The Dead God
OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION
- Intent: A personal weapon for The Slave.
- Image Source: Here.
- Canon Link: N/A
- Restricted Missions: N/A
- Primary Source: Sith Sword
- Manufacturer: The Slave
- Model: Ishtar, The Song
- Affiliation:
The Slave │ Whoever Acquires It| [member="Saphir Steele"] - Modularity: No
- Production: Unique
- Material: Alchemized Phrik │ Echani Graphite Tubes │ Cortosis Micro Plates │ Electrum Plating │ Terentatek Leather │ Corusca Gem │ Svolten Rhyolite Treated Edge │ The Slave's Blood
- Classification: Sith Sword
- Size: Two-Handed │ One-Handed
- Length: 1.5m
- Weight: 6.9kg
- Lightsaber Resistant
- Can Absorb/Repurpose Force Lightning
- Drips Potent Hallucinogen
- Magnifies Dark Side Powers
- Can Be Tracked
- Never Dulls
- Creates A Song When Wielded
DETAILED SPECIAL FEATURES
(Describe in detail the special features of the technology item. )
Strengths:
- Can't Beat A Classic -
Due to its phrik construction, and Force Imbuement, the blade known as Ishtar is able to completely shrug off a lighstaber's blade with little to no damage to itself. This ability holds true to the like of blaster fire, and more; effectively making the blade as useful in combat as its successor lightsabers. - High Voltage! -
As all sith alchemized blades, force lightning finds itself not only attracted to the golden layers of this magnificent weapon; but absorbed into her folds as well. With this energy held in like that of a high grade capacitor, the moment the blade meets another physical object it will discharge the entirety of the current she has built up in devastating fashion. - Lucy In The Sky With Death -
The most totalitarian use of the blade in combat is its exceptionally potent toxin that leaks off its surface. This toxin is one that is harmless to the body, even leaving quickly should one injest it; but an extremely efficacious response occurs should it be leaked into the bloodstream. Only a moments contact can release enough of the poison to toy with one's understanding of reality in the most abhorrent of ways. Momentary insanity, nearly complete cognitive dissociation, to the extreme of some hearing the voice of a god while under the influence. Easily the most potent feature of the sword. - Blood Barong -
Infused with the blood of her creator, Ishtar has a unique presence in the force that allows that sense the piece of him that lies with it; to always track the blade. This is especially strong in relation to The Slave himself, but is not unique to him alone. - Here Be a Nexus -
When wielded, the user of the blade finds the weapon as a literal meniscus in the force; one that turns them into a walking nexus of dark and potent energies. All powers that rely on the abysmal plane of the force that Jedi less tread are amplified whole heartedly; forming one of the most brutal and painful lessons one could ever learn from facing down its user. - A Song For The Ages -
When wielded, the blade gives off a somber and horrid tone that is in itself entirely based on the user and how they use it. For the reckless, a quick and upbeat musical; but for the brooding and careful a slow and foreboding bassy cacaphony. In this, amidst combat a sudden symphony of blood and screams can lead to the breaking of troops in only a moments notice, each plagued with the nightmare of their brother falling to its eldritch noise.
- Barbell, Or Sword? -
The blade is extremely heavy, almost unbearably so to most traditional fighters. Although Phrik helps to lighten the load exceptionally, the blade still finds itself an agonizing 6.9kg; something any conventional melee combatant would throw sooner than duel with. - Chop! -
Most notably, those who utilize the blade notice its weight, length, and shape all attribute to something more of a wide arcing blade than a duelists careful strike weapon. It lacks all the finesse and precision of her lighter counterparts, taking the hefty route in full confidence. - Say No To Drugs -
Those who wear armor find that the blade's potent hallucinogen effect is entirely negated since it can not find its way into the bloodstream. A shame really, considering how much fun it'd be if they took it off. - Ethnocide -
As it would be, as the blade is swung about and wielded like a bat out of hell; the user finds themselves unable to hide. The sweet lullabies their blade sings to the masses becomes an ever calling beacon to where they are, what they are doing, and where they will be going if they don't stop. - On The Trail -
The tracking of the blade can work in reverse as well, meaning those who wield it can match its force signature with The Slave himself and find him. The two way window to a meetup meant to be, it would seem.
Ishtar, The Song.
