Embrace the Dark

[Kára Morrigan]

Panatha; Pancath Sector; Outer Territories

Kára Morrigan looked upon her home planet and smiled a terrible smile. Her master was here; she could feel him, his great, dark power, swirling about the planet, permeating its air. It had been too long since she basked in his presence. Far too long.

Six years, her thoughts supplied, for all that it had felt like an eternity. Her trials upon the Dread Lord's worldship had only strengthened her hatred, her rage, and every day of those six years she had yearned to return to him, to claim her place at his side.

She reached out into the dark, and heard sweet, sibilant whispers. Master she called out. I have returned to you.

She landed her ship just outside the capital city, and made her way through crowded streets to the great palace where her master dwelled. Lithe and lissome, clad in Voxyn skins, lightwhip coiled at her hip, she cut a beautiful, if intimidating figure. Her eyes burned a sickly yellow. Her hair, a pale shade of pink, fell to the small of her back.

She walked with purpose, boot heels clacking against the ground. If she were any less dignified she'd have been running to him. The throngs of people meandering through the streets seemed to part for her, as if they knew her purpose, as if they could feel her triumph at finally rejoining her master.

Her nerves were on fire. For all that she hated, deeply and fiercely, she had loved Lord Kaine. Still did. His power was intoxicating. It swarmed her, as wolves might swarm a prey, sinking into her bones, gnawing at her black soul. She could think of nothing sweeter. What pain would he inflict upon her for being away for so long? How would he punish her?

Anticipation and desire quickened her pace. She could not wait to witness his rage, to feel it coursing through her.

Head held high, she entered the palace.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

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Canthar​

Capital City of Panatha​

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The city was a roar of activity, the shouting of the bazaar traders as they laid bare their goods for all to gaze upon, the children running atop the stuttered rooftops before collapsing in the glow of the mid-morning sun, and the rhythmic marching of the soldiers as they patrolled the streets, their gaze piercing and cold. The low hum of starships buzzing about overhead drowned out all of the sound, however; but the citizens below hardly payed any attention to the coming and goings of the ships, their minds firmly set on their current tasks and other matters. Despite the city having a well-traversed spaceport, it had an even larger harbor where aquatic vessels would frequently sail in and out of, taking goods brought in from the trade hub near the spaceport and carrying them across vast expanses of cerulean ocean to similar harbors in smaller towns all across the world, where they would be distributed to the rest of the Epicanthix people. Perhaps this method was a tad archaic, but the Epicanthix didn't care if it was or not, they enjoyed the more traditional methods of transportation on their own world.

However; the looming presence of black-armored warships anchored in the harbor was a firm reminder that even on the oceans they were not exempt from the permeating control of their Emperor, who was rumored to have defeated death itself. When the citizens heard of the destruction of the Emperor's massive citadel in the northern mountains some let loose a sigh of relief while others mourned the loss of a great and powerful warrior-king, but when the Emperor revealed himself once more after allegedly dying to means unknown and then coming back from the cold confines of death even stronger than before, all rejoiced and celebrated. Now the Emperor had taken up residence in the administrative palace at the center of the city, and the presence of his soldiers had never been so suffocating than it was now. You couldn't walk five feet without having to look at the sight of marching Blackblades or roaming cabalists whispering dark nonsense through their cracked lips, their faces concealed by dark hoods.

Still, the people went on with their lives as if nothing had changed, and they did not care how dark or vile their Lord was so long as he respected their traditions. They hardly blinked an eye whenever a transgressor, whatever the severity of his or her crime, was publicly executed through brutal means in any of the many squares that littered the city. In fact many Epicanthix were swept up in the festival atmosphere that heralded an execution, and often times people would manage to snatch small trinkets or tokens from the corpses of those executed, and the guards never reprimanded anyone who did. Even now on the steps leading up to the palace were four men impaled on thick wooden spikes, murderers or something, who had been sentenced to die a day or two ago, yet only one of them remained alive in perpetual suffering as the stake continued to wind up through his insides with every passing minute. The only thing that kept him from screaming out was a thick rag shoved deep down into his mouth and throat, which dripped with blood every now and then.

