Let the Past Die

[Progflaw99]

( Source: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Wra8Q ) ​

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- No progress without sacrifice, no pleasure absent pain -​

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~​

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Fear. Anger. Hate. All powerful emotions, each with their unique advantages and disadvantages. Perhaps the greatest emotion however, that of love. An emotion of complexity, one which brought its subject to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows - an emotion known to drive people mad. Was he mad? Had he lost his mind in the process of his survival? Perhaps to a degree. Would the Supreme Leader ever admit to such? Unlikely. It wasn't madness that drove him, it wasn't even anger or revenge. Something much deeper, something more complex.

"My children, let it not be said that I have failed to love you - but that I loved you too much."​

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In that moment all came to a standstill. Time itself faded into the backdrop. Each beating heart filled one's ears, each gentle breath the sound of a tumultuous wind. In that moment clarity was bestowed upon Sieger's own, a clear and concise vision into Sieger's mind. Strong. Dangerous. Unique and yet uniform. The glimpse into the Supreme Leader's vision concluded violently, replaced with a welling of darkness, a torrent unlike anything experienced before. These, these were Sieger's chosen and his instruction was clear. No ambiguity. No room for interpretation. Sieger's command was one that would shake the foundations of their very faith, their loyalty. Those who emerged from the flames would be stronger for it. Those who did not would be deemed undeserving and taken care of accordingly.

Simultaneously across First Order space his agents moved with a vengeance. Like with a cancer, you didn't ignore the disease and hope it went away - you cut it out. Sieger had enlisted the strength of the FOSB against the weakest of their Order's number. Academies and enclaves had been infiltrated, the disloyal cut down where they stood or slept. By the time the day was done, the Ren would be like a distant memory to the public. A return to the shadow, a return to secrecy. The Order had expanded well past its initial limitations, bloated in ways Sieger hadn't anticipated. And now? It was time to cut off that which could no longer be sustained.

It had been a bold move, one just as likely to turn his cadre against him as it would instill loyalty reborn but worry he did not. Sieger had seen it. Whispers of the Force - of the darkness and of the light. They had shown him so many things, potential squandered, potential yet to come.. should he take it. Should he demand it. That time had come.

Large and unwieldy had the Order of Ren become. Infected by weakness, mottled with those who sought to further their own gains in lieu of Sieger's will. Always he had given precedence to merit, what had changed? Perhaps it was the newfound aggression coursing through his alien body, perhaps an awakening after the failures encountered against the rag-tag bands of outlaws along their borders. Whatever the source, the conclusion was the same. It was past time to re-align the Order of Ren with his vision. Sometimes, that required sacrifice - blood.

"The time has come for your loyalties to be stripped bare, your allegiance renewed - in blood."​

​

Those gathered before him remained those whom he deemed most loyal, those with the highest potential to become powerful weapons to be leveled against his enemies. Those who were most likely and most capable of carrying out his will. Each one of them had a choice to make, each one of them was being tested, prepared for what was to come. It was the moment that his children would recommit to their cause. His cause. Before each member sat a bronze dish, curved edges rising to form a bowl. Next to it rest a dagger of like burnished sheen, engravings lacing the blade and hilt. What came next was obvious but Sieger's words guided them nonetheless.

"Before you, a vessel. A blade." Sieger raised his own hands in the air, arms revealed bare in the flickering torchlight. "In blood shall our covenant be wrought, a renewal of fealty to your Supreme Leader." What he required of them was evident, what he expected of them was made moreso by his piercing gaze. Each bowl had a small notch near the bottom, a marker of sorts. To this line each bowl was to be filled. This was but the first step in a myriad but an important one. An oppressive heat filled the large obsidian chamber nestled deep within the Bastion of Ren. Fitting that this should be the location of the new pact - it was after-all, their home.

As the torchlight flickered revealing the glint of each dagger and the interior of each bowl, a small blackened cloth could be glimpsed opposite the dagger - presumably to bandage each wound incurred. Sieger stood at the head of the chamber, expectant eyes watching. This was but one piece of the test about to befall the Ren, one facet of their coming transformation. Voice rising above the gentle flutter of flame, Sieger issued the command.

"Proceed."​

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-​

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[member="Decima Fortan"] | @Mariskcal Lati | @The Eighth Guard | [member="Racosidae"]
@The Order of Ren​

OOC:​

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It is assumed that all members of the Knights of Ren are present here. You have been summoned because of your known loyalty to Sieger or perhaps your potential in the Force. You have been spared the paring of the Order, the culling of those deemed too weak to deserve a place at Sieger's table. It is in this moment you are being tested - will you submit to the Supreme Leader, or will you choose another path, one of exile?

As a note, I am willing to work with writers who do not wish for their character arcs to follow along this path but there are some changes within the organization that will be inescapable. If you have concerns or questions, by all means reach out to me and I will do everything I can to address them. Very much as our faction begins a new arc, so are the Ren and our organization. Look at this as an opportunity to get into character and really take advantage of the unique position the Ren are in and the unique roleplay opportunities we will have by changing our tune a little bit.

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[Dirk Bannahan]

Location: Chamber, Bastion of the Ren
Allies: [member="Sieger Ren"]
Enemies: Absolutely whosoever the Supreme Leader directs
Equipment: Violet Lightsaber, Hold-out Blaster, Blue Armorweave Cape
Morale: Neutral

You could feel it more so than the oppressive humidity of the this glorified dungeon. A thick soup of anger clarified the mind in its glorious focus -giving the impressionable “youth” that called itself Racosidae a hungry gleam in her purple hazed eyes.

At first, when her handler within the FOSB had directed her to return to the bastion rather then proceed with a coming mission she had been confused. Months of serving with the secretive agents as a human sized tank to squelch nonconformists in the outer reaches of this empire. It was a good distraction from the troubles inside. To separate from a developing comfort zone always caused the former Ren initiate much anxiety.

Seeing now the results: direct interaction with Supreme Leader, and a new covenant to be born anew under… these portents showed a new direction that provided promise for Rae. Maybe even hope.

It was with this hope that she focused on the tiny pain of cutting to shed blood. Unlike her peers, she would continue to cut to ensure the wound stayed open. Such was the inconvenience of being a regenerator.

