More Than A Weapon, More Than A Life

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Rave Merrill"]

Ayden marched behind Rave, casually observing the place she had requested they come to as part of this project. He took particular interest in the bipedal creatures that, unless he was mistaken, were derived from tuk'ata stock. Exactly what had been done to them, Ayden could only speculate. However, he wasn't ultimately interested in them. Whatever Rave needed to do as part of her operations, unless they directly threatened the Protectorate, he did not care. She could give him the aid he needed. If that meant turning a blind eye to certain acts and deeds, then he would happily do that.

"I must admit Rave, every time I think I've seen it all and I've got you figured out, you impress me." He smiled and chuckled quietly while they descended the various levels of her little hideout. Quietly he thumbed the minor stygium crystal before pocketing it. She was certainly industrious in her work. Part of him wondered what sort of danger she would pose if she ever decided to try and seize galactic power. The fighting would be fierce, that was certain. He could only imagine what manner of alchemical creatures she could unleash. She had been there at Lotek'k's slaying. He would have shuddered in terror at the memory had he allowed himself to. No... That wasn't Rave's style, of that Ayden was certain. If nothing else, he doubted she'd turn her attentions against the Protectorate.

When they came to their apparent destination, Ayden watched as the massive door was rolled away to reveal a massive forge. Immediately, Ayden could feel the Dark Side emanating from within. It was obviously constructed with, and perhaps even powered by the Dark Side. He wondered if the artifact he sought to create would radiate with this same aura. He hoped not. But if it would help him return Cira to the Protectorate, he cared not for the aura of the weapon. It