now, instructing him to shun and shut out the light - it would only bring paralyzation.

“Through power, I gain victory.” Telis would move faster now, his words coming as his heart rate increased with each step, his footsteps eventually raising from a gentle and safe step to a sprint with careless abandon, dancing over phantom traps as they laid in his way. He was surrounded by machines, and he could feel them as though they were the veins in his own body - he was one with the system, and he knew it would not betray him... because he would never betray himself.

“Through victory, my chains are broken.” Telis would continue his sprint, dancing in the idle darkness, the sound of nothing but wind in his ears as he drew closer and closer, feeling the energy and strength fill his legs, supplied by the passion and ambition in his heart - he was the master of this machine. Everything around him was his to control, command, and put down as he pleased. With a single bound, Telis felt himself leave the ground, and after a few moments feeling like he was floating in midair, he landed once more, settling in that one single spot, before taking one last step forward, and raising his hand.

“The Force shall free Me.” Pushing his will into the world, Telis heard the great groaning of a gate, light flooding his eyes as he stepped forward, out of the abyss as a purple light emblazoned the trial behind him. He was free, and stepping away from the gate, he let his eyes adjust to the light once more, a wicked grin on his face as he looked towards his competitor. Where others had failed he, Telis Taharin, had succeeded.

Kascalion Giedfield

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Two had triumphed where countless others had fallen. Two acolytes. Two prospects. Truth be told, one was a much higher number than he had expected, let alone two. In the baseness of his heart, the Devil Lion truly believed none could pass the second trial. It was designed to weed the weak from the strong, sheep from the wolves, prey from the hunters. That two acolytes, two possible wolves and hunters had lived spoke volumes to the man who feigned indifference and hatred for all sentient life in the galaxy. Perhaps one of these two souls would prove him wrong and spark the enjoyment of life once again. Hope. An unusual sensation.

The lights hidden in the endless abyss flickered to life upon a snap of the proxy's fingers, revealing the plethora of screaming victims frozen for eternity in carbonite, the woman and Pureblood now amongst them near the top of the rows. A shame they failed. Expected more from the Sith.

As he slowly walked through the room that once served as the final doom of dozens, the Devil Lion contemplated what it meant for the future of the Empire's line if even Purebloods, the allegedly infallible race who ignited the formation of the entire organization, were just as easily susceptible to the faults of all Sith. While hope had begun to burst aflame with embers in the recesses of his being, there could be no denial that the loss of such a promising upstart panged his soul greatly. However, the two that remained, particularly the cyborg who had dared to answer his request for words, still intrigued him just as great and drove him to continue the trials.

Kascalion soon appeared on the other side of the room's exit, his red eyes gazing over the two before him, his proud and surprised smirk a phantom upon his face. Silently did he motion for the two to follow him as his mind raced with wonderment at how they would react to the third trial, which perhaps was the simplest of the four, yet also perhaps the deadliest, more so than what they had just endured.

A battle to the death or incapacitation, which would lead to death via expulsion from the trials, in a deadly arena constructed by Kascalion's ever-loyal cult of fanatics, engineers, and scientists who believed him to be one of the pinnacles of technological and alchemical genius. Naturally, the man himself would vehemently deny such claims, although the swelling of pride could be sensed from a mile away.

"I will admit, you both impressed me immensely," the Devil Lion proclaimed as the three traversed a seemingly never-ending series of lightless labyrinthian tunnels and hallways, the glowing eyes of the owner's Drall servents watching eagerly from the shadows being the Acolytes' only indicator that they were on the right path. "But understand that that can all change within a second. The next trial will either secure my impression of you both or end your aspirations like a dying wick."

He left them to think on his words as the passages began to narrow and become more linear, less confusing, easier to navigate, a clear indication that the end of whatever venture he had thrust them into drew closer. The Devil Lion would quickly acknowledge that the Acolytes would possibly come to understand what awaited them next as the three strode past various closed doors and the apparent armored skeletons of victims past and the sounds of drums and chanting, faint as whispers at first, grew and grew to an audible roar of passion (X).