 

[Bai Long]

When Sieger Ren mentioned that he loved them too much, that was when Dracrowar felt the felt stirrings of a dark omen. When they were first called to gather in the obsidian chamber, he was calm, even indifferent, because the knight has always known that the person he chose to follow and gave his oaths to is fair.

Perhaps to the rest of the Galaxy, their Supreme Leader was someone who was cruel and whose views were criminal, but to someone who was taken in when he was at wit’s end, Dracrowar felt that the great man they answered to was the law. After all, pretty terms like democracy and freedom meant nothing to someone hungry and downtrodden.

So, he had thought that this was just another assembly of sorts where they would determine their future direction, until those words has left Sieger Ren’s mouth. The second set of words he spoke were reasonable enough, though Dracrowar questioned why did they need to renew their fealty. Unless some of the others has committed a betrayal. As he was away for too long, he lacked the information on the current workings within the Ren.

But like the first time that the Supreme Leader has asked him for his oath of loyalty, Dracrowar picked up the dagger that was prepared for them. He has always trusted in Sieger Ren and that was not about to change. And with the new connection he made by meeting Marr, he was doubly determined to stick around and see where it led him.

Without hesitating, he sliced into his arm and let his blood fall into the bowl. As his blood dropped and gathered, he placed down the dagger and picked up the black cloth, prepared to wipe the wound as soon as it filled to where the notch indicated.

[member="Sieger Ren"], [member="Racosidae"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"], [member="Decima Fortan"], @The Eighth Guard, [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau, Ren
Location: Chamber, Bastion of the Ren
Equipment: Black Suit/Tie, Two Lightsabers (Ruby and Emerald color)

Careful.

Seto's eyes focused on the blade before him, fingers traced the edge and he tapped the blade once as if to make sure the weapon was indeed real. It all felt rather particular strange to him, overall such demand of blood normally indicated ultimate surrender. Kneeling, words filled with platitudes, and action often signified loyalty or trustfulness. But to give up one's own blood? Seto continued to eye the blade with focus, the mind wandered from thought to thought even if his sabacc face should falter and show confusion, he wanted time to think.

Careful.

A deep breath expanded his chest outward, as air escaped his lips Seto dragged the blade across his palm and allowed the blood flow downwards into the basin. If words of fealty were required, Seto would speak them; if the act of kneeling were required, Seto would kneel; and now blood was demanded and Seto likewise obliged willingly. The others around were tasked with the same requirement to continue their service under their Supreme Leader, their father. How so few of us that now remain.

Careful.

Blood continued to fall and fill the basin, slowly it reached the mark, and the young Du Couteau heir watched intently as each drop fell. The black cloth pressed gently across the self inflicted wound, and wordlessly Seto applied the bandage and halted the flow of his blood. His eyes wondered to the blood now out of his body and made sacrifice for Lord Sieger.

"Now and forever your brother-" The memory returned him quickly, a small reminder. Seto's smile tugged the corners of his lips as he adjusted his black tie. He has became Ren.

[member="Decima Fortan"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="The Eighth Guard"] | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Stephen Dracrowar"]

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric | Primat Ren​

Chamber, Bastion of Ren​

Ren Armor; helmetless | 1x Lightsaber (crimson)​

[member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Sieger Ren"] | [member="Racosidae"]​

[member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Stephen Dracrowar"]​

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"My children, let it not be said that I have failed to love you - but that I loved you too much."

Primat had sensed that something was amiss in the Bastion of Ren. He knew that there had to have been something wrong. It had been a week's time since he had heard anything from a few of his friends in the Order of Ren, within that time frame, he had noticed something odd as well. The number of individuals in the Order...had dropped significantly. Under any normal circumstances, the man would have thought nothing of these things. His mind would, under typical ideas and thoughts, believed that everything was good, that nothing was wrong --- that all the other Ren were out on missions. The Force had told the young Ren otherwise about what was going on. It didn't feed him any proper, coherent thoughts about what was happening, all the Force brought to the Ren's mind was a feeling of emptiness as if dozens upon dozens of voices had become silenced and now...and now all there was, was the muffled speech of those who had been silenced --- trying, failing, to reach out to the force for help.

As soon as Primat had heard the words of the Supreme Leader, the words of Sieger Ren...he was taken aback.

In past dealings, the man, Varian, wouldn't have heeded these thoughts and impressions from the Force. He would have seen them, heard them, felt them...and yet he would have ignored him. But, he wasn't the same man he was when he had first joined the Order of Ren, the Knights of Ren; the Order of Ren was an organization which Primat believed helped the First Order to bring justified order and peace to a Galaxy that had been too long at war. Those thoughts remained in the young man throughout his whole time in the First Order, it was merely his ideas and interpretations of the Force that had changed. He now took the Force as it was, and the impressions it bestowed onto him with much respect and gratitude, heeding the things the Force spoke to him.

His hand didn't shake as he took the blade in hand. Primat's fingers traced along the blunt edge of the blade, following the designs and intricate patterns of the ornate blade. He didn't have doubts now, did he? No, he didn't. He didn't have doubts. Cutting his hand, letting his blood gather in the bowl, it didn't shake the Ren's resolve of stone made from self-induced morals and a system of personal honor to bring Peace and Order to a Galaxy that didn't know what that was anymore. Without hesitation, the young man sliced the blade across the surface of his tanned palm. The skin split where the blade had run against, blood seeping through the broken skin and dropping into the bowl below. Primat clenched his fist over the bowl, causing the number of droplets and drippings of crimson blood to increase in frequency and speed. It wasn't a clenching out of pain or worry, it was one of conviction as the blood ran between his fingers and across his hand, staining it in a shine of light crimson. Even as the bowl of blood filled, the man's gaze remained transfixed away from the black cloth meant to bandage the wound...

Any doubts the man had were nonexistent. That was...except for the thoughts of his fellow Ren being silenced. That thought, with a pang of uncertainty and fear hanging in his stomach...remained...

 

[Yaadri Osi-Yyn]

This life was new to him. He was ready to commit himself to this order. He had no life, no purpose, this was his purpose. Though like many around him, he was a new member. It was an honour to even be in the same room as the great Supreme Leader.

Countless thoughts filled his mind, ideas swirling even future prospects... aspirations as he glared at some of the Masters of Ren in the room. Though, he quickly turned back as the Supreme Leader spoke.