When [member="Kára Morrigan"] entered the Imperial Palace, all of the guard's heads turned her way, and the pair at the front quickly moved to intercept her and crossed both of their weapons in front of her to create an X to bar her path. "Halt! By the order of the Emperor you are to be detained until-" The guard cocked his head, as if listened to something that whispered through the ethereal ether to make it's will known, and slowly the two guards pulled their weapons away and stood aside for the pink-haired woman to pass. "The Emperor wills that you meet him in the throne room, just past those two doors ahead." They then turned and returned to their posts, now standing as silent and stoic as statues while the doors to the throne room awaited her touch, and once they began to open the full grandiose of the chamber became known to her.

Rows of pillars jutted up from the black marble floor to kiss the ceiling, while braziers burned brightly with a pale emerald light, and jars filled with black incense that smelled of rotting flesh belched thick smoke from their ornate urns to bathe the floor in a thick shroud. The throne, made of black jagged iron, was elevated in the center of the room on a platform bordered by three steps. Upon the throne sat the Emperor of the Epicanthix, the Dark Lord of the Dead, and the master of Morrigan's soul. He had changed much since she last laid eyes upon him, although his tremendous height and build was still the same, but his face was far more youthful although marred by three distinct scars across his cheeks and chin. His hair was still growing out, although it was significantly shorter than when she knew him. His eyes, however; were very distinct. A burning emerald rimmed with hatred that stared deep into Morrigan's soul, as if she had no defense against his haunting gaze.

The Sith Lord smiled and raised a single hand in welcome; "Welcome, Kára Morrigan. Welcome to my Kingdom of Darkness."

 

[Kára Morrigan]

The city was perfection given form and shape, a representation of its Emperor. Kára's master had turned Caranth into a paradise. She had tasted sweet suffering as she climbed the steps of the Imperial Palace, watching the men who had been impaled on spikes that ran alongside the steps. Only one yet lived, and his agony was exquisite. Her master was everywhere and in everything. It was enough to drive her mad with longing.

She pushed through the palace doors into a grand foyer, opulent and dark. She caught a glimpse of tall, imposing doors of a dark, smoky wood, before halberds crossed in front of her. A pair of guards swarmed her, all clad in black. She felt eyes on her, watching, assessing. There were more guards around the room, spaced around the walls, as silent as death.

"Halt!" one of them exclaimed. Kára felt the urge to smash his face to bits. " By order of the Emperor you are to be detained until --" Her smile twisted into a snarl. She was so close... and these fools were in her way --

"The Emporer wills that you meet him in the Throne room, just passed those two doors there." He gestured to the doors across from her, then the both of them returned to their post.

Kára's urges left her, settling down to a steady simmer. She took a breath, and pushed the doors open.

Her boots clacked against black marble. Emerald light splashed across the walls, and a thick coating of black smoke hugged the floor. The cloying scent of rotting flesh wafted up her nose. Columns stretched forward on either side of her, reaching back to frame a throne of jagged black iron. And upon that throne...

"Master," she gasped, breathless.

He looked different. Younger. Scarred. The closer she walked, the more differences she saw. His hair was shorter too. And his eyes...they were emerald knives that cut deep into her soul. But it was him. She could feel it.

He smiled, and her knees buckled. "Welcome, Kára Morrigan," he said, voice a deep, steady rumble like a bossed bronze gong. "Welcome to my Kingdom of Darkness."

She fell to her knees before him, pressing her head to the floor as one might worship at an altar. "My lord," she began, voice pregnant with emotion. "I have returned." She glanced up at him, and still on her knees, started to climb the steps of the días up to the throne. She felt lightheaded, and her heart was pounding. "Forgive my absence, Master. I was...unable to reach you. Cut off from the Force..." Her eyes sought his. "Am I still welcome, Master? Am I still yours?"