A name that today is simply told over campfires, or a flickering holotable on a long journey through the hyperlanes. Traders, warriors, even prisoners whisper of its magnificent splendor. Some say she is a blade cast in pure Aurodium, others something forged in blood spilled through anger. A ghostly vision of blade that pulled forth from the abyss death incarnate, with it a somber and careless swan song that signalled their soon to be departure from the world. She was nothing short of a demon sent from the Netherworld herself to drag men and women alike to their unfortunate graves, and so she had apparently done on unknown numerous occasions. The rampant idea that the blade was a living being all its own even grew in the minds of those with an imagination, and even more stories came from the annals of space in time. All of which are wrong however, as the blade known as Ishtar is something far darker, more malevolent, and ghastly than any of the wives tales these many journeymen could have told.
Forged over weeks of a drugged induced hysteria, the blade found its genesis in the forges of The Slave’s hands. Meticulously crafted and cared for from the moment of conception in his mind to the final product before him, every detail a mirror of who he was; while ever faint error something he avoided in his gaze just as he did himself. To him, she was perfect, and that was all she needed to be.
Although the majority of the blade was Phrik, an already nye indestructible material, the blade had extreme thought put into its various other elements. From the golden coating she held to a mirror finish, to the precisely wrapped handle, to even the immensely valuable corusca gem held in her pommel. The blade was nothing short of a work of art, something any king, nigh emperor, would hold dear on his mantle. It was beauty incarnate at a glance, but something far worse in actuality.
With a handle wrapped in the treated and black stained hide of a terentatek beast, the blade already emanated an aura of dark side pressure that could nearly strangle a man should he wander to close. Although not literal, these abysmal wrappings found a faint aesthetic around the phrik and echani graphite tubing that lay beneath, forming a solid and positive counterweight for the blade that allowed it to be used effectively in combat. The gem on its hilt was used for decoration more than anything, a prize The Slave managed to get off a smitten duchess in the Outer Rim.
The blade however was where Ishtar came alive, her very essence laid deep in the grooves and carvings that riddled the long and potent blade. With purified cortosis microplates layered in a geometric pattern along her broadside, she was able to disable lightsabers at a glance, but always kept the brittle metal far from her fighting edge; something coated in Svolten Rhyolite to forever hold its ferocity. Layered carefully between all of this, electrum that gave her a wild golden shimmer; something that drew the eyes of men and women alike for the sheer magnificence that it was to be in her presence.
It was a blade the likes of which had never graced mortal eyes before, but in this it perhaps it found its strongest strength. Between a mixture of blood sacrifices and rituals whose knowledge was imparted onto The Slave by the Dathomir Witches of the Primeval, and a long line of Alchemized Sith Magic taught unto him by Bestia through her Holocron; there was an omnipotent presence forged within the blade that gave it the most gruelling and powerful of its many attributes.
A sickness ran from its nonexistent pores, leaking not only the heretical energies of the dark side of the force, but to a toxin that was entirely foreign to reality. A mere glance of the blade to even the tip of a finger, and it’d surge to the mind and fill it with horrors unending. From reliving past memories, witnesses loved ones before you, to even the more mundane multiple opponents; the potency of the toxin’s ability to flabbergast an opponent was never in question. It was by far one of the most cruel and abhorrent ways for someone to ever experience it's touch, and often a sure sign of death for those that met its soft whispers.
Yet, as soft whispers riddled the blood that she touched; a loud cacophony of music laid waste to the ears of those around her. She was a blade forged from the blood of a hedonist, and in this she personified him in tooth and soul. As each swing was made, she uttered a soft and melodic nature; some mistake perhaps for the surge of wind around them. Yet, the more force sensitive understood, what the blade did was far more disturbing. It created a song out of its user’s energy, something so foreign to the ears that it utilized the force itself to manipulate air. A unique song for a unique wielder, something that served as such a stranger to those around it that it simply inspired fear if nothing else. Horrible, unending fear.
There is little else to say about the blade known as Ishtar, only that should one ever hear the eldritch and somber tones of a fair maiden in the distance; that minding where you stand should be at the highest of your concerns. Her wielder seeks blood, to feed the savage Ishtar. She requires blood, and it is the blood of those that hear her songs that she seeks most of all.