Blood? As he demanded. Tyrus would not hesitate, he could not. This was an opportunity for him to prove himself. To prove he would do anything, all it took was for the order to reach his ears. He lifted the blade and dug it into his hand, deep enough for blood to begin to rush out, with that he pulled across his palm, before taking it out as the blood ran down the side of his hand and dropped down into the bowl.

Watching it fill the bowl, he would glance up to the Supreme Leader in case he were watching and gave a swift nod in his direction. With that, he would place the dagger down and and quickly wrap the black cloth around his hand. It was a step in the right direction.

[member="Sieger Ren"] | [member="Stephen Dracrowar"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Primat Ren"]​

 

[Kaiah Nihl]

Chamber, Bastion of Ren
Black Robes // Crimson Lightsaber
[member="Sieger Ren"] | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Stephen Dracrowar"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Primat Ren"] | [member="Tyrus Ren"] | [member="Eighth Guard"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"]

They had come for her in the night, small slinking predators armed with sharp knives. Silent and stealthy, they had broken into her room with ease and moved in to strike. One had grabbed her lightsaber while the other moved towards her bed, intending to cut her throat. Too late did they realize she was no longer asleep. They turned to find her closing the door with a sharp ‘click’, her eyes and her hair alight with flame.

Her bunk on the FIV Pellaeon was then sealed off. Her outburst had destroyed the room, leaving the walls black with soot and turning her bed ash. She did not know why the agents had tried to kill her, but she had her suspicions. She had thought that perhaps it was because she was non-human, or maybe her brother had hired assassins to kill her. There was nothing the man wouldn’t stoop to.

- - - - -​

It had all become clear after her summons, brought before the Supreme Leader himself along with all the other Ren. Their numbers had thinned dramatically, and it didn't take long for her to realise why. ‘They thought me weak’ she thought. ‘They had truly intended to kill me’. Had it been a test? Or was she a weak link in the Order of Ren?

She knew they had her doubts. Her origins were hardly promising. Recovered from the Spires of Hell, racked with insanity, a mind so broken it needed to be reconstructed by the Ren. A foreigner, a non-human from past known space. She glanced at the other Knights of Ren, waiting for Sieger to speak. Would he order them to cut her down, here and now?

Evidentially not, for the man spoke of a rebirth, a new beginning, and not her end. He bade for them to reaffirm their loyalty, to prove it with blood. Her orange eyes, bright in the low light, glanced at the blade. She saw two reflections gleaming off each side of the blade. In both she saw herself, albeit older, but that was where the similarities ended.

In one she saw a woman with her hand unbloodied, her grey skin wrinkled with age. She saw her older-self, an old huddled thing lying curled up in her bed on Nagi, shivering. Outside, her children, now adults, set out to seek their own legacy and left her behind. Alone and weak, the woman closed her eyes. Drawing her final breath her eyes shimmered with something, perhaps peace or perhaps regret. She let out the held breath and died.

The second reflection showed a young Nagai woman, her hand dripping blood. The woman exuded an aura of power, her hair alight with flame. She watched as the woman laughed, pulling more and more of the inferno around her. She sent out great fiery gusts, the whirlwind burning and consuming everything within her sight. Her enemy would attack, only to be reduced to ash as the fire rose higher. The woman laughed again, wisps of smoke curling from her mouth. Her skin cracks, great fissures of molten flame running underneath. Kaiah watches as the Nagai is consumed, leaving only a raging maelstrom.

She thinks for only a moment before she makes her choice. Her hand stings as she draws the blade across her palm, cutting deep, trying to get as much blood as possible. She watches as the crimson liquid spills out and fills the basin, putting the knife down when it reaches the required level. She stares at the pool of blood, and at the small flames that dance across the surface.

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Initiate, Praetorian Guard
Equipment | Praetorian Armour, Vibro-Arbir Blade, Lightsaber (blue), Throwing Knives
Location | Bastion of Ren, Virgillia
Allies | [member="Sieger Ren"], [member="Eighth Guard"], [member="Decima Fortan"], [member="Racosidae"], [member="Seto Du Couteau"], [member="Kaiah Nihl"], [member="Primat Ren"], [member="Stephen Dracrowar"], [member="Tyrus Ren"]

Across the First Order’s dominion, flame after flame were extinguished, the disappearance of their presence reverberating through the Force. Marriskcal stood once again in the chamber of obsidian and lava, clad in the crimson regalia that denoted her as one of his chosen.

With each dousing of a life, it felt almost like her heart was pierced through by a blade of ice. While the young woman understood her Lord and Master’s reasoning, it did not stop her from feeling the mélange of sorrow and pain that permeated through the entirety of her soul. No matter their faults, no matter their weaknesses, they were once her brethren, beings whom she deemed brothers and sisters. And thus, Marriskcal grieved for their passing.

Even then, a part of her could not help but to feel both shame and relief that the great being they served did not command for them to be the ones to cleanse the Order of Ren of the weak and unworthy. Though the Sieger Ren did not reveal his reasoning, the blonde knew it was a kindness that he has bestowed upon them. As someone who has always given much of herself to her siblings, bearing witness to the death rictus of her brothers and sisters would make for an agonising memory.

Silent, but vigilant, Marriskcal took comfort from the presence of her counterpart, her hands resting lightly at the back of her arbir blade as her gaze swept through those who were gathered in the sanctum. A touch of elation weaved itself into her aura when her keen eyes affixed itself on several familiar forms.

 

[Progflaw99]

A roamer. That's what they called him - or at least those were the rumors. It hadn't always been that way but over the last several months Castor had spent more time abroad than at home. It had been the Supreme Leader's uncompromising command that had brought him back to ground in the Bastion of Ren. As they had all been shepherded into the large chamber Castor began to realize just how many unknown faces greeted him. Gone were the familiar friends of old whether by attrition or some other means. It almost felt like the end of a chapter as the doors were closed behind him, subtle sound of locking mechanisms whirring. *What is this?*

He didn't have long to wait. He felt it before he saw it, Sieger Ren standing at the head of the chamber. The man's immense power was not easily concealed, least of all to his children. As their Supreme Leader's words filled the chamber he could feel the familiar tendrils of power reaching out to touch them all - this time though, they lingered. He was neither compelled to obey nor coerced. No, this was something different. Unlike the feeling of being pressed beyond his limits amidst the field of battle, driven by some taskmaster. This was something new. Something of finality. A choice. Castor knew before the words were uttered what he was being asked to do - without hesitation he acted.

