Populate Midnight Mass | DE Populate of Vortex

[Malva'ikh Dralidok]

…UNNATURAL
~the dream was now broken~

GEAR: In bio
TAG: Brutalis | Creuat | Kaleb Sunwalker | Prowler | Sinestra

Spoiler

VORTEX

A quick peak to the land of the living indicates that some are close to solving the ever-tempting puzzle of the Dark Gods. The twi newcomer looks so intense to the device, his stare battling with the iron will of the Dark Side. Is that approach simply too raw, too uncontrolled to win the heart of the divine? No one would know, not until it’s all settled in dust.

Another one, a brute of a creature, unexpectedly connect with the device with such a grace. He too was coming close to solving the device, yet I sensed in the Force that the twi is far too ahead for the monster to catch up with.

As for Kaleb, Prowler, and my sweet, sweet Sinestra, they are the least of my concerns. Some confused, others walking the line of insanity, their will are simply too weak to solve the device. Not blessed enough by the Force perhaps. Regardless, seems like a skill issue.

I must not let them distract me.

I see the lights that glows out of the device, the Force that I sense, the scent of fear and terror that it emits. That Phobis Device is mine. MINE.

Delving back to the land of the dreamers, I assumed back control of the scared little acolyte. Eyes switched instantaneously from a stare of fear and sorrow, to a longing beam of delight. Even in the land of the Gods I conquered the spark of anguish that managed to latch in me of a parasecond.

And you dare to question the Vessel of God?

If this happened in the past, or the future, or currently, in a different plane of dimension, or even the same one, I would bet my right arm that the acolyte would fall in line for another decade, maybe even two. They are still too weak-willed, too confused to pull a betrayal of a lifetime, an ascension of a Lord.

Yet I am the Nephilim, the breaker of fate, the HARBINGER of CHANGE. When the Force is flowing in my vein I ransacked the web weaved by the New Gods and the Old Ones, curse on their names. There is only the Force, and the Dark Side as its final form.

TEGU NUN KASH.

TEGU NUN KASH.

TEGU NUN KASH.

TEGU NUN KASH.

TEGU NUN KASH.

…

We’re here.

​

Tally:
ROUND 1: 8
ROUND 2: 3
ROUND 3: 13
ROUND 4: 9
ROUND 5: 17

 

[Kaleb Sunwalker]

Tags: Sinestra Creuat Prowler Brutalis Malva'ikh Dralidok


His will was starting to break. He could feel the fear flood through every fiber of his being to an overwhelming extent. Every part of him ached, begged to make it stop within his own mind. Who has the chance to wield such great power this monstrosity carried. Yellow eyes narrowed on the device, the device dug its mental claws within his mind. The voices whispered that he would break, that he would truly know what fear was. Kaleb shook his head. “N-NO! I won’t give in!” He tried to tell himself as he was fighting the all powerful waves from consuming him.

His muscles slashed, the fear warping into a terror that would wreck him physically. Gritting his teeth he could feel pain, pain as if his own body was pulling at himself. His eyes snapped shut as if to try to reject the mental bombardment. In his minds eye he could see shadows, faces of black silhouettes but glowing eyes, fangs. They were all wielding sabers in their hands to which Kaleb was now frantically looking across the room, for a moment he broke the gaze with the phobia device only for the hallucinations to cackle and taunt him. The shadows moved to consume him until all he could see was himself and the device. As if in a single moment time seemed to stand still.

Reality came crashing as he felt his mind to split apart. His hands moved at first towards his eyes, then to cover the rest of his head. His body fell back to the floor as he started to whisper out the words of the voices. “Weakling… Scum… Do not deserve mercy… Always remember… remember I am filth! Remember I am nothing!” He would say in some mad delusion.

His body tensed, sparked as he started to roll around the floor. The fear violently manifestation as if he was possessed. “No! No! Chains… M-Must break chains! Must have freedom! RELEASE ME!!!” Kaleb screamed out as he couldn’t take it any longer. Fear had broken Sunwalker and made him its puppet. His mind recoiled for he would never be the same, never like his Jedi self as he fell under the breaking of the Phobis device.
​

Round 1: 12
Round 2: 1
Round 3: 5
Round 4: 3
Round 5: 8

Total: 29

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | GALACTIC EMPEROR
TEMPLE OF THE SITH - AKAR TSIS

​

As the cultists brought forth Pietro, his bound form writhing in futile resistance, the Emperor rose from his throne with an effortless grace. His gaze fell upon Olorion Fossk who stood at the ready. The Sith'ari could see his eyes lit with anticipation, hand at the ready to spill the blood of the Jedi Master in what was a gaze of worth.. or was it appeasement?

Ever so briefly, the Dark Lord turned his attention to the newcomer Collector as they entered. Acknowledging them to this most sacred ceremony, "Welcome." A simple reply and yet so deep and detached. "A simple ceremony, but powerful to it's own ends." His eyes drifted back to the silhouette of his offspring.

"Unnecessary." Solipsis murmured, his voice a soft command that carried through the chamber, "Master Jade's time has not yet come, but soon, her use will be at an end."

Burning ember eyes bore into the Sith acolyte with a gaze devoid of emotion, his eyes drifted onward to the form of his enemy, the Ashlan priest. Sulfuric hate smoldered within their depths, a silent testament to the millennia-old conflict between the light and dark sides of the Force. To see his enemies one by one fall, was not a matter of satisfaction, but personal vindication of belief. He hated them, what they stood for, what they would do to continue the cycle that carried the broken galaxy on and on. The galaxy was a bloated half-corpse, the only cure for it was to be put out of it's misery and begin the cycle anew.. guided by a strong hand.

His hand. His image.

The Emperor betrayed no hint of remorse or mercy. With a subtle gesture, the Sith'ari signaled for Olorion to proceed with the sacrifice. Pietro Demici 's blood would flow, as he decreed. The waters of the once- Akar Kesh would forever be tainted once his blood touched upon the sacred waters, corrupting it whole. It would only take a swift hand, a steady act to ensure it now.

In the hallowed depths of the temple, the Church of the Dark Side stood in solemn vigil, their voices rising in a haunting chant that echoed through the chamber like a lamentation of the damned. Clad in dark robes that billowed in the flickering light, they swayed in unison, their movements synchronized with the rhythm of their whispered cries. Their voices, a symphony of reverence and devotion, filled the chamber with a sense of foreboding, each word a testament to their unwavering faith in the Dark Side. Spurred by the words of the shadow priest Detritus Ren , the cultists' chant grew louder, more fervent, as if calling forth the very essence of darkness itself.

The time was upon them, yet even in this moment, the Emperor had plans of his own brewing.

Today the Sith would remember well the golden rule of their order.

And..

He would track down the Four.. using Romi Jade as bait to lure them in.