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pgdJp5DRQ90[/youtube]​

He rose from his black iron throne, black robes billowing forth under banded black armor decorated with inscriptions of evil in the ancient Sith language, and stood above the woman who prostrated herself before his magnificence. His smile was wicked and artificial, his emotions fraudulent, and slowly he raised a single hand before laying it on the top of Kára's pink-haired head in a calming gesture. Yet, as he did so too did the confines of his sleeve bulge and writhe before the head of a massive serpent emerged from the darkness, slithering out from beneath his robes and wriggle and coil itself around her body, it's powerful muscles constricting against her clothes and flesh in a way that felt unnatural. Still, throughout it all the man's false smile did not waver, but took on a new sinister aspect as he revealed his teeth in a wide rictus grin, the grin of a murderer.

"Oh, sweetest Kára, dearest Kára... You never stopped being mine. Your body, your mind, and your soul are all in my dominion. Though the infinite wastes of the void distanced us for so long, my claimant upon your existence never wavered. But, are you still worthy of me?"

The serpent tightened it's grip, threatening to suffocate her in it's grip, yet after a moment or two the serpent finally relinquished it's hold upon her and slithered back to the safety of it's master's robe. He stood, and walked down the steps past Kára until he reached the bottom, and then turned to gaze upon her with his haunting emerald eyes. "We shall see." He turned and moved to walk past the rows upon rows of columns, deeper into the far reaches of the throne chamber. Kára was willed to follow, although it was an unspoken command, but a command nonetheless and she dared not disobey him.

Less she face annihilation.

[member="Kára Morrigan"]

 

[Kára Morrigan]

Her lord Kaine rose from his throne with unnatural grace. He smiled down at Kara and her heart stopped. She daren't so much as move. Vile creature though she was, twisted and sick and utterly deplorable, her loyalty to Kaine, her love for him, for his power, was real. As real as her hatred or her rage, and just as constant. Her soul was black, her heart even blacker, but they were his, and they would always be his, to death and beyond.

Her master placed a hand upon her head and she leaned into his touch as a dog might, utterly subservient. An impossibly large snake slithered from out the depths of his robes, coiling around her as if she were prey. She felt smooth coils against her skin, like velvet. What a beautiful creature, she thought. Dangerous. She turned her eyes up to look upon her master. His smile had changed, sharpened, lips pulled back from his teeth in a caricature of a smile.

When he spoke, she hung on his every word as if they were ropes and she was suspended above an abyss. I’m yours, she thought. Always yours, forever yours. She opened her mouth to say, “I am still worthy, I swear it,” but then the snake tightened about her, and her words were trapped in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. She felt as if she was about to be snapped in half.

For the briefest moment she though, Am I going to die?

And then the pressure let up, and the snake returned to the shifting shadows of her master’s robes. He stepped past her and descended the steps. She turned with him, as if magnetically pulled, still upon her knees. He looked back, eyes burning through her like white hot fire.

“We shall see,” he said. He turned back and continued walking.

She wouldn’t disappoint him. She swore it, then and there, to herself and to the dark side, its sibilant whispers sliding into her ears to tickle her thoughts. He didn’t say that she should follow him, but the silent order was understood. She climbed to her feet and hurried after him, steps light, slowing as she came upon his right shoulder.

And so they went.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Past the throne room was a series of interlocking chambers that acted as the offices for the various administrative bodies for the Empire that Kaine ruled with an iron fist, although while he held full control over every aspect of the realm, he left the mundane acts of running the kingdom to his vast staff of governors and generals whom were devoted to him utterly. The Epicanthix were bound by the legacy of their forefathers and ruled by ancient tradition, a tradition so dominated by war and violence that even to this day their society was mired in rule by the strong and the demonization of the weak. For generations the rulers of the Epicanthix were proven warriors, their might towering above all else lest their reign be cut short by a more powerful usurper, and Kaine proved his right to rule by destroying the previous King, and casting down any who challenged his right.

Although the central opposition to his rule had been snuffed out long ago, there were always newcomers seeking to subvert his rule with their own weak short-sighted agendas of glory. Especially in the aftermath of his death and rebirth he had faced numerous challenges, and all had been laid low before his fury. Their names and memories stricken from all creation by the ferocious wrath that Kaine possessed in the furnace of his heart, and his rule tightened around the people he ruled. But for all the legions that roam the land far and wide the people paid no mind as if their world had not changed in the slightest, and for that they made their Lord proud.