Gently his fingers grasped the ornate dagger beside him, leather wrapped hilt warm to the touch. The weight of the blade surprised the Knight, every sense in his body heightening as he carefully brought the curved edge to rest against the flesh of his exposed palm. He didn't even feel it first, the razored edge slicing through each layer of skin with the minutest of effort until the crimson liquid began to flow. An itch at first as his nerves began to catch up, then pain - a violent burning sensation gripped Castor. His jaw pulsed as he watched the blood flow into the brazen bowl, a strange euphoria gripping him. Was this a test of obedience? A strange new ritual? An initiation of sorts? His questions began to fade the closer the scarlet liquid came to the artistic notch in the surface of the bowl. The reason was irrelevant - he held faith in the Supreme Leader and by that acknowledgement came peace. It was asked of him, and so he gave.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Like a statue carved from crimson stone, Decima stood stock-still. The only motion was hidden beneath her visor, as her eyes took everything in. As the Supreme Leader made his requirements known, the Praetorian's palms itched, where the livid pink scars on her alabaster skin told the story of her own sacrifice, the filling of her own vessel with devotion written in blood. The wound had healed over, but the burning fervor still seared, not in her skin but in her blood and her soul.

Her dark eyes -- Fortan eyes -- continued their sojourn around the chamber, and her hands in their gauntlets and gloves were clasped behind her back. She stood near the Supreme Leader, ready to move to defend him even now in the holiest of their holies, in the most sacred of their sanctums. The Supreme Leader was pushing the Ren, as he often did, and it was when people were pushed that they tended to snap. It would end poorly if anyone moved against Sieger at any time, but especially now when his most loyal protectors were at hand.

The event was proceeding in relative peace, though Decima could feel the conflicting emotions roiling her colleagues. For the capricious Decima, this was enough to draw a slight smirk to her hidden features. It was going to be a fascinating evening.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Thoughts were circulating all across his mind, as he felt the dark call of his Master. He had spent an unknown amount of time under the custody of Commenor, a foolhardy mistake he had made. His obsession with the Jedi clearly getting the better of him, unfortunately, it wasn't the first time that his obsessions had always taken control of him rather than his duty and oath to both the Supreme Leader and the interests of the First Order. Now wandering from the Hanger into the halls of the Bastion. Memories he had carried so far for years came bubbling back to the surface.

Remembering the time he had spent when he was a Disciple. Something more machine than man. Something more like Vader. Made of Durasteel and charred flesh, thoughts came off during his first days the Bastion was invaded by Aliens when the First Order was originally growing, and as it grew so did he. Fond memories came and went along with the darkest of them all. Yet in a way this was his home as if Vader's Sanctum was his home, this was where the Master of Ren began.

Yet as he walked then it happened. Ren cutting down other Ren, the look on his face was shocking.. Terror, fear filled his face. Why was the Ren killing each other. Why? He felt it quickly as it went. Mustafar, Skye, Lothal. The Ren was being torn apart in just mere moments. What could be heard was screams of anguish, blood coursing through the halls. Fear gripped Kyrel, thoughts raced through his mind wondering if he would be killed.

He approached the grand hall with haste, to see the Supreme Leader as soon as the door opened. Fear and awe was what he had felt the most when in his presence. All his life as Kyrel Ren he had served Sieger faithfully. Why? Why did he allow the Ren to be torn apart, no longer numerous as the Jedi or the Sith.

Yet the questions in his mind were soon answered when the Supreme Leader spoke, surrounded by the Illustrious Praetorian Guards. With what he had presented the Ren with, was a bowl, a knife, and a black cloth. He was offering a choice. Swear a new oath to Sieger Ren or be swept by the tides of the future.

It was clear, Kyrel as Master of Ren, despite the trouble he had caused, despite his reckless and insubordinate behavior. One guiding light to it all was his loyalty to the Ren. That every choice he made was because the Ren was all that mattered to him, there was no going back. The only choice the Master of Ren had was to perhaps be reborn from the ashes of the past and to be apart of a new beginning not for the Ren, but in a way a personal motive as if to redeem himself for all the wrongs he has done, and how far he has strayed from the vision of the Supreme Leader. For he alone was absolute.

Stepping forward to the bowl, as well as the Ren that was in the room, he gently took hold of the Knife, gliding his fingertips along the hilt. Opening his palm, he guided the blade along the palm slowly, before quickly pulling back. Cutting himself and setting the blade aside. The crimson drops quickly fell to the inside of the bowl, after a stream of droplets began to cover the bowl. He took the cloth and wrapped it firmly along the cut of his hand, covering the palm. Now wearing a determined look as if the cut didn't make him twitch. He looked to the Supreme Leader. Hoping that some measure of salvation, of absolution, could form up inside of him and perhaps to make things right.

 

[Progflaw99]

With each nick of the flesh, with each droplet of blood released, Sieger could feel his power grow. In irritation he noted the source of his newfound power. He had to admit, despite the new shackles Decitus did provide a means to power he had yet been unable to attain. Dark Side sorcery at its finest. How deep the roots of control went, Sieger didn't know - but right now was not the time to test them. Not yet. Slowly but surely as each bowl began to fill so also did an oppressive shroud impress upon the chamber. The air became thick, torches once burning bright, dimmed as if being suffocated. This was by no means a one way transaction. With each beat of their hearts, with each contribution to the blood in their bowls, a darkness was replaced. A mark upon them, a scar upon their very souls. More than a simple gift of blood, this was a joining - a connecting of each and every one of them to each other and to Sieger.

A new dawn for the Knights of Ren, a return to the shadows. In his absence they had grown unchecked, unguided. Sieger's face lit up with a grin as the ritual drew to a close. It was the first of many changes, the first of many trials to come. Silence had consumed the chamber save the gentle fluttering of the flames - it was then that the Supreme Leader began to speak again.

