Inferno

[Grace Darkson]

The forge was not a place that Lady Psyona was used to. Heat and fire and metal were far from the books and holorecordings. But there was something she desired before the rage of the fire. As she suffered before the blistering blaze, drenched in sweat, the Sith stared at the table before her. There was little there beyond the raw materials. Desh, Terenthium, a small chunk of Aurodium, silver wire, basins full of blood, and a pile of white gemstones. Gloved hands touched one, lifting it up to hold it before her eyes. Sanguine stripes like bloody wounds spiraled through the gem, and she smiled. This one would be the perfect for what she had in mind. A fleeting curiosity took hold, and for a brief moment, the Vahla pressed the gem against the skin of her neck.

A fire seemed to spread from the point of impact, incinerating the nerves and sending everything into shades of white. Thought fled the pain, causing the woman to convulse violently, jerking the stone off of her skin. As it left, she gasped, panting, trying to recover from the horrible sensation.

Yes, these would do nicely.

Picking up the Aurodium, she began to work on it. She only needed a little bit, after all. For what she was doing, she'd have enough left over to buy a small town.

 

[Grace Darkson]

Rings, jewelry, they were of a different from what was to come. This was a delicate craft, one of polish and perfection, and with less brute force needed than the forging of blades. This was something she could do all day. This was easy enough for her. Aurodium was shapable and could be hardened into whatever form she needed it. It was soft enough that there was no hammer, no wrathful pounding of the metal into submission. Much like most souls, she mused. They didn't resist the universe shaping them into something useful to it. Was the ring she made useful to the metal? Would being useful to her aid the metal at all? Some other craftsman could have imposed their will upon the golden metal, and probably made some fortune on its retail. But no. Here it was, only to serve her vanity, and it would not even try and resist her.


As she pressed the silver wire into recessed marks, weaving it into place, the question became: Why these metals? Why silver inlays? Why Aurodium? Was it to serve some selfish reason, to make her look like some high-strung noble? No, it was to look like something she could wear anywhere.It made sense for a woman her age to wear a gilded ring. And so it was guilded.

As she set the stone, all she could think was the uses for such a simple thing.

 

[Nassier Zirfae]

Nassier had no place in the forge. There wasn't armor she'd know to forge, no weapon she thought to make. After all, what weapons did she need when the Lylek so willingly provided as it was? Not to say, of course, that she'd deny a weapon if given to her. She just didn't think to seek a new weapon herself.

No, she was here, not for herself, but because Syn had wished it. That voice in her head, apparently as old as the Sith order itself. At first, Syn was disappointed her new host was not Sith. She had tried to corrupt the Caprine to her dark ways, too. Not to say the Sith wasn't still trying to bring Nassier away from the Lylek's shadow. For now, however, Syn seemed content enough to observe, develop an understanding of the new galaxy.

It was entirely Nassier's violation that brought her right up to Grace, curiosity pushing her to approach with a sort of familiarity that only Nassier would be capable of after so few interactions. "What are you making?" She drawled, taking in the subject with wide eyes.

[member="Lady Psyona"]​

 

[Grace Darkson]

The sheer heat pouring off of the Forge was something to be feared. But in her mind, as she lifted the metals and placed them in the furnace, she had a vision. An idea. Sith Swords were common, something so many had made before. No, she would need something better. She had heard of blades cutting through Terenterek hide and cloth as if it were butter. But she knew not how they had done it. The blade would need something else.

She knew of the ability to Force Imbune blades, but she didn't know the process. Maybe a creation somewhere between the two, that used the Force to increase cutting power? Maybe...

The voice startled her. No one else was supposed to be here. This was her time to work. She spun, surprise twisting on her face. "I'm trying to solve a problem. An answer to an advantage my student gained." She was vague, unwilling to give specifics. Whether it was because Nassier wouldn't understand, or if she didn't want to tell Syn more than was needed, was up for debate. She reached for the bowl of gems, reaching her hand above the bowl. "Herjta kia herjta, sunya kia sunya. Sunya j'us buti kaxai, ir sunya j'us sekleti buti darval. Herjta kia herjta, sunya kia sunya" The words came out as a mumble at first, the black tongue of the Sith spilling like oil from her lips. The stones began to crack and fall apart below her hand, shards falling and breaking again and again until it was reduced into a fine powder.