The Sith'ari motioned his hand to Shannic Wulf and whispered aloud, "Divert patrols from the skies, allow any vessel to make safe port. I am expecting company."

​

 

[Onrai]

Tags: Derix Tirall Olorion Fossk Darth Vinaze Detritus Ren Cornelius Nibocaj Romi Jade Pietro Demici Darth Bellum Jogon Khamul Kryze Darth Immortuos Shannic Wulf Lord Letifer Spindle Darth Ptolemis Collector Lossa Aureus
Direct Tag: Lossa Aureus

It was time. The sacrifice was about to happen. Onrai moved about slowly in the room after having updated the Emperor, seeking to sense where the unusual Force emanation was coming from. She looked about, pondering before noticing a helmeted Sith cultist - one whose stomach seemed to stick out a bit more than expected beneath her - she guessed it was her - robes. The emanation seemed to be coming from them in question as she stepped over next to them, her eyes and visage never betraying the curiosity in her mind as she continued to focus on the inevitable - the death of the Ashlan cardinal and, to a degree, the Ashlan religion.

"And what have you come for?" The words seemed to have been whispered directly to Lossa. Onrai had no reason to actually say, do, or otherwise interfere with whatever she was here for, but perhaps it would be worth it to know exactly what it was this... oddity... was here for. Being present at such a perniciously corrupting ritual did have health complications, after all. Other than that, she would watch the ritual - and perhaps keep the unborn child safe from any particularly mutagenic effects. She could do that much, were the emanations that potent.

 

[Olorion Fossk]

Holding aloft the dagger, Its blade still kept hidden from sight. Tightly wrapped in a cloth. Skin was not to touch this weapon. It was one that could cause pain in a way that only few would understand. Yet, the eyes of my father told me all that I needed to do. All that was required of me. That this Ashlan Crusader, his former glory, his legacy, his life, will be ended today so that the Empire may prosper.

This aspect alone was not a new one to me. One upon which many Sith before have done. However for me, personally, it was a rite. A showing that I could, and will follow in the footsteps of my father. A large they may be, and the price being heavy upon my shoulders and head, one day, the crown he wore, the cloak of responsibility, and the aura of power he so easily wielded, would be mine. Its how all life in the Sith prospered. Growing fat with strength, so that the one who managed to defeat you, would become even more powerful than before. Yet, as a Sith'ari, that meant, I had a destiny to one day, become such the same.

His hand indicating to continue with this, I breathed deeply. Focusing myself as I pulled the tome from my side. Opening it to bookmarked page. Speaking first in the basic tongue.

"Pietro Demici, Scion of the Ashalan Crusaders, Cardinal to the Light, your teachings of the light, the Force, and its aspects have been condemned in the eyes of the Sith, The Maw, and to the Dark Empire. I stand before you to be your Judge, and should it be, executioner. Before me you have been sentenced with conspiring against the Sith, Aiding enemies of the State, and preaching falsehood gospels of the Force. For that, the punishment is death."

Closing the distance to stand before the man as he lay upon the dais. Preparation of his blood to be spilt upon it, and to continue the ritual. The tome hovering over him like the blade of a guillotine. Its words and passages sharper than any mortal blade. My words begin to echo in the chamber. The force amplifying them. Changing them into an unnatural tone. The Darkest of forces controlled my voice. They spoke for me. All that I was, all that I am, was to become this. The Executioner of the Sith'ari!

N̷̩̄u̷̠̒ ̶̧̊ḋ̷̩o̴̰͝r̸̭̂y̸̰̆u̷͈̅m̸̫̑i̸̱̔ ̵̑ͅw̸͍͊ő̸̘ŝ̷͈ ̵̯͌r̵̙̿i̶̥̅ ̶͈̀j̴̬̈́ȋ̴͕ņ̶̇ȧ̸̻'̷̼͝t̸͈̍i̵̙͛ṡ̶͇
​

The words came out with force. I could feel them scratching my throat. Eating into the cords. Slowly starting to burn as I continued reading from the book in my hands.

Ṛ̵̓ȋ̷͕ ̴̜̈́t̵͓̔z̴̥̚i̵̟͆ȓ̶ͅj̷͇͐i̵̪̕ ̶̤̒ĥ̶̺ã̷͚d̵̫̍z̷̩͝ǔ̵̳s̴͓͌k̷̤̍a̸͍̿,̴͇̚ ̴̹̿r̶̹̄i̵̥͠ ̵̝̌m̶̞̑i̵̞̍d̵̨̑w̷̞͝ḁ̷͝n̴̯͝ ̵͈͐i̸̳͐w̶̬͒ ̷̨̀r̵̬̆í̶̩ ̵͓͝d̴̥̔r̷̻͛i̵̻̿j̴̖͒a̶̕͜d̷̰̈́a̷̢̛.̸̗̎ ̵͗ͅA̷̠͝j̶̘̓i̷͓͌ ̴̤̉k̴̝͝i̶̬̇ ̴͖̓d̸͉͗ȍ̶͍ŕ̴̩y̷̛̳u̵̪͆m̸͙̈i̶͕̽.̸̠̈​

The burning grew. A fire within my soul. My eyes began to burn. I could feel as if the shadowed flames were consuming me as I performed this. My vision grew bright. the glowed at first this sickly yellow. A consuming essence of my body.

S̶̺͋o̴͇͘s̶͇͌û̴̯̑t̴̮̏a̸̤͑r̸͖͘ī̷͖ ̸͉̆ḁ̸͐n̵̠͐ ̸̟́j̸̳̎'̷̡̏u̸̮͋s̴̙̕ ̷̳͂r̸̜͆ḭ̵͗ ̸̪̋n̵̻̕a̴̖̒t̴̹̔u̸͙͒r̸̹̍a̶͍̓ ̶͚̑i̸̫͌w̶̢̉ ̶̩̓s̷̹̑ḯ̸̗s̸̞̈́ ̴̳̕m̴̥̔i̵͔̓ḳ̴̌n̶̝͋.̸̙̈ ̶̯̋​

My voice grew louder. Stronger. Its echo only deepened. Multiple voices echoed even when I was the only voice that spoke. Souls of others joined. It labored in tone, and vigor. The yellow halos of light upon the man's face soon grew to an orange, and as I spoke the final words of the rite, they glowed a deep red. Matching the blood of the man as I finished.