"Each one of you has given to me - each one of you reaffirmed our pact in blood. Those of you who are here will be all that remain. It is you whom I have deemed most loyal. It is you who have the most potential. It is you who will become our future." He let the words hang momentarily, the full weight of what he had revealed looming over them. "Merit has always been a driving force behind our Order. To merit it shall return. What is to be done when a cancer infects the body? It must be rooted out, and in some cases, an arm or a leg must be taken. Cut out the weak. Cut out the disloyal. Cut out the cancer." Violently he spoke, piercing gaze resting on each one present in turn. "You my children, are a new breed. You are survivors, fighters. Loyal and full of potential. It is time that we focused your strengths."

A cutting glance towards his Praetorians directed attention to their crimson attire. "These are my Praetorians, the most prestigious of our Order. They serve as my personal guards and speak with my authority. Should they instruct you in any way - you are to treat their word as my own. Disobedience will not be tolerated." Crimson attire denoted those to whom he referred, an obvious air of power about them. There was an ominous pause as a sense of horror weighed upon those present. "There will be no more disobedience, no more self serving efforts - from this moment forward you will accept your place as one piece of the whole."

The would be questions, there would be some degree of unrest, but ultimately there would be obedience - or there would be death. It was not their place to question the Supreme Leader, though he had no doubt that there would be discussion amongst the ranks. To Sieger it was simple. You were either strong enough to persevere or you weren't. "You, my Knights of Ren, will be my dagger in the night. My agents in the greater galaxy, and through your actions we will bring the Order into a new era of greatness. The answers to the questions we seek lie not in the core, nor the outback - they lie in the unexplored worlds of our predecessors over seven centuries ago. The answers hide there, the Unknown Regions." It was a decided shift for the Knights and what they had become in his absence. Barely had they been given the information that all their brethren who were not in attendance had been culled, but now the Supreme Leader sought to return from whence they'd emerged? Whatever had been known about their order in the past had suddenly come under fire and it was hard to guess at just what might emerge. One thing was certain, it would be different.

"You will now house out of the Bastion, no longer will you roam without express authorization - these and other guidelines will be passed down to you by Senior members of the Order. Heed their words and you will never have to worry about running afoul of my wishes." With a venomous touch his words sliced deep into the consciousness of those within the chamber. "If there are any among you who wish to renounce your vows, you have my word that you will be afforded safe travel from the First Order's borders - once." It almost visibly pained him to say it, as if he couldn't quite stomach it but was compelled to. As the sound of his voice faded the oppressive presence began to relent, a shock of cold air coursing into the room. "For those of you who wish to remain... your training begins tomorrow in earnest. It will not be easy, it will not come without toil - but you will earn your place at my side. As it should have been from the beginning."

"Do not disappoint me."

-​

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[member="Racosidae"] | @Stephen Dracowar | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Primat Ren"] | [member="Tyrus Ren"] | [member="Kaiah Nihl"]
[member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Castor Ren"] | [member="Decima Fortan"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"]
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[Progflaw99]

"If the leader is filled with high ambition ​

and if he pursues his aims with audacity and strength of will, ​

he will reach them in spite of all obstacles."​

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~Carl von Clausewitz​

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-​

​

Their instructions were anything but unclear - a new dawn had arisen for the Order of Ren and it would be their task to see those Knights assembled to it. Blood. Sweat. Sacrifice. All things that would soon be required of those members of the Order. Even the Praetorian felt the full weight of Sieger's words as he uttered them. "Do not disappoint me." It felt both simultaneously spoken to the group as a whole and to the man himself. Though his expression shifted the opaque crimson of his helmet remained steadfastly inanimate. Like a visage of stone he stood at the edge of the room, in fact it was likely those in attendance had forgotten he was even there as the riveting figure of the Supreme Leader stood silently after uttering his last. Instinctively the Praetorian knew it was time. Every movement measured as he stepped rigidly into the flickering torchlight. Through heavy modulation his voice rose above the silence.

:: It is the will of the Supreme Leader that every one of you earn your keep, your place, your right to call yourselves a Knight of Sieger Ren. To do this, you are hereby commanded to report for training upon the morn. Eat. Rest. Sleep. Prepare yourselves for the trials ahead. Within your new chambers at the Bastion of Ren you will find attire provided for the training exercises - there should be no deviation. You will live as a team, train as a team, and if need be - die as a team.:: It was a change for all of them, some accustomed to more lavish provisions, others used to being allowed their own freedom of expression. That time had come and gone, at least in the moment. From behind the immovable face of the man's visor he eyed the other Praetorians about him. The secrets they knew, the wealth of knowledge each contained. It would be their duty to protect Sieger from any threat that may await them. It would be their duty to train their brothers and sisters, those initiates spared from the culling. :: You are dismissed. Do not be late upon the dawn. :: his almost robotic voice chirped through the vocabulator.

-​

The Ren had been assigned a small chamber in the lower levels of the Bastion, each one according to their station. The most spartan of these was reserved for the newest of the initiates. Only slightly larger quarters to the long standing Knights of Ren though even these were more sparse than before. A bunk, a narrow refresher, and a small wardrobe filled with dark nondescript tunics and trousers. Each would fit the acolytes comfortably, almost as if their measurements had been known and tailored to each one. A small assortment of standard training gear was contained in the chest at the foot of each bunk. A blackened waterskin, a wide leather utility belt, and a small day pack filled with odds and ends. Until the morning each would have time enough to investigate the contents of their room, study, visit the archives, or rest. The Bastion was still their home and they had free roam of its halls. The Praetorians however would watch silently from the shadows, observing their trainees and secreting away notes in their minds about them. What the Knights of Ren chose to do and how they chose to prepare for the morning's trials would tell their tutors much about who they were. More important however, was how they would take to the new training regimen. That was when their true selves would surface, when their true nature and dedication would be revealed.

-​

​

Sometime just before dawn...

Darkness still consumed the surface of Virgilia, the Bastion of Ren little more than a darker splash of shadow against the blackened sky. Dawn had yet to come but each Knight of Ren would awaken suddenly as if unceremoniously jerked from the realm of dreams, spurred towards their calling. Upon the uppermost landing of the Path of Jagged Stones the Praetorians waited patiently for their students to arrive. Shoulder to shoulder, their crimson armor now replaced with lightweight crimson armor over tunic and trousers, not unlike those found in each Knight's wardrobe. The only difference perhaps were the helmets which covered their faces, hidden behind a scarlet veil of anonymity. To appear as one is to act as one. It was these subtle things that portrayed the very foundations of their order, foundations which had been forgotten or simply left to fall by the wayside. Patiently Sieger's personal guards awaited their charges and in a moment of silence Barbatos of Ren made his voice heard among his peers.