The Acolytes would be unable to ask any questions regarding these things, however, as, without warning, the three were besieged by the blinding light pouring through a barely visible iron gate. It would appear to the Acolytes that the light was emanating from the outside via torches and perhaps the moon rather than any artificial fixture.

The iron gate eventually became clear as day when the Devil Lion ceased the venture in front of it, allowing the Acolytes to peer through the gaps in between the bars. This vast blackstone arena, occupied by hundreds of screaming and jumping men and women of all races dressed in gold and red robes, rested before them, plainly settled at the base of a mountainous chasm hidden from sight. It would be beyond apparent to these hopefuls that they had traveled far, much farther than they likely would have anticipated, and that this was their next trial.

The gate creaked opened to reveal a lightly armored Nautolan woman, who most certainly was not there before, standing in the center of the arena's grounds, two purple lightsabers ignited and clenched in her pale green fists. The audience roared even louder at her unexpected appearance and again louder when the Devil Lion entered with his hopefuls.

As the three approached the woman, the Acolytes would be able to note her contradictory stature, standing roughly six and a half feet tall with a lithe body that showcased very little muscle appropriate for one of that height. Yet, they would also be able to feel her dark power, normally contained within veils of facades and lies, clawing at them like a ravenous dog.

Kascalion smiled widely, almost affectionately, and turned to his hopefuls, his voice high pitched with unanticipated excitement, "May I present: Hel Kai'dent. The Queen of Twilight and my beloved wife. For your third trial...you will individually fight her to the death or incapacitation. Telis, come with me to my private viewing box. You'll go second."

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

At the end of the second trial, Telis’s veins were laced with the confidence and ambition that made him an infamous economist, and he allowed a smile to come to his face, just for this moment. A wry, coy smirk, to be precise, while against his will the subdermals over his body began to light up - some spelling out the Sith code in green, while others in gold. A true mark of both joy and smugness that he had survived where others failed, though with the lights flickering to life, Telis saw just how many had come before him - how many hopeful acolytes met an eternity in imprisonment on the belief that they themselves were worthy. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, side-glancing his competition that remained, and patiently waited for the next step.

Eventually, Kascalion appeared through the hallway, a glimmer of something unusual in the Devil-Lion’s eye, but another thought that raced through it just as well. Without hesitation, Kascalion led them onwards, and Telis followed, moving down the hallway towards the next trial - presumably, possibly, the last one where two would compete, if the former trials were anything to go by. Kascalion’s words led a smirk to appear on Telis’s face, only for it to quickly die into a serious demeanor at the next comment - how quickly everything could shift for the both of them. To Telis, it was yet another chance to prove himself defiant of the fates, and with a tug of his robe, he fell more quickly in line.

The hallway seemed to draw on forever, an endless monotony that drove the triad far from the former trial, while dread feasted upon the aspect of anticipation - Telis couldn’t help but let the thoughts creep into his mind of what could come next. With the narrowing of the passages came the sight of skeletons and remains - other adherents who had tried and failed to make it through. Then, with the dead came whispers, an evoking and inciting chant calling them closer and closer, erupting into a fiery call for blood as they walked in dimness until, eventually, a hidden door opener, and thrust Telis all into blindness.

When his sight had finally adjusted, Telis looked out upon the blackstone arena, staring in silence at the enclosure and the roaring call of bloodlust from the stands. The stands were filled with those seeking a show, and in the center stood a woman, so powerful in the Dark Side of the Force that it felt like a miasmic cloud of dark energy. Telis rested his hand on the pommel of his newly-crafted sabers. When Kascalion raised his voice to announce that the woman was his wife, Telis almost furrowed his brow at the nature of the fight, his hands leaving his sides as he looked between Kascalion and Hel Kai’dent. He spoke not, though, simply having hope that no trickery was at play here - and if there was, he would make his own outcome of the fight. He took to Kascalion’s side, his eyes focusing on the pair left in the arena as he went to join Darth Abbadon in his private stands. All the while, Telis never took his eyes off of Hel or the other acolyte - fighting second meant that he had the opportunity to watch and see how the others fought.