S̴̟̲̘̯̖̙͆͐̄͂o̶͖̩̐̃̀̀̐̊̊̊̌̚s̸̩̖̩͈̫͚̟͙̍̎͗̎̀̈̍̏̀̚ư̴͚̺͇̦̲̟̜̂̽͆̿̐̎t̸̹̰̯̘͚͍̬̙̬̎͂̒̃͑̓á̶̠͈͙̩̩̑̈́̚͜ŗ̸̺͚̺̟̝̖̇͌̅͂͜i̶̡̮͔͆̒̒̔͘͠ ̷̧̺̹̩̤͎̪͌́̐̈̓̓̇̾̊̿j̶̛̗̬͑̑̏͊̚i̷̢͉͈̠̖̭̞͖͔͆̎̌͒́ͅs̴̡̜͕͑ö̷̮̯́͌͊̒̍͝͝ ̶̡͎͔̮̪͚͇̦͌̉͐̑͂̔̎͌͘͜͝ͅa̸̢̘̖̤̞̲̲̒̈̓ͅr̸̨̟̯̮̤̻̥̣̍́i̷̗̍͑͒̄̏͝k̴̨̬͍̥̓̈͜ͅa̸̝̪̗̟̙̍̓̇̾̀̋͌,̴̡̻̤͔̗͎̳̳͉̀̉̅̽͗͘͠ ̴̗̯̼̣͖̭̥͂̒͌͛̍̓j̵͚̗̮̖̫͂i̶̢̬͎̭̱̦͖̅̀̽̽̊͊̒͘͝ͅs̴̛̛̘͈̞̤͒̈́̀́̔ö̴̳̥͔͉̪̤͎̇͂̔ ̴̙̝̟͉̗͎̆́͑̾̂̿̅̚͝k̷̛̦̤͎͚̺̮͉̉̀̄̽͌͛ă̷̢̺͇̦͓̲͈̻̖̐̅͗̈́̃͐́́͝t̶̛̼̊̔͊͘̚̕ȁ̶̼̍͑̇͋͑͛̈́,̵̢̡̯͚̖͙̳͈̅̋̒̌̾̂̑̚͜ ̴̡̡̪̤̙́̈́̑̈́̑̈̚j̵̡̬̜̳̦͙͓̰̿͠i̸͙̜̜̗̜̙͔̜̽̅̄̐̾̑ͅs̶̡̡͇͍̜̻͓̹̈́̃̆̄́́̚ͅỏ̶̭̹̳̯̞̒͌̀̃̐͜͝͠ ̷̢̺̱͊a̷̛͕̪̎͊͌̾̃̀̚͘ş̷̫͖̙̈́̐̾͆͝á̶͙̮͉͈̪͙̖͇͈͍̅r̶̨͎͇̜͚̮̞̘̀́̚̕͝s̸͇͚̑̀̊͆͂̆̍̉͐i̸̛̻̬̭̻͖͛͛͋̈́̔͑͝ͅ,̶̛̼̺̃̇̓͛̎͛́͝ ̶͕͎̥͕̀̀̇̇́͘Z̶̧̘͎̒̑̚͠i̵̞̠̜̞̘͑ͅ,̶̡̟́̅̓͝͠ ̵̧͈͕͎̉͒͗̾͋̅̏t̷̡̖̻̚ú̷͖ţ̴̧̢̨̧̙̤̣͂́͗̑͂́̋̕̕͜ͅi̴̢̬̪̯̰͇̇̏͑̀̏̈̊ ̶̢̪̲̫̖̪̠͎́́̍̈́̂͝͝a̷̳̼̒̓̏̃̏͂͝͝n̸̟̩̪͖̞͆̀̓͑̕͠ ̶͈̈̈́̎͋t̴̡̞̙̠̗̭̬̻̿̀̐͛ͅa̷̧̳̠̐͋ŭ̴̬̗̜͓͖̱͑̾͆z̶̰͆̀̆̋̽̓͘,̶͚̓̑̃̈́̏̇̚͝ ̸̨̥͓̥̱̯̝͌̚t̵̊͛͜ù̴̡̧̧̨͚̞̺̯̫̀r̸̖̃̿̃̒̓͒̈́͜ǘ̸̢̩̙̩̫̭̾k̵͚̤͔̪̺̯͆̀ ̶̳̙̥͍̲͙̓́̒̿̏͌̕r̸̢̫̠̯̖̘͓̺̦͖͑́̃i̴̛̳̰̟̪m̸̻̉͐́́̐́́͜ ̶̧̟͕̣̫͇̽̂͜͜ͅi̷̢͈̍̔̍̑͒̓͜s̶̠̲̬̹̫̟͑̍͋̿̉ ̶̨̰̬̯͓̭̲̻̏̀͒̓̊̉͛͌͆s̷̛͉̅̋̈́͗̕͝͝ĭ̴̛̬̯͈͊̏̈́̏͜s̴͇͖̣̅ ̶̧͎̥͕͚̞̮̭̊͂͋̈̄͑̚̚d̷͓͎̦̙̍̒̏͒͜i̵̠̎͋̏͛d̵̰͐͐͐̀͆͊̌ũ̷̡̠̇̉͑̓s̴͍̭̥̞̠̊̋̀̋̇́͗́͜i̸̢̺͕̝̫̘̠͓̬̊̊͛͗̏̐̇.̶̫̖̮͎̘͇̯͙̆͑̾̃̀̽͠​

The tome dropped. Falling to the ground, but not quite. it floated mere inches from the floor. As if it had been held by someone. Caught by the life of the room. Its power continued to flow through me as I drew the Dagger. A Poisoned Dagger. An Oath Dagger. The handle of the blade firmly in my grasp. Both hands holding it aloft in the air. Directly over his chest, I knew where I needed to hit, yet it all happened on its own. The flash of the onyx dagger came down on his chest cavity. The force pushing into it. Feeling the blade pulsating. It had struck the heart cleanly. Slipping between the ribs, and just past the lungs. Yet it was not done.

Both hands holding it, Twisted the blade, then folded down towards the man's chest and garments. The blade snapped. It was built to do just that. To be punctured into the skin, and then broken so that it would cause so much pain. Deveronian Blood-Gem, and infused with the Darkness of the Force, It was a sacrificial dagger to cause anyone to turn to the darkness should they happen to survive.

However, Pietro would not. For it was his time. And by my hand, he shall perish.


Pietro Demici Romi Jade Darth Solipsis Darth Ptolemis Darth Bellum Darth Immortuos Onrai Detritus Ren Shannic Wulf Collector Vora Kaar

 

[Creuat]

The voices and the cackling started to fade away, no longer tormented by his emotions and fearful events in his life as his anger outgrew his fear and countered the dark energy of the Phobis Device. He could feel the power surging through his body and all of it flowing into his hand like a channel of rivers all intersecting into one body of water. The power made his multiple hearts racing with glee as if he was getting a high from having access to this newfound conduit of energy.

He stood up and walked to the artifact with a hand outstretched to reach the the device. The lighting was no longer blinding and it started to dim with every step he made towards it until his hand touched atop the peak of the pyramid.

He was no longer a servant to fear, but rather he its master.

Creuat looked with greed to his prize, his chest soaring with pride in his victory. He then looked at his fellow Elite, his eyes staring at the husk of Kaleb Sunwalker as the man quivered on the floor with random words blurting out without meaning.