:: Are any of you ready for what is to come? I would not deign to question the Supreme Leader, but is this truly the path to success? In one fell swoop our number was fractioned. ::
Doubt was not a sin, much less considering the regard in which Sieger held his Praetorians. They were there not only to protect, but to provide feedback - perhaps a testament to Sieger's trust in them. A luxury not afforded to the others of the Order. Barbatos was resolute as any of them but even those most loyal needed a sounding board. What better way than that of his peers?

[member="Eighth Guard"] | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Decima Fortan"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Kaiah Nihl"] | [member="Tyrus Ren"] | [member="Primat Ren"] | [member="Stephen Dracrowar"]​

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau, Ren
Location: Chamber, Bastion of the Ren
Equipment: Black Tunic, Two Lightsabers (Ruby and Emerald color)

The offering accepted, and now his choice sealed for as long as his blood continued to move through out his body with now an added element. Seto often viewed the Force as troublesome, often it gave unneeded ache or worse a lens to his own mind and deeper feelings. Now it proved the same as felt a foreign fragment intertwine with his own self and Force presence.

Is this what it truly means to offer myself to others? The thought hardly warmed the soul, but this feeling did not feel invasive nor was his first reaction to reject it. Just as any scar or markings, this was earned by his own choice and action, as such Seto breathed deeply and accepted his new fate.

His eyes ventured between each one present in the Throne room all the while his ears listened carefully to Lord Sieger's words, or rather his warnings. A displeased father was rather different than that of an angered one, such was the difference Seto wondered which he would have rather preferred. The comparison of rooting and cutting clean the cancer pushed Seto's favor to the former option rather than the later. Quite amusing really, either we offer to spill our own blood or it shall be done by force. The connected made in his mind gave no solace, but only continued sobering thoughts of the future.

How easier life certainly would be if he had been nothing but a mindless drone only fit to follow the most basic commands, Quite a repugnant lot in life actually. A soft phantom of a smile danced across his features at the mere thought of being a simple man in a simple galaxy. And that would be a boring lot of a life instead. No, Seto figured if he were to embrace the absurdity of this galaxy, better to do it with a willing step forward and under a guidance of a Force larger than life in Lord Sieger Ren.

Let us see how far we can go, how further we soar before we all tumble downwards to our eventual end. This time his smile turned real, Seto had no second thoughts. Disappointment has been filled to the brim in this galaxy, now I must dance around it all as I have always done before and continue to do so.

​

---

The amenities of their new quarters filled Seto with disappointment, My that was fast. Wearily he searched around and began to reorganize a few matters with his new room. Firstly these new tunics and clothing, Seto's careful eye and hands found the material of decent quality and after a quick sizing he mumbled slight approval of the fitting. Not that I would ever complain so soon after seeing my new room.

Seto sighed and returned his attention to the rest of his room, he noted while very utilitarian the room as a whole was not uncomfortable by any stretch of the word. Careful, he pulled out his deck of sabacc cards from inside his vest and slowly undressed himself to replace his own clothing with what was provided. His suit, vest and tie all laid neatly in the trunk with his pants forming its foundation, as it were Seto bemused with himself at the thought of saying good bye to his clothing.

Slowly he sat cross legged ontop of his bed and silently focused the mind and body, the Force called upon as Seto mediated to ready himself for the trails in the morning. The young Du Couteau had already suffered through quite some rigorous training and tests, but something in the Praetorian's roused a sense of anticipation.

---

The gravity of his new situation hadn't fully dawned on Seto, even as the Sun had yet risen from its own slumber. Huh, almost as if they intend for us to raise the star itself back up into the sky. Amusing and utterly ridiculous as the notion sounded, the Knight of Ren were here to conduct the impossible and allow their Lord's will to become realized. Perhaps raising a sun to its place would be a simpler task from the Ren's future duties.

Of course, now the question if the path to success laid here in front of them, If I were to venture a guess or rather hazard one, one can only train and wait to find out. Perhaps not an answer most pleasing to the ear in his mind, but Seto had been dealt terrible hands in the past and the path to success never appeared straight forward. Or fair for that matter.

"And he will continue to do so until our Lord obtains his desired goals for us Ren. So best we achieve success the first time, either from a path set before us, or one we make with our own blood, sweat and tears." Seto voiced his opinion, his smile tugged only one corner of his lips as he had a much relaxed tone in his voice.

[member="Eighth Guard"] | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Decima Fortan"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Barbatos"] | [member="Kaiah Nihl"] | [member="Tyrus Ren"] | [member="Primat Ren"] | [member="Stephen Dracrowar"]

 

[Bai Long]

With each drop of blood that fell into the bowl, there was a tug on his soul. But considering he himself dabbled in Dark Side alchemy, it was something Dracrowar has already more or less expected. He did not seek to fight it as it buried itself deep in him. Instead, he carelessly wiped the wound and held the cloth within a fist as he waited for the blood to begin clotting.

It was then that the Supreme Leader opened his mouth to continue with his speech. And when Sieger Ren spoke, you listened.

When it came to survival, Dracrowar has gained a rather mercenary perspective. Him, and those he considered family above all else. Other than that, the whole galaxy can burn for all that he cared. He shrugged when the fate of the rest of the Order were mentioned. When he had left to wander the Galaxy, the Order was large and bloated and he could barely remember them for their sheer numbers. The culling may be cruel, but in his opinion, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

What did displease him however was the fact that they will be expected to stay in the Bastion, without the freedom to roam. But it was something minor and Dracrowar could live with being restless for several weeks while he adjusted to a non-nomadic life.

x

In his new quarters, Dracrowar looked in slight dismay at the dark clothing they’ve been provided for the use for the near future. As someone who was used to wearing whatever he wanted so long as he managed to accomplish his tasks, the sudden change was disorientating. But he soothed himself by telling himself that they were only required to wear them for official functions and missions and his favored crimson coat could still be worn… on his personal time.