[member="Nassier Zirfae"]​

 

[Nassier Zirfae]

"What sort of problem?" Whether or not Nassier caught on to Grace trying to hide something from her, she gave no hint of it. She remained quiet, watching Grace's work, her eyes momentarily caught on the gems and the way they glittered. She had an eye for pretties, not the hands to swipe them, but the eyes and interest to observe. Syn seemed rather interested in the process, too, Nassier feeling the Sith's attention directed towards Grace's hand as it lingered over the gems.

A scoff heard only by the Lylek resounded in her head. Syn's attention retracted a fraction, her distaste evident. Nas, too, stopped paying attention if only to gauge what Syn was on about. There was a sort of purity about the Caprine, one such that could harbor such a dark entity and not yet be tainted. One that could wield shadows and deception without a second thought.

"You need to correct your pronunciation." She said with a tilt of the head. "'Tis sloppy in the beginning, apparently. Other places are a bit off, too."

[member="Lady Psyona"]​

 

[Grace Darkson]

There was a blank look on Psyona's face at the Caprine's comment on her pronunciation. "How do you..." As soon as the words left her mouth, she remembered, yellowed eyes locking on the amulet clamped to the woman's neck. "Oh. Right." Her hand moved away from the bowl, and she lifted it up to stare into the dust. Nicely powdered, perfect for what she needed. "Well, in my defense, the language hasn't been in use for almost two thousand years. I had to learn it from books and scrolls." Setting the bowl down, she turned back to the forge itself. The crucible was ready. Two parts Desh, one part Terenthium, and the dusted gems all went in before the foundry was sealed.

"So what's it like?" She asked the woman, a lingering curiosity in her voice. "Having Sorzus Syn in your head?" There was some part of her that was jealous. The Lylek Shaman wasn't part of the Sith's legacy, why was she lucky enough to receive the talisman? Was Grace not strong enough? Was she not powerful enough for the Exile? Or had the Caprine been lucky?

[member="Nassier Zirfae"]​

 

[Nassier Zirfae]

"Hey, I'm not judging it," Nassier said, raising her hands in defense. "Syn is." The last bit, a touch quieter than the rest was pushed forward as Nas moved on. There was a collection of other pieces surrounding them, half-finished projects, some of which looked nearly finished while others looked as if they'd barely begun. She picked up the makings of a sword, observing it with keen yet vacant eye. It was as if Syn's practiced hand had melded with Nassier's innate curiosity.

"It's different, yes, that I'll give you." She admitted it freely, with no hint of reservation. It was a matter of fact, something she was getting used to. Syn's presence wasn't something utterly dreadful, not after the initial bonding. "She tells me to do stuff, like come down here." She shrugged, unbothered by the fact. "Some of it's weird, like finding some item, I can't imagine why, though."

[member="Lady Psyona"]​

 

[Grace Darkson]

Psyona had time before the crucible finished its work. She smiled, albeit coldly, at the other woman. "Of course. It's not like I can hear her, though. Even if I want to." The twinge of jealousy in her voice was masked poorly, and the Vahla watched the other woman simply pick up a sword blank, no doubt studying it. She could feel... something from the being inside as if they were working on the blade themselves.

"I can't imagine it's all that enjoyable." She spoke with a calm tone, almost like the pair were close friends catching up. Golden eyes studied the blade the Caprine held. It was changing, shifting as the woman talked. "I've had my share of dealings with Sith Spirits, and I can't imagine having one in your head constantly would be fun." It wasn't wrong, although some days she thought the voice of her Totem was similar enough. "If I can give you some advice?"

A long, deep breath followed that question, and the woman's hollow, gold-stained eyes looked directly into Nassier's. "Don't trust her. She's ancient, manipulative, and more intelligent than almost everything else in the galaxy." Part of her wondered if Syn would simply convince the Caprine otherwise. "I may not know what she has planned, but I can say it isn't for your good. Or for the good of anyone but herself."

[member="Nassier Zirfae"]​

 

[Nassier Zirfae]

"Well, I can always tell you when she has something to say." She was delighted at the prospect of being helpful, truly. She could hear a twinge of...something in Grace's voice. Something she couldn't quite place yet couldn't help but wonder if it was something she had done. Still, she paid Grace's words no mind, vacantly staring at the sword until she blinked and it was suddenly a very different item.

Putting the blade down, she offered a shrug as she turned back to Grace. "You get used to it after so long, I suppose." She replied. "Syn's not so bad. She's really smart and sometimes it's way too much to take in, but other than that, she's great."