Then his eyes went to Sinestra with a scorn. He still remembered the hand he took from her when they clashed and yearned for revenge. Now he saw this as his opportunity to enact it.

“Sinestra,” his lips then turned into a sinister smile.

“You are weak,” then accessed the power of the Phobis Device to afflict not just her but the others for a few seconds to avoid driving them to insanity save for Kaleb.

“I will see to that the Emperor knows of your failures,” he addressed to them all, and then making a turn to head to the doorway to leave the tombs of Akar Tsis.

Sinestra | Brutalis | Prowler | Malva'ikh Dralidok | Kaleb Sunwalker​

 

[Prowler]

Tags: Creuat Sinestra Kaleb Sunwalker Brutalis Malva'ikh Dralidok
​

The air was thick with anticipation, heavy with the looming presence of fear and crackling with the riveting sense of impending doom. Prowler's gaseous alien shifted forms rapidly and hovered adjacent to the center. Already trembling with instability. His translucent form, normally fluid and graceful, now twisted and contorted, his tendrils of gaseous substance writhing as if trying to escape some unseen torment. Almost as if his body was able to comprehend what was to come before his dazed mind could.

Then the concentrated blast of Fear and lightning struck. It was as if a thousand daggers pierced his very essence. His psychic being recoiled, overwhelmed by the intensity of the assault. Prowler had faced mental strains before and the fear of the Phobis Device, but this was different. The fear he spent so much time trying to master was nothing more than a inkling of the Phobis Devices power. Nothing had prepared him for this concentrated onslaught. Exhausted from his previous battles against fear, his defenses were already weakened, He was vulnerable to the merciless assault in full and helpless to stop it. With each passing moment, the Filar-Nitzans gaseous form swirled and convulsed, unable to find respite from relentless torment. His tendrils stretched and twisted in a desperate attempt to escape the agony consuming him, but there was no escape. Shrieks of inhuman anguish echoed through the chamber, mixing with the crackle of electricity and the oppressive weight of fear.

Mercy was a foreign concept with this lot, The Darkside Elite. Im going to die here in front of all these idiots. Prowler's cries for relief fell were on deaf ears, his pleas drowned out by a cacophony of his own suffering. As the psychic agony reached its crescendo, something within Prowler snapped. His cries of pain morphed into twisted laughter, a manic sound that echoed off the walls of the chamber. In that moment, the last vestiges of Prowler's sanity seemed to evaporate, reduced to mere atoms scattered across the abyss that was the Darkside. So this is what the Darkside feels like...

​

His form contorted one final time, like a dance of madness, before finally dissipating into a still gray smoke on the floor. A smoke that carried now two husked white eyes that peered up at the ceiling in silence.

 

[Darth Maledictio]

Shadow Emperor, Leader of the Spear, Shadow Dragon

Information

Objective: To attend the meeting
Location: Akar Tsis, Tython
Equipment: Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Darth Solipsis | Onrai | Jogon | Derix Tirall | Darth Vinaze | Olorion Fossk | Cornelius Nibocaj | Detritus Ren | Romi Jade | Pietro Demici | Darth Bellum | Khamul Kryze | Darth Immortuos | Shannic Wulf | Lord Letifer | Spindle | Darth Ptolemis | Lossa Aureus | Collector | Briana Sal-Soren | Vora Kaar | Open

<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Curse continued to stand in the background, in the shadows, and watched from there. The tension grew as the words of the ritual grew louder and louder. But apart from that, not much has happened so far. The man still felt the same disturbance in the Force as before, but there was no progress on that front. Curse knew full well that in a situation like this, a huge show was needed where someone important died, because most Sith are bloodthirsty and enjoy it. For the man, these were no fun. He was always different; he thought ahead. If he had had a say, Curse would have used Pietro Demici .

Turning him over to the Dark Side would have been more expedient, as the old cardinal is quite powerful and influential. He is the head of the Followers of Ashla and has close ties to the Avatars of Ashla. It would have been far more expedient to use him against them and the Ashlan Remnants, or even the Jedi. Such a person would be powerful and a great trump card. So in the man's eyes it was an incredible waste. But everyone was different, and the man had no doubt that the Emperor was also planning for the long term and had his own reasons and knew why the dear old Cardinal was being killed.

The killing itself and the blood didn't bother the man, as Curse had killed countless times when it was necessary. For a moment he wondered if this was some sort of test to see how the Sith would react to what was happening here? To see who would enjoy this sacrifice, or the Cardinal's death? The man did not know the answer to that question, although it seemed that the Jedi, Romi Jade , would not be executed at the same time. Or rather, what else was the important thing that had brought them here? The execution wasn't that important to the man, it was just the show, it could have been broadcast. So something else was planned.

The good question was what. While he thought about it, he looked again at the crowd, but there was still nothing of interest. So, Curse turned his head back to the podium where the Emperor and his inner circle were. He would have skipped the execution; he was interested in the actual announcement and reason why they were here...

He hoped… he was confident that this would also be revealed soon.

 

[Darth Immortuos]

Bellum spoke as he held his gaze upon Solipsis to answer the Sith beside him, " He is as much as Sith'ari to me as he is to you. But you should know that such titles are of little consequence, nor do they hold any significant meaning to me. If that is how you thought of me then perhaps you knew even less of me than you believed. " As Immortuous continued on he'd respond in prompt and simple terms as they lamented on the familiarity of the scene before them. " I have no qualms with this lot, so long as it is not the same drivel that the Sith Empire of old constantly fed itself. If it ever comes to such a pitiful conclusion, then I will simply dismantle them the same way I did with Carnifex. "" Even those that follow whom they believe to be a God can be turned to wield blades against them when they realize that they are flawed and mortal. They can be made to bleed like their followers when they have their weakness exposed. " Bellum fondly recounted the memory of how the Sith Empire's downfall began with simply motivating a sole individual to instigate civil war. It only took one wolf among sheep to lead to a slaughter, and Irveric Tavlar turned out to be one of the most magnificent wolves that Bellum had created. His gaze shifted to the sacrificial lambs as Immortuous proceeded to ask whether or not he had ever fought Romi Jade ," I have not. But I'm sure she was - I've heard tales of her abilities. Pity that it will not be a future that comes to pass... "

And here I would of thought that someone akin to Darth Bellum would of crossed paths with the likes of a Romi Jade before. How interesting.