On usual days, he might have wandered around the Bastion to familiarize himself with its layout. But after the renewal of fealty and the silently threatening message left by one of the Praetorians, Dracrowar was more interested in filling his stomach and turning in early. They were the elites that were charged with Sieger Ren’s safety. None of them were to be underestimated. Placing Rebellion gently on the top of the chest, the male wandered to the cafeteria in search of food.

x

He blearily donned his new gear, yawning as he made his way out of his new quarters. With the cold air greeting him, Dracrowar became more awake with each step he took towards the landing. He did not sleep well the night before, with many thoughts intruding into his mind. After all, it was sprung upon them quite suddenly and he doubted that any of them had time to truly adjust to the new direction just yet.

But he was also confident that before long, they will get used to the change. Life finds a way to continue, and if you don’t adapt, you’ll only perish. And Dracrowar was a survivor, if nothing else.

@Sieger Ren, [member="Racosidae"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"], [member="Decima Fortan"], [member="Eighth Guard"], [member="Seto Du Couteau"], [member="Tyrus Ren"], [member="Kaiah Nihl"], [member="Castor Ren"], [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Primat Ren"], [member="Barbatos"]

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Initiate, Praetorian Guard
Equipment | Praetorian Armour, Vibro-Arbir Blade, Lightsaber (blue), Throwing Knives
Location | Bastion of Ren, Virgillia
Allies | [member="Sieger Ren"], [member="Eighth Guard"], [member="Decima Fortan"], [member="Racosidae"], [member="Seto Du Couteau"], [member="Kaiah Nihl"], [member="Primat Ren"], [member="Stephen Dracrowar"], [member="Tyrus Ren"], [member="Castor Ren"], [member="Barbatos"]

It was the long stretch between twilight and sunrise, just after the witching hour has passed, when they gathered on the Path of Jagged Stones. The skies above was still ebony and midnight in hue, and the air touched with a hint of frost. As someone who lived most of her life on the wintry peak of Canaitith, Marriskcal remained unaffected by the chill of the winds that caressed their forms. After the ceremony of rebirth the previous evening, the young woman was subdued, content to allow her mind to meander through the day’s lessons when a low baritone broke through the silence.

The blonde inclined her head towards the Overlord, the slight motion concealed beneath the raiment of the helmet and armour she donned as she contemplated the query he posed. “It is the age-old argument of quality over quantity. There are many paths to success, and while our Lord and Master has decided on a drastic course, I feel that it is not necessarily an adverse one.” Though it still hurt to know that only a mere handful of them were left to wander the vast grounds of the Bastion, Marriskcal buried her pain beneath callous logic.

“Over the years, our Order has thrived, but with any organisation that has been allowed to flourish far too quickly, it has become bloated and stagnant, filled with corrupted teachings and tainted views.” There had been too many independent thoughts, words that deviated a degree with every exchange. By the time it reached the ears of the twentieth disciple, it would be far from the original teachings. “With the Order so dispersed, it also makes it challenging to ensure that every single one of our brethren’s skills remain sharp and diverse.” With a few of them left, it would be easier to focus on them while ensuring they would not stray from their path.

“We will recover with time.” Of this, Marriskcal was confident in.

But there were also detriments to having their numbers so reduced. “However, it also means that we will have to keep in mind that we will have less support for future assignments.” As someone who was used to having her brothers and sisters by her side, it was a daunting thought.

“And… I cannot claim to say that I am prepared,” she admitted. There were too many variables, too many divergences. To claim that one was prepared to address all of them would be utter folly. But despite all her hesitation and doubts over the years, the blonde has never once quailed from a challenge. “But I will face any trials as they come.”

 

[Kaiah Nihl]

She had dreams of shadow and flame but, unlike her vision, it was not her that was afire. Instead she watched as flame burned away everything, a hunger personified and given form. She looked on as the fire burned the last scrap of life and guttered out, leaving her in darkness. She sat in the shadow, desperately looking for something, anything, that had survived. She had collapsed in despair when a hand had dropped a bloodied knife at her feet.

She awakens in her chamber, lying on her back in view of the smooth stone ceiling. Rising from her bed, she does her morning stretches, drilled into her from her childhood. Donning her robes, she is pleased that they fit and were comfortable enough to move in. She ties back her hair, ensuring that no loose strands floated back down to her face. Picking up her supplies, Kaiah straps her lightsaber to her side and leaves the room.

- - - - -​

Excluding the Praetorians, she was the third to arrive. Seto looked strange without his fancy clothes, but she thought the robes suited him. The other, Dracowar, looked less comfortable but seemed confident about the trials ahead. A small measure of apprehension crept into her at the thought of training ahead, but she found it useless to worry and pushed the feeling away. She was keen to see the others arrive, it had been difficult to see the others in the ritual the night before and she was curious about the other Ren.

She stayed out of the conversation, but it was a curious topic. She supposed that had so many Ren not fallen in one blow, then this training would be not be necessary. She knew that they were here because they were the stronger. The weakest were dead and the weaker would die soon. She stayed silent, and that would be her answer. She wouldn’t entertain pointless questions; instead she entered a calm in her mind, readying herself for the trials ahead.

| [member="Sieger Ren"] | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Stephen Dracrowar"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Primat Ren"] | [member="Tyrus Ren"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Castor Ren"] | [member="Decima Fortan"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Barbatos"] |​

 

[Progflaw99]

No answer to the discussion was returned by the crimson clad instructor, the bare faceplate of his helmet impassive as ever. To Baratos, it appeared as if everyone required was in attendance, any of those who were not by now would find themselves the subject of Sieger's own wrath - if it came to that. Baratos was no more arbiter of their fate than an ant among ants. He knew his place. Soon enough, the Knights of Ren would know theirs. In silence he surveyed those who had arrived. Once they may have been warriors, feared on the field of battle against the enemies of Sieger Ren. Some had seen combat during the Omega Crisis, others still the more recent wars with the Galactic Alliance and her bedfellows. What they would now endure was not only a physical manifestation of their fall from Sieger's graces but would be the penance for their hubris.