Kascalion Giedfield

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

My beloved wife. The words had come out of him against his will, a forced facade that he grew increasingly tired of keeping. He could not understand why it was a facade, however, but he knew. He knew in his heart, his true heart and the heart of his proxy, that she was not who he wanted as his beloved. He wanted someone else, someone far away and long gone, someone whose face he could not remember, someone he knew that he had loved but could no longer make out in his memory.

The thought stuck with him as he looked upon the arena and the two standing within it. Would Hel find victory? He had no doubt she had the capability, but this acolyte had been the first to bypass the room. Perhaps he would prove himself again and be forced to fight Telis for the position as an apprentice. Kascalion leaned forward in his fur-draped chair, motioning for Telis to watch closely before loudly snapping his right thumb and index finger twice as a summoning. A pair of Draal servants immediately appeared from the arena's entrance, their furry feet stamping across the dark sand of the arena to bring the acolyte a sword that appeared to be made of Songsteel or some other shining metal. Without a lightsaber, the man was at a distinct disadvantage. The Devil Lion sought to even the odds and nodded to the man on the sands as he looked up to the viewing box for assurance.

When the man grabbed the hilt of the sword, he charged instantly, without hesitation, seeking to catch the woman off guard perhaps. The crowd fell silent in anticipation as sand spit upward into the sky as his feet slammed against it, a roar escaping his throat as he quickly caught up to the woman's position, swinging the sword in a heavy downward motion.

The woman, though surprised by the acolyte's suddenness, dodged the attack and swung both her blades for the man's exposed back. To her further surprise, the acolyte spun around just as quickly as she had dodged and brought the sword to bear in defense of the two sabers, showcasing unexpected physical strength by not only blocking the attack successfully but pushing Hel onto her heels.

The Nautolan backpedaled rapidly with the acolyte in pursuit, keeping the sword from sliding forward into her chest or abdomen. With a surge of power, she pushed forward and swung both sabers once again, one aimed for his leg and one for his neck. The acolyte could only block one and chose the saber aimed for his throat, grunting in pain as the second passed through his right thigh. The cut was deep enough to hobble him, but not enough to cripple, and left a slash smoldering in the moonlight.

The woman smiled to herself, now aware that he could or would only block the more fatal attacks if she struck fast enough. Quickly did she press upon him with rapid strikes, her purple blades finding their mark repeatedly as the hopeful acolyte was cut again and again until, finally, he fell to his back, unable to defend against the Nautolan's savagery. He could only utter a short gasp and scream before his neck was gashed open and he fell silent under the jeers and cheers of the crowd.

"Up you go, Telis," Kascalion muttered to the man next to him. "Let's see if those weapons you made serve you."

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Telis watched in muted fascination as the fight began, reclining in his seat at first and intently listening at the thrum of the crowd as it rose and fell, and with it the actions of the fighters. For a few moments, it seemed to be in the favor of the acolyte, and Telis debated on whether he would be able to fight against the sword-armed opponent. It would be an easy fight, mayhaps, but the wife that was Hel proved to be a cunning fighter, and perhaps the acolyte would be the greater challenge of the two. For a few moments Telis was vulnerable in his own thoughts as he couldn’t decide whether or not he would rather face Hel or the acolyte.

Eventually, though, the tide turned, and Telis watched the beginning of the end. As the Acolyte’s skill could not keep up with the ferocity of Hel’s strokes, only picking the more dangerous of the two each time when they were pressed on, not taking the retreat as he should’ve. Telis watched the man falter, stabbed on and on in the endless barrage of blows until he was eventually felled, his throat cut, and with it the sudden upset of the crowd around him. Telis’s breath escaped his lungs in a soundless sigh, as he watched the Nautolan’s savagery firsthand. He was not excited for the fight to come.

Sitting up and rising from his seat, Telis started the long walk down towards the arena floor, passing the cheering, jeering crowd as he went, feeling the energy of their cries and shouts wash over him and invigorate him. As he moved, he gently tugged at the shoulder of his robes, making sure that the robes he wore were still in good shape after everything that had happened. His golden eyes flickered from person to person, letting their cheering become a source of energy for them all. They came here to see a show.