" Know you? I sparingly knew you in life. I have the blessing of further getting to know you in death. You are known by your actions and deeds. Something that you hide rather diligently despite my... expanded consciousness. Enlighten me Bellum, Who do you say you are?" The Lord of Decay watched as Olorion Fossk chanted and prepared his strike into Pietro Demici . I could use the Clerics body for my services after the ceremony is complete. His knowledge and skill can still be used. Yesss. Immortuos remained silent as Bellum continued on about familiar sith history. Instead the Lord of Decay parted the left side of his robe and nudged a infected rodian out into the open with a low guttural groan. The infected rodian's condition was degraded and was in worse shape than its master in terms of longevity but it played a purpose. Grabbing the infected minion by its shoulder Immortuos looked down at it and then his eyes darted over to the countless throngs of sith. " Go." It was a single verbal command and it was enough for the infected minion to understand. With a skittering hunched crawl it disappeared into the crowds.

" You dont strike me as a fool. Yet you act as if you can see what is to come." He scoffed and glanced at Bellum briefly before letting his gaze set into a fog. It was as if Immortuos was staring far into the distance, it was from this place he spoke again. " Hear me and observe her. Obser....them...all."

Tags: Darth Bellum ​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | GALACTIC EMPEROR
TEMPLE OF THE SITH - AKAR TSIS

New Sith Order
Darth Ptolemis | Darth Vinaze | Darth Apophion | Darth Howl | Darth Bellum | Khamul Kryze | Darth Mensis | Jogon | Saul Laverne | Talon Draven | Darth Immortuos | Darth Kalyptos | Lord Letifer | Spindle | Maestus | Onrai | Alicia Drey | Olorion Fossk | Donne Toulemonde | Darth Kinrath | Tarus Undara | Kali'ka

Church of the Dark Side
Derix Tirall | Shannic Wulf | Minister Janus Vipsanius | Agathon Kell

​

As the blood of the Ashlan Jedi Master spilled upon the sacred pool at the center of the chamber, a palpable darkness descended upon the temple, suffusing the air with a sense of foreboding. The waters of the pool, once clear and pristine, began to churn and bubble as the tainted blood mingled with its depths, corrupting it into a dark, viscous liquid that bleached the waters black. A deep, guttural roar echoed through the chamber as the entire temple shook with the force of the corruption, the very foundations of Akar Tsis trembling beneath the weight of the sacrilege. Outside, the clouds shifted and turned in turmoil, reflecting the disturbance in the Force as balance was undone.

Within the chamber, the empyrean cast a shuttering wave of Pietro Demici 's last moments through the air like a shockwave, reverberating through the souls of all those who could touch upon the Force. The nexus, just like any Kyber crystal in the hand of a Sith, bled, its essence tainted by the darkness that now seeped into every corner of the temple. And then, as swiftly as it had begun, it was over. Olorion Fossk , his task complete,would be bathed in the eerie glow of the corrupted waters. With a sense of grim satisfaction, the Sith'ari rose from his throne and stepped forward, as he knew that the inner sanctum of the New Sith had been consecrated, forever marking it as the Temple of the Sith, Akar Tsis.

In the aftermath of the ritual, a heavy silence descended upon the chamber. Amidst the swirling currents of dark energy, the Emperor stood as a silent sentinel, basking in the moment. A finality that many in the chamber would not understand, a victory over those who had defeated him in the Old War.

"You have done well." The Dark Lord praised aloud.

"Can you feel it? The pull of the Dark. The essence of the it faintly feeding each and every one of you? Nourishing your bodies."

His face scrunched into a frown.

"But it could of been so much more. Undiluted, without share."

The Sith'ari, with haste, raised his hand high into the air and pulled down with a savage throw. Fresh stone and steel fell from the ceiling, crashing onto the floor below. His eyes burned with fiery embers, hatred made manifest.

"In my absence, many of you have grown weak. Numerous. Lacking conviction, lacking code."

He lifted his hand and dropped his long cloak that fluttered onto the floor. Crimson sparks flickering in his hands.

"The weak must be purged. ONLY THE STRONG may remain."

​

 

[Collector]

Darth Solipsis​

"Simple, yes," the lavender one agreed, head tilting to the side in curious contemplation. "Just how powerful remains to be seen. I, for one, have high hopes." The Collector had seen many such rituals attempted, had played divine witness to spectacular triumphs and even more delectable flops. One perhaps a bit more involved in galactic affairs would've gawked at the barbarity of it all.

He was not disappointed, crimson eyes gleaming with delight as an even deeper crimson spilled into the chamber's centerpiece. A shudder ran down his spine as darkness ran rampant, if only for a moment. The horned merchant's fingers had the slightest of tremors to them as they twisted the head of one of the many rings lining his fingers, the alchemized prongs releasing the center jewel. It had been set shallower than the ring would've suggested, serving as a stopper just as much as it did a showpiece. With a portion of that essence sinking into the ring, the Collector twisted the jewel back into place. A little boost for later, and a well-timed one at that. His stock had noticeably thinned out over more recent years, something he would have to rectify.

The Collector graciously sidestepped away from the Emperor's path from the throne, the fluid motion not without the subtle ring of bells tied to his coat. Anticipation pulled at the base of his skull as the collection of Sith were addressed. There was always a catch to such speeches, the proverbial ball dropping with this particular speech drawing forth a short chuckle. He stepped forward once more, taking a fresh interest in the madness set to unfold. From his greatcoat, the purple man withdrew a flask, unscrewing the cap with all the nonchalance of someone watching a game from the VIP box. He took a swig of its contents, holding the flask casually half in offering to the Sith Emperor (though not without making note of the sparks of his hands), half just keeping it on standby.

"And so the pin drops. How curious a turn. One has to wonder if there's something larger at play," he murmured, casting a curious gaze at Solipsis.

 

[Darth Bellum]

BELLUM CONTRA OMNES
[ Theme ]

| Location | Akar Tsis, Temple​

| Purpose | Slaughter​

​

Bellum remained silent when prompted with a question that Immortuous had asked, hoping to glean more from the resurrected Sith Lord. The simple truth was that he was the monster that the galaxy had made him to be. Even in life, and as a child no less, he was feared and treated as a monstrosity, simply for being different among his kin. Their fear was spurred by the simple notion that his difference would make him stronger than the rest of them; and it was true - he could grow without limit if allowed to, but had he been treated like the rest of his people, his strength would have only grown to serve his clan. But they imprisoned him and made a monster of him, to which they paid in blood when he had finally been unleashed.​

​

Centuries later he had become the Sith that the Galaxy as it was had come to know, further elevating his power and influence - but his goal still remained the same; to be the beast they had made him to be. They would know his suffering, his anguish, his hatred - his desire to hunt the strong to satiate his hunger for not war as he had led countless to believe; but to simply force everyone else to know and live the life he had been made to live, to create monsters and wolves that would tear each others throats out till naught remained but the victor. The sole survivor that would finally be able to embrace peace and solitude amongst a mountain of corpses.​