But now the Emperor and his wayward apprentice reached their destination, a dungeon setting deep below the temple that had once served as a place of worship in ancient times that was now twisted and warped through the Sith Lord's will into a place of horrid experiments. The walls muffled the sounds from other chambers adjacent to this one, but even still the wails and sobs of the tormented could be heard if one hearkened long and hard enough. A single stone slab carved with archaic runes dominated the center of the chamber, manacles dangling from thick iron chains at each corner to sway back and forth softly. All around the walls of the room were tables, shelves, and carts carrying instruments of surgical and torturous origins hidden underneath soft fabric. The Sith Lord pointed to the slab, "You wish to be mine again? Then forfeit your flesh to my will, and lay your bare body upon the slab."

[member="Kára Morrigan"]

 

[Kára Morrigan]

Kara followed at [member="Darth Vornskr"]'s shoulder through an array of offices with various sorts of people occupying their desks and chairs. She could taste their fear of him. Dread hung in the air like a fine scent, wafting as if on a breeze. He owned them, completely, controlled them through sheer domination. She could feel it, sense it.

Further and deeper she went, silent, observant, and above all, subservient. This was very much her lords domain. His malice lived in the very walls. She was his instrument in all things, and thus, while the lessers felt fear in the face of his black power, Kara felt delight. Delight and awe. Darkness whispered at her ears, hissing. Black urges swelled in her heart, hatred of their weakness, their fear, a desire to murder them and everything they ever loved. Dark urges, swam up from the depths of her black soul.

Her dark thoughts were surmounted by awe as she came upon the dungeons. The thick walls blocked most of the sound, but there was a sweet melody of torment ringing in the air, like the lingering note to the end of a great symphony. The doors into the torture chambers that lined the wall blocked her sight, so she had to imagine what vile thing was happening inside each one.

We came upon a chamber with a massive stone slab in the middle. A torture stone, as it were, for the manacles dangling from its shoulders, the dark ichor staining its face. Various intsruments and potions dominated every surface, be it table or shelf. Different sorts of knives; short thin ones, curved ones, jagged ones, razored ones. Hammers, of a sort, and jars of such concoctions that seemed as if to stare back at her when she looked on them.

"You wish to be mine again? Then forfeit your flesh to my will, and lay your bare body upon the slab."

She didn't hesitate. She stripped out of her skins and boots, unwrapped the thick leather about her stomach. As if she were climbing into bed, she sat atop the slab and lay her back against the stone.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The chains that hung so loosely now sprang into action with unnatural life, the shackles opening and closing like the maw of a hungering beast before firmly clasping around her wrist and ankles, and then pulling tight to stretch her bare form across the full expanse of the slab. With a short wave of his hand the tray of tools scooted on it's wheeled legs to butt up against the slab, and in a few short steps the Sith Lord loomed over the table and the slab, his shadow blanketing both with it's terrible intensity. He reached out a hand, his fingers gnarled and blackened like volcanic stone, and caressed a singular triangular dirk that laid ever so serenely upon the steel-gray backdrop of the metal table and whose blade was thin yet unbelievably sharp. Slowly he moved from that one to the next, a dagger with a single bladed edge that was perpetually caked with dried maroon blood, and then to a curved hook with a serrated end.

His hand fell back onto the dagger, and he gripped the hilt softly as if handling a delicate artifact whose form could be shattered if too much pressure was applied. He held the tool in front of Kára's face, letting her absorb its every detail and the grotesque sharpness of the edge before letting it dig into the soft flesh of her forehead, blood welling up right from contact as Kaine carved an intricate symbol of a snarling canine right into her head.

"The symbol of the Vornskr, bold, sturdy, fearless and cruel. Ruthless beyond all measure."

He turned his attention to the rest of her body, his mouth forming into a thin smile as his eyes eagerly shone with pure hate. "Let us begin."

[member="Kára Morrigan"]