The Praetorian's question had drawn a response from one of the first to arrive as well as one of his peers. No further discussion was necessary on the matter, there was nought but to action. With a brief nod to the Praetorians he moved, the crimson stain of his armor shimmering in the rays of first light. :: We go. Keep up. If you fall behind, you will not be saved. ::

With a turn of his heel he began the precarious trek down the steep stairway before them. This close to the Bastion the steps were cleanly paved, some carved into the rock, others clad with marbled stone. Though the foliage had regrown and the blood washed away, scars remained from the assault against the Bastion made by the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium. Aggressive gashes marred some of the patterned stone where beast had trod, perhaps even gnashed at the Ren survivors - all of them forgotten as the clean path descended. Where there had been stone at first gave way to shifting ground, rock and gravel creating unsure footing. Other places the path became so narrow that they had to shuffle along the open face of the cliffs. Would it have been easier to utilize a shuttle to the ground? Perhaps, but that was not the lesson. There was a purpose here.

Along the path, jagged stones periodically marked the way. Once brazen plaques were embedded into their surface now obscured by time, their once visible faces faded with dirt. This was the Path of Jagged Stones. A time ago it had seen every initiate ascend its length to reach the wide doors of the Bastion, a culmination of tests and trials performed in the jungle below. How many had died upon its face? How many more would tread its path once again? It took them hours to traverse the hazardous terrain, slowing at times but never stopping. The sun had risen high into the sky and almost begun its descent. Humidity permeated the air like a thick blanket. Every breath came labored - but none would know it behind the Praetorian's crimson faceplate. They were expected to be the best, the pinnacle of the Supreme Leader's cabal. The ground finally began to level out, jagged and uneven rock giving way to the soft soil of the jungle floor. A glance upward at the viridian canopy explained the heavy moisture in the air. Like an insulator the wide leaves absorbed the heat of the sun but kept the moisture from being evaporated upwards - if they hadn't been sweating before they most certainly would be now.

Abruptly the jungle opened up into a ring of open ground. It was here that Baratos stopped. The man motioned for them to form a circle, indicating they could take a moment of rest. :: It is here that your trials shall begin. A new trial, a new beginning - forget what you know. Skills you have acquired may aid you however leave your assumptions here. :: He waited for a moment, allowing the initiates and Knights to sip their water, perhaps nibble on a piece of bread. Then he continued. :: Pair off. Fundamental to your success is your ability to work in tandem with each other. Alone you will be strong, together you will be unstoppable. Do this now. :: With a wave of his hand, Baratos instructed those present to pair off, each to a separate area of the circle. While the tenor of his voice was distorted by the vocabulator in his helmet, the authority with which he commanded them was not diminished. Despite the late hour, the day had seemingly only just begun.

[member="Racosidae"] | [member="Eighth Guard"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Decima Fortan"]
[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Castor Ren"] | [member="Stephen Dracrowar"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Primat Ren"] | [member="Kaiah Nihl"] | [member="Tyrus Ren"]​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Changes were in the air, changes of which the Supreme Leader, the one who had so carefully constructed or perhaps reinvented the philosophy of the Ren. The one who had founded the very foundation of the First Order sought to rebirth his closest followers to follow his vision, loyally and obediently. With the blood that was dripping into the bowl. Kyrel perhaps took a lifelong vow, an oath that must be kept or his life would be forfeit. He understood what the Supreme Leader asked of them, and knew well personally what would come if his word was spoken out against. Staring into the eyes of the Supreme Leader, his form already showing signs of dark side corruption, bowed his head in respect for his leader.

The Praetorians were once again introduced to the Knights in attendance. Thoughts were in his mind of the one who he had faced in combat only days following the attack on Lothal. Recognizing the power they held as the closest to the Supreme Leader, the guards hand-picked and trained to guard Sieger Ren, even a warrior like Kyrel was could barely hold his own against one of them. Clearly, they outmatched most of the Ren within the room. One of them carefully stepped forth, instructing them that they were no restricted to their quarters for the evening. They would not be allowed to freely roam the halls of the Bastion in or out until they proved themselves worthy. Thoughts came back of his first day being inducted to the Order back on Skye.. It had carried a sense of nostalgia he had not felt in years.

With Kyrel nodding at the end recognizing that they would all be retrained in order to properly carry out Sieger's will. Walking out with a new ambition not to disappoint his oath, not to fail again, not to bring dishonor to the Ren. He found the room that was marked his quarters. He paused for a moment standing there as if memories came back. Many years he had not seen his old room, slowly stepping forward inside. He found the shelf filled with holograms and writings about the Force and the Archive of the Empire of old. He closed the door preparing for what tomorrow would bring...

When the next day had arrived, he found himself wearing not of his armor, but simple black garb added with weights underneath to test his strength, stamina, and mobility following behind the Praetorian Guard known as Barbatos. Following him across a thick jungle near the Path of Jagged stones that led to an open area of ground. Forming into the circle. They were all instructed to pair up with someone, yet who the Master would pair up with he had no idea. Scanning around the faces, if he did not approach someone will

@Barbatos @Kaiah Nihl [member="Marriskcal Lati"] [member="Stephen Dracrowar"] [member="Seto Du Couteau"] [member="Decima Fortan"] [member="Castor Ren"] [member="Tyrus Ren"] [member="Primat Ren"] [member="Racosidae"]

 

[Progflaw99]

"You. With me." A raised finger pointed directly at the Master of Ren. Baratos may have been a new figure to the Knights of Ren but he felt as if he knew them all. Days had been spent learning about each of them in the solitude of the Supreme Leader's presence. Memories. Documentation. Holo-film. He studied them each as he would study an enemy, an opponent he might face in the future. It was this that drove his desire to test the man. There was no doubt that Kyrel commanded great power, but it was also evident he lacked the proper discipline to properly harness it to the best of his potential. With time, with blood, that could change.

"You will spar until you are instructed to cease - or until one of you is unconscious. There are no exceptions." Taking a few paces to the side, Baratos gave his opponent a once over, hands retrieving the expanding staff at his waist. A dual sided electrostaff - telescoping by its appearance. For the time being the Praetorian only engaged one side of the elongated grip - a subtle crackle of energy sparking at its tip. "Hit me then, Master of Ren." he said, taunting the large man. Baratos was the smaller of the two, but as they would both know - size was only a piece of the equation.

[member="Kyrel Ren"]​