​

Thrice born, twice slain - His conception and birth into a tormented Galaxy and the death of any normalcy he may have obtained in youth. The second, his renewal as a Sith and his death at the hands of Irveric Tavlar, and finally his rebirth as the spirit of war. War is all he had known throughout his life, nothing but survival of the fittest - the law that dictates all life and the law that he upheld.​

​

Bellum finally deigned to answer the Lord of Decay at his side as he promptly spoke to his comment of what was to come. The answer was simple, and came in a single word uttered by Bellum, his voice speaking in a myriad of hushed whispers that seemed to be an echo of a multitude of voices speaking in unison - the answer of what was to come. The answer that came to all that live and ever lived. It was a simple and absolute truth.​

​

​

" Death... "​

​

His answer was punctuated by the sudden appearance of Fellsong that materialized from seemingly nothing as it pierced the chest of a Sith who had attempted to strike Bellum down from behind as the room began to erupt into a scene of slaughter and chaos, with Sith turning on one another at the behest of Darth Solipsis 's call to cull the weak - a familiar call that Bellum knew and heeded all too well. Fellsong's voice whispered in Bellum's mind, droning a single desire - " Hunger ". His head shifted uninterested to the side as he watched Darth Immortuos go about their business, his fingers grasping the hilt of the blade as it rapidly drained the essence of the Sith foolish enough to try and strike down Bellum.​

​

Bellum abruptly ripped the large claymore from the chest of the deceased as their corpse was unceremoniously tossed forward, desiccated and devoid of any essence as Bellum effortlessly swung and rested the edge of Fellsong against his shoulder, sharing his telepathic thoughts to the Sith Lord's spirit that resided in the hilt. " And feed you shall old friend... Drink your fill and consume Fellsong. " His hollow gaze fell upon the Sith present, curious to see if any would challenge the Lord of War - he himself would find some entertainment in the spectacle at hand, and so those presents will indulge his cold, dead heart.​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Location: Temple Of The Sith - Akar Tsis
Equipment: Jumpsuit and Armor
Accessories: Bracelet, Echo Stone
Weapons: Lossa's Saber, Turmoil Saber, Concealed Blaster, Nasty-Stabby
Tools: Fusioncutter
Ship: The Zipper
Tags: Romi Jade Darth Solipsis

The ominous overtone of the whole situation wasn't lost on her even being within the depths of her emotions. A sparce second of annoyance at the contact between herself and Briana that was little more than a there and gone reminder as Lossa let herself settle towards the back of the assembled robed beings.

Shifting on her feet as the macabre ceremony moved forward.

Beneath her helmet and hidden from view, the slight mental command to her helmet systems to begin recording the whole thing happened just moments before something whispered in her ear. The added systems inside of her gear didn't help her determine the origin. Even with the added camera that provided a scrolling view of those figures surrounding her without so much as a twitch. Betraying herself now would have her ending up as part of the ritual at worst. At best trying to beat a hasty exit with every darksider breathing down what could be only be called an, 'eventful rescue'.

None had moved around her, fixated on the altar and it's proceedings with awe struck fascination. And naught seemed out of place aside from all those present for this cursed event.

Even feeling successful at infiltrating this gathering wasn't allowed it seemed. Irritation bubbling at the perceived slight of failure to blend in. She'd caught the eye of someone far more keen than she'd imagined, and that no doubt meant that both she and Briana had been allowed to remain rather than truly hidden from notice. The icon to record the event before her gleamed in the corner of her helmet, camera in her visor adjusting to focus on Pietro as Lossa spoke under her breath.

"Just popping in. Nothing exciting." Barely above a whisper inside of her helmet. Thankful she remembered to shut off the speaker system this time. While it was as much as she was willing to tell an unknown, it was already too much for her to feel comfortable.

She watched in silence as the ritual unfolded before them all. Blood spilled and fouled the place. The presence of the Nexus disturbed as the part of her that yearned for this comfort relished the feeling of being allowed to witness such a thing.

Her rational mind reeling at what she had witnessed. What she had felt and how deeply it resonated with her.

But a conversation to be had when they were away from this place and safety was an assured thing.

A mental nudge to Briana Sal-Soren when the mention of the weak being purged rumbled across the gathered. The connection to her emotions wavering as the notion of fighting a whole room of darksiders freshly empowered and hungry for approval disrupted her mental state. The first to shed blood, a lumbering giant with a skull face, kicked off the event. Those around her beginning to either panic or relish the chance to color the room with the result of their grudges.

Maneuvering away from the gathering further with a few choice strikes that put distance on her side as if she were chasing a target. Tossing one idiot aside only to dissappear from sight and wait for Briana to join her.

EXIT POST​

 

[Onrai]

Tags: Derix Tirall Olorion Fossk Darth Vinaze Detritus Ren Cornelius Nibocaj Romi Jade Darth Bellum Jogon Khamul Kryze Darth Immortuos Shannic Wulf Lord Letifer Spindle Darth Ptolemis Collector Lossa Aureus
Direct Tag(s): Lossa Aureus

"We will talk later. You're welcome." The woman's words once more a direct verbal communication to Lossa and Lossa alone, with no use of anything. Onrai paused as Solipsis spoke, listening to the words he had uttered. With Pietro's blood staining the waters of the pool, the Force Nexus of the temple was tainted, and as a being of the Anti-Force, she supped on it as much as any other did, perhaps even more given her circumstances.

Ah, there it was. The sign of displeasure. She knew exactly what it was this was going to lead to. This wasn't her first Sith purge rodeo, and she was reasonably sure it wouldn't be her last, but clearly Solipsis had decided now of all times would be a good opportunity to cull the Sith. Onrai personally disagreed with the option - and was fortunate enough that none of her soldiery were here - but she fully expected, as he spoke, to see people turn on each other. Maybe someone would duel with the Emperor himself. Maybe some of the Sith around her would slaughter each other. For now, she stood unarmed but fully aware of everything around her, deeply immersed in the environment. The enigmatic woman in disguise toddled off, and as expected, her disappearance into the bowels of the complex was swift.

She looked around, finding the set of circumstances quite familiar to a time among the One Sith. So it was that she decided only four words were appropriate to the situation at hand, given what was going on around her.

"Touch me, and die."

 

[Darth Immortuos]

"But it could of been so much more. Undiluted, without share."

The Sith'ari, with haste, raised his hand high into the air and pulled down with a savage throw. Fresh stone and steel fell from the ceiling, crashing onto the floor below. His eyes burned with fiery embers, hatred made manifest.

"In my absence, many of you have grown weak. Numerous. Lacking conviction, lacking code."

He lifted his hand and dropped his long cloak that fluttered onto the floor. Crimson sparks flickering in his hands.

"The weak must be purged. ONLY THE STRONG may remain."