"I don't doubt that." The solemn yet expressive nod was uncharacteristically serious, her horns bobbing up and down with her head. Syn didn't bother to deny the claims, either. The ancient Sith had made it very clear from the beginning that Nassier would serve her, not the other way around. Already she'd tried several times over to convince the Lylek to submit willingly, to grant her full access to the vessel. She'd offered the girl power, a throne, influence spanning far beyond her patron's reach, all for the teensy price of Nassier's body. "But I'm sure we can work out something that'll benefit us both. She's really not that bad."

[member="Lady Psyona"]​

 

[Grace Darkson]

"She created a process to twist the natural order to create monsters, weapons of destruction, and artifacts of immense power." She motioned to the Caprine's neck. "Case in point." Slowly, she stood, her eyes glancing at the blade Syn had made. It was beautiful, swirls of black tendrils running through the core. She had skipped the... gruesome step that most weapons required. A step she in no small part dreaded. "She knows more about the Force's inner workings than any mortal before or since. She helped turn a tribal species into some of the galaxy's most brutal conquerors." There was a tone of admiration in her voice, but a measured one.

"Understand that the Exiles were some of the most twisted people the galaxy has ever known. And Sorzus Syn was more twisted than any of them." She knew she shouldn't harp on one point for too long, but she worried what would happen if Nassier lost control to the Exile. What Syn had planned. "If I were you, I wouldn't find whatever artifact she wants. It'll no doubt end poorly for you." Cold eyes glanced at the foot of the crucible. It was ready. She turned without another word, and knocked down the crucible's top, carefully removing the clay jar within. She had her metal. Now came the hard part. Hammers and Force Power and grinding.

This would be fun.

[member="Nassier Zirfae"]​

 

[Nassier Zirfae]

"And she has good style, yes yes." Part of what made Nassier so inclined to take the talisman on her person was its aesthetic, though that was far overshadowed by the voice that she'd later know as Syn compelling her to find it. Either way, it worked out thus far. "So then she'll be perfect for the Lylek to learn from." Nassier would be a fool not to recognize the more tribal connotation that came with her pact. She didn't exactly do much to discourage it, nor did she bother to deny it when it was brought up. It wasn't the Lylek in its entirety, no, but it was what she was the aspects that she grew up in. To deny that would be to deny where she came from.

Syn was oddly quiet throughout Grace's warning, almost as if she held her tongue to save it for just the right moment. Nassier could feel her presence weighing down on her mind. She could feel Syn stir at mention of the artifact the Exile had wanted, could hear the whispers of Syn's voice almost too gently reminding her who her Syn was and what all she had to offer, if only Nassier abided by her simple wishes.

[member="Lady Psyona"]​

 

[Grace Darkson]

The effort this next part would take required most of the woman's focus, so as the blade took shape, the Vahla was quiet. When it was finally drawn to a length fitting for a blade, she sighed, setting the bar of pointed metal down and panting. "So..." Her breaths were short, heavy. She needed to catch it. "Sorzus Syn... She... wants something..." The woman forced herself to get up, to walk to the far corner, grabbing a water bottle resting there. It was warm, far from the ice cold drink she wanted, but it was wet. She needed that now. Taking a long drink, she sighed. "Any idea what it is?"

Slowly, she began to set up the next step. Svolten rhyolite grindstones were mounted, and the woman began the work on shaping the blade to form. "Or do you know where it is?" She seemed almost dispassionate, her tone empty as if she barely cared. "She's not to be taken lightly. Learn what you can from her, but don't let her take control." The grindstone was done. There was little left to do. Tapping he commlink on, she gave a simple request. "Bring in the prisoner. " She knew the man, even as they drug him in, chained and terrified. What did they want with him?

Without saying another word, Lady Psyona plunged the still-glowing sword into the man.

[member="Nassier Zirfae"]​

 

[Nassier Zirfae]

Wide eyes following Lady Psyona as she left the work to rest, she decided to commit Syn's comment on her work. She pulled up a seat, opting to perch upon it more than sit, one knee pulled up to her chest, her chin resting upon it. "I don't know, really," Nassier admitted said with the ghost of a sigh. "She says something about it being the secret to power, real power. I don't really get it, especially since the Lylek's powerful enough as it is." She sounded hardly concerned. "I guess we'll find out later."