Well, the least Telis could do was give it to them.

It was a single thought, and yet it made Telis feel immensely better about the fight to come, his feet reaching the sandy floor of the arena, and his hands moving down to grip the two chitinous hilts at his side, feeling the weight of them and gently spinning them in both his mechanical and nonmechanical hands. As he looked over at Hel, Telis simply took a deep breath, and allowed a smile to come onto his features, the investor melting away and replaced only with the monster that it hid. His teeth were bared like fangs and his golden eyes glinted, inviting Hel to take the first move.

Telis dug his heels into the floor, spinning the blades a second time and allowing them to extend into the cruel, red, eager blades his body hunched over and ready to move as he let the blades gently crest against the ground before him. The Nautolan in turn stared down the apprentice, no fear showing in her eyes as the new challenger awaited her. Without pause, Hel rushed forward towards the acolyte, bearing down on him with an attempt to cut through him as easily as she had cut through her previous opponent, her strokes as swift as the wind.

Telis, however, proved to be more armed and more readily clever than his opponent, even if he lacked refinement and strength. Bringing his sabers up, Telis deflected the blow upwards, leaving the Nautolan open for a swift kick to the abdomen that created a small patch of distance and kicked up the dirt from the arena floor. Telis charged forward at Hel as she had been opened up for attack, only to find his own cross-slash blows met with a swift recovery that sent a shock through his muscles as the blades clashed in a shower of sparks. All around the crowd jeered and cheered at the display, as Telis and Hel now were locked in the clash.

Hel was the first to react, though, bringing her left blade down and letting Telis’s hand swing large, opening up his own left arm for attack. The Nautolan moved her hand to strike at the Corsucanti’s robotic wrist, the blade piercing through the machinery and causing his hand to flex outwards, his lightsaber dropping to the ground and leaving Telis with only one weapon to fight with. He was pushed onto the defensive, desperation in his eyes as he now was forced into the same rhythm that the former acolyte had been pushed into, only Telis was able to use his inner power to block the blows, mixing swordplay with passion-fueled barriers to keep himself from spiraling downwards into devastation.

Hel came upon him like a wraith, the pair of them snarling as the Nautolan’s strikes were again and again parried, blocked, and deflected, though Telis’s energy was wearing thin, sweat creating his brow and his eyes flickering from gray to gold as he was pushed further and further to his limit. It was all cast down, though, when Hel brought her hand up, using the Force to throw Telis onto his back moments after her blows had been parried once again. Telis hit the ground with a heavy thud that stunned his senses and left him reeling, blinking away the mist in his eyes to see the crowd now cheering - a finishing execution, the last act of the show.

The Nautolan came closer, kicking away the hilt in Telis’s hand as he tried to raise it to defend himself, the weapon clattering over the floor of the arena, before she stood above him. Her arms were raised, primed for a single ending stroke aimed at the man’s throat. A lone cry from the stands, however, offered a single lapse in focus, a moment that Telis needed, for his own survival and his victory. With tear-strewn eyes, a desperate cry, and an outstretched hand, Telis found his previously lost lightsaber return to his broken, cybernetic hand, his right hand come up to grab the pommel off the hilt as he turned on the weapon and thrust it forward, straight into Hel’s abdomen, his expression a mixture of fury and desperation, and a fadingly human apology in his eyes - it was him or her, and he wouldn’t allow the advantage to poss him by.

Pulling his legs back, Telis planted them against Hel’s chest, kicking her back while raising his right hand to send her flying through a repulsive blast of the Force, his lightsaber turning off as he left Hel disarmed, stunned, and quickly fading. Telis himself was in no better shape, but with what strength he had left, the Coruscanti Sith rose to his feet, looking up towards Kascalion with a mixture of hardened steel and showman’s grace. In his eyes danced a single message, his eyes once again returning gold: is this the fight you wished for?

Kascalion Giedfield