Oh? What is this!? A strange hunger began to arise from within Immortuos as the Sith'Ari himself made the first blow in word and deed to cull his own flock of sheep. Perhaps I was wrong about this man. Perhaphs this was what he meant all along when he answered with the word ...victory. The Lord of Decay watched with a sick delight as sith and other force users devolved into pure instinct. He embraced the chaos and sucked it all in, feeding off the rooms darker emotions, Basking in it and letting the metaphysical essence lather his withered being. It empowered him.

In the midst of it all his eyes even caught a glance at Darth Bellum joining the fray and ending the life of a robed sith that had the arrogance to approach the Lord of Eternal Conflict. In the end Bellum had indeed answered the question that was asked and he too did so in action and word. This was the way of the sith. Deception, betrayal and malevolence. Again the the hunger within Immortuos arose but unlike before it was not the call of the darkside. It was the Sickness. Thick black fluid began to drip and pour from his toothy maw, It ran down his robes and spilled onto the floor. Now is the time. Make your move! The grin on Immortuos's face grew wider than what was conceivable. Taking up most his face with a sadistic shovel head smile. Two beady red eyes scouted across the room searching for a specific someone and they stopped on Olorion Fossk .

What came next was no movement or spoken word, just raw dominance and ill intent. Qazoi Kyantuska. Like a psychic disease the telepathic onslaught of a host of infected consciousnesses were directed to the young acolyte. Each one clawing for direct control to carry out Darth Immortuos's will with a single preternatural directive. << " KILL THE SITH'ARI! NOW!">>

Once the command was executed then Immortuos would reign back his control and move in. He doubted the boy would stand a chance against the Sith'Ari but every pawn had their use in his games.

Tags: Darth Bellum Darth Solipsis Olorion Fossk Onrai Darth Vinaze ​

 

[Olorion Fossk]

I had done well. I did what was required of me. I could feel the energy in the room deepen. A well of the force which I fed upon like any other Sith should. Reveling in the kill. The sacrifice. Having placed the handle of the broken dagger upon the bed which the dying body of the Cardinal lay. My face turned to my father. His words echoing his praise. The first praise I have earned in a long time. It felt... good. So delicious. I wanted all of it and more. Even he could feel the Nexus of the force shift. Not being that of purity, but that of our own. Our darkness. Our control. OUR POWER. It was that power I drew upon. To feel it at my fingertips. Drawing the life from the man who was before me. Feeling his own strength empower my own. It was delectable.

Yet, as I stood there, My father called for all to become strong. To become Sith. A sneer came to my face. Prepared for this. Aching for this like a lustful desire. Without hesitation, the Saber pike came out from my robes. The crimson blade flashing as I cleaved into the minister of the Church. He stood beside me for the Sacrifice, and now he too, will have his blood spilt along with the Cardinal.

My eyes turned to a new prize though. Romi Jade Her frame ever so wishing for me to once more, bring power to the darkness. To end her life so that I may fulfill my fathers desire akin to my own. Yet I felt something grab me. A voice. A hand. I shuddered. My form moving on its own. Yellowed, hallowed eyes turning instead, back to my father. A single sentence raced through my mind. I... No. I fought. I cannot do that. I won't.

I have to. I will. I will take his power. Just like all Sith before him. I will cherish his life, as it perishes in my hands.

The saber leveled to my father. Dashing with a speed to match a blur. Blinking would show my body from one place, to barely a foot away from the man. In the air, the saber being swung at my own father. Not of my own will. No. I can't fight my father. He was my savior. My captain. Yet so did my blade go for his throat.

Darth Immortuos Darth Bellum Onrai Darth Solipsis

 

[Pietro Demici]

Pietro Demici: Cardinal of Ashla

Tags: Darth Solipsis , Darth Vinaze , Derix Tirall , Cornelius Nibocaj , Olorion Fossk , Onrai

Light of Ashla

There was little to be done as the dagger came crashing down, plunging deep into the Cardinal's broken body. The pain... so much pain... yet, somehow, the Cardinal couldn't muster even the faintest of screams. Perhaps he simply had nothing left to give, no agony left to share with his captors, save for the faded fire in his eyes.

His mind began to wander as a familiar place came into view, his vision twisting and distorting until he felt that he was no longer in the accursed halls of his enemies. Instead he was greeted by tall pillars of stone, with beautiful plants adorning the walkways... his home. It had been years since Pietro had been to Serenno, and yet there he was, gazing upon his ancestral home all the same. The pull for him to enter through the door was strong, yet as he stepped forth, his body failed him, causing him to fall to a knee. Just as he wished to resign himself to the end, however, a sweet, soft voice brought his attention to the path ahead.

"Father... do you need help?"

Cesare... his son... yet, he came to him as a child, not more than ten years old. This couldn't be, he would think to himself. His son was a man now, far from the wide-eyed, innocent boy before him. Yet this seemed right somehow. His wife and son hadn't spoken to him in years, yet in this moment it was almost as if he had never left. Never answered the call. Never led countless lives in a cause that he was no longer sure of. Tears welled from his eyes, and with a feeble smile, he allowed his son to help him up.

Together they slowly approached the door, yet as it opened, Pietro was only greeted by darkness.

"Wha... what is this?"

A sudden shove and he found himself falling down into the eternal black, the light fading quickly around him as he landed in the bowels of the void with a resounding thud. His body ached with pain, as if a hundred more daggers stabbed into his body, just as the one Olorion had plunged into him moments ago.

There he remained in darkness for what seemed an eternity, waiting for his own inner light to fade. Flashes of the past cascaded in front of him, as if a series of holoprojections had been put on repeat. The battles... the sermons... every good and bad thing he had ever done, sent across an endless sea of black in an instant. He clutched his body where the blow from Isla had almost ended him, and cursed at the thought that he wasn't at least worthy of dying at the hand of a friend. Well... at least it would be over...

As he closed his eyes, a familiar warmth came over him, and for the first time since his capture, Pietro felt at peace. Perhaps he wasn't alone after all, or perhaps he had simply accepted the grim fate that had befallen him.

As his thoughts drifted further and further away, all those that watched his brutal murder would see is a look of tranquility on his face, the look of a troubled soul that somehow found peace. His body slumped to the floor, the fire in his eyes finally doused for good.

Pietro Demici, Cardinal of the Ashlan Crusade and the Voice of the holy Light was no more.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Location: Akar Tsis.

[Atmosphere]

The glass splintered. By the hand of Olorion Fossk , the execution was done. The dagger fell and broke the Cardinal Pietro Demici ’s spirit to a million pieces, and floating along the waves of the unholy chanting, this profane sensation washed over all those gathered here. The Ashlan passed with not a even a sound left in him. The Blasphemer breathed it in, sensing the inexorable march of the coming moment. He slowly began shifting backwards, away from the throne… As the first drops from the fresh corpse hit the cold stone, the Sith’ari stood and called out for more blood. Without warning, at the jarring motion of his arm he tore free a boulder and obliterated a swath of puny Sith before him.