"You know," Nassier started, scooter her seat to get a better look at Grace's work. "If I let her, you know, for a little, she could probably help you with whatever this is." The idea had been a vague thought originating from the back of the Caprine's mind. Syn was quick to encourage it, pushing Nas to even vocalize it. She sat up straighter, a look of confusion etched upon her features when the prisoner was dragged in. She hadn't expected guests, granted, she was a guest here herself. A surprised squeak of sorts escaped her as the sword used the man as a hilt. That was...unexpected, and altogether quite unnecessary. She started forward in reaction, stopped only by Syn's laughter.

"What was that for?"

[member="Lady Psyona"]​

 

[Grace Darkson]

"No."​

There was a finality to the word, a steel wall trying to block any semblance of counterargument. "I don't doubt that she could do this in a heartbeat, and make it better than I'm able to." For a moment, she seemed tempted. A weapon forged by Syn herself. What she would give to have one of those. "But letting her have control, even for a moment, is dangerous." Golden eyes stared at the Caprine, never blinking. "Whatever she wants, it's not for the Lylek, or the Mandragora" Her gaze glanced to the prisoner, Her free hand balling into a fist, slamming the blade through the prisoner. "It's for herself."

"A Sith Sword is enhanced by submerging it in a trough of 'blood spilled in anger.'" Her voice stayed even as she withdrew the cooling blade, her eyes studying it. "I'll have to clean the floor, but I figure it'll be less work than the alternative. Turning, she set the blade down, carefully, the stygian metal much different in appearance than it had been. "Any object touched with alchemical science will become Force-Sensitive itself, forever retaining a minor imprint of the forger." Grabbing a piece of ivory, and a few lumps of metal, and turned to the lathe. "Her words, not mine."

[member="Nassier Zirfae"]​

 

[Nassier Zirfae]

"Yeah, she agrees." She needn't find that sword from before to prove Syn's superiority. The Exile had spent countless waking hours in these very processes, albeit in their more dated forms. There was hardly a weapon she could not alter, not an item outside of her reach. Watching the process now, Syn was all too keen to point out little mistakes, small differences in the times. She spared most of the details, however, being well aware of how little her host actually knew of the subject matter. It was best she didn't know much, all the better for Syn to take advantage of later.

Brow furrowed as she listened to Grace's explanation, Nassier was far from happy with it. It made sense, she supposed. Still, the thought of what had just transpired cast a shiver down her spine. At least, that's how it started out. When the shiver stopped, it was like she was a different person. Her posture, once bent over in curiosity, was now straight and tall. The light in her eyes had darkened, taking on a more menacing light. "Oh, I'm well aware whose words those are." It was Nassier's voice but far from her words. She stood, crossing over to Grace. In a few short steps, she'd established herself as 10 times more collected than Nassier had been the entire conversation. This wasn't the Caprine. "I can also recognize when someone stands to get in my way. For your sake, child, see that you don't." With that, the being turned their back on Grace, taking their leave.

[member="Lady Psyona"]​

 

[Grace Darkson]

That... wasn't the Caprine. She may not know the Exile, have never talked to her, but that couldn't be anyone else. Besides, the posture, the confidence, that wasn't Nassier. There wasn't the natural curiosity and innocence she had come to know. No, this was darker. "Sorzus Syn. A pleasure." There was an excitement in her voice. "What did it take to gain control?" The Vahla was little more than glancing to the woman. "I'd imagine the true leader of the Jen'jidai would have an easy time overpowering the Caprine. Why only come out now?" She smiled, looking up from her work. "Did you really see me as enough of a threat to your plans that you needed to tell me off?"

She began the final fitting, pinning the blade to the handle before her pale hands ran down the length. "I don't think I could stop you in a fight. You have millennia of experience on me, and if your fellow Muur's skills were any indication, I'd need help even with you in her body." The words were measured. She knew how dangerous this was. "But I also understand that Sith Spirits, amulets, and the like are as dangerous as they are powerful. Believe me, I've explored almost every corner of Sith lore and power I can find." The woman smiled. "So sorry if I don't want you to complete your goal, as I'm not in a place to benefit from it." With that, she hefted the finished blade, staring at the ebony weapon.

"But that's beside the point. I will do what will benefit me. Jen'jidai Lords, Sith Spirits, and the laws of nature be damned."

[member="Nassier Zirfae"]​