Under his breath, The Blasphemer muttered as his master, the Emperor, summoned hell at a motion of his arm. - Finally… - In the sudden chaos of the moment, many of those Ptolemis had been observing, like Darth Bellum , Darth Immortuos or Darth Maledictio were now lost in this roaring ocean of black fabric and crimson light, but now wasn’t the time for observation anyway. It was the time for death. Ptolemis turned around, his precognitive senses warning him of an attack from behind; a hooded figure, no doubt with ambitions to rob him of his position, flew at him with their crimson blade ignited. But he was Shadow Hand for a reason.

His outstretched arm suddenly swung toward the flying figure, and caught him mid-air just barely out of reach. Cries of agony began to gurgle forth from the foolish attacker’s throat as the Blasphemer perverted the gravity around him, hatred shining through the slits of his unholy mask. As if crumpling a piece of dry paper, the Blasphemers fist closed - and folded the body of the Sith warrior in half. His destroyed torso dropped on the ground unceremoniously.

With rage the color of blood imprinted on his vision, he saw others retreating… except for one. Ptolemis’ masked gaze rose to witness the challenger. It was the ancient Sith Lord, Darth Vinaze . A moment passed as the brief stretch of space cleared out between the two. Now, only the primordial hatred of the Sith remained. No speeches were needed. The flashes of red around them revealed their eyes under the shadows of Akar Tsis. They expressed more than words ever could. With a metallic thud, his lightsaber hilt landed in the gloved palm of Darth Ptolemis, and in the same beat of time, streaks of violet snapped toward the man that stood between him, and his pride.​

Tags: Darth Solipsis Darth Vinaze Onrai Cornelius Nibocaj Derix Tirall Darth Bellum Khamul Kryze Shannic Wulf Darth Immortuos Pietro Demici Romi Jade Lossa Aureus Collector Darth Maledictio Briana Sal-Soren ​

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Outfit: XoXo | Equipment: Lightsaber, Echo Stone | Tag: Romi Jade , Lossa Aureus , Darth Solipsis FYI: Brandyn Sal-Soren , Vizion Trozky ​

To say the ceremony was nothing short of a monstrosity, would be to award it with too gentle a term. It was an abomination, a blight upon the Force, a thing of such vile repugnance that even the last faint light of Tython recoiled in horror once it was done.

And while every instinct in her body screamed at Briana to leave, to retreat now and regroup later, a dark, gravitational pull tugged at the soles of her boots, urging her to step forward with the rest.

To use this moment of pure carnage for the opportunity that it was.

For what if she left now, what if they waited, and Romi ended up with a dagger in her gut, too?

Reason tried creeping in, pointing out that if they’d wanted to kill Romi then the deed would already be done, but some black fear akin to fever wasps hatched beside that small voice inside the young woman’s mind, as memories that she’d desperately fought to push aside and keep caged, burst forth like a dark tide, each one a specter of failure that clawed at her resolve.

The sight of her parent’s in the clutches of an eternal embrace, their bodies desecrated upon the cool marble of Shiraya's holy Temple and drenched in blood.

The sound of her brother’s blade as it hissed through the air to find its mark, plunging deep into the heart of his victim, followed by the immediate and overwhelming scent of seared flesh and the biting tang of ozone that left no room to ponder the finality of it all.

Lossa sprawled out on the New Way examiners table, less-than-whole and encased in shadows.

Each memory, a splinter driven deep, each splinter, a fragment of her being, torn from her, bloodied and raw.

Her hand, trembling with the weight of past and potential losses, hovered near the hilt of her blade, the familiar contours whispering promises of action, of a chance to change the narrative. Even if it meant a sure dance with death, even if her pride beckoned her towards the precipice of sure folly.

But then, a nudge from Lossa, a gesture so understated yet so potent, that it tore through the clinging veil of darkness.

In an instant, Briana's hand fell listless to her side, her breath drawn in a desperate gasp as if she’d been drowning in a murky sea. But even as the air filled her lungs, it was not the warmth of salvation that greeted her, but the cold, stark truth of reason.

With a heavy heart, she cast a final, lingering gaze upon Romi. “We’ll be back for you,” She whispered, a vow that hung between hope and fear. “I promise.”

EXIT​

 

[Darth Vinaze]

THE PROPHET

Darksiders: Darth Solipsis Derix Tirall | Jogon | Onrai | Detritus Ren | Darth Ptolemis | Darth Immortuos | Khamul Kryze | Olorion Fossk | Darth Bellum | Shannic Wulf
Honored Guests: Romi Jade Pietro Demici

​

As the young Fossk's dagger plunged into the Cardinal's heart, the Force quivered. If there were ever a wound in the Force to be seen, to be felt, it was here. A glorious act and a glorious creation.

Vinaze been watching Olorian closely since they'd met, with one burning question that had finally been answered: he was indeed his father's son. WIth his heinous sacrilige of ancient Jedi grounds, with the burden of another Jedi removed from life, the fervor of the Dark Side frenzied into ecstasy.

Maybe Ptolemis knew before hand, maybe he simply foresaw it, but when the Sith'ari spoke, the fervor reached its boiling point, and the cacophony of sabers and screams began. The immediate smell of burnt flesh and fresh blood wafted across the room. He heard Immortuous' call to dethrone Solipsis, that kind of spirit was admirable yet misplaced. The Lord of Decay would die trying, or soar to heights unimaginable if he succeeded.

Vinaze looked to Ptolemis, unknowing for a moment that he was as much a target as anyone. The curse of mortality. He was far too used to being a mere apparition, untouchable by the rabble. A crutch... a weakness that he would need to excise, or Ptolemis would do it for him.

The Shadow Hand was quick, his energy reaching out to the Prophet's own, hostile and draining. The clone body he had possessed was weak. Immediately as the lifeforce began to drain, the features of the old man seemed to melt away as if years were passing in seconds. Vinaze was characteristically unarmed, and still weak from his time away. He was exactly the kind of weak this ceremony was to weed out. But he would rise above.

He could not bring himself to fight, though he figured he could create a weapon from the Dark Side energy, what use would he be with it. No, he had to use his greatest asset: his mind. And what mind was more illusive than that of the masked man who hardly spoke. Vinaze longed to know what made the Shadow Hand tick, and what made him as strong as he was.

As his physical body was drained, Vinaze could not help by to roar in pain, but it was a primal reaction of the body, not of the mind. Deep in his psyche, like a fortress, Vinaze reached out through the Force towards Ptolemis' own subconscious, and when the two met, Vinaze would dive in deep like a machine plumbing for oil. So too was it a rich blackness that he sought, not a material, but the blackness of the Dark Lord's soul. What secrets would he find locked away in there as he initiated a Sith memory walk upon the Dark Lord, attempting to evoke fear in the one who seemed to show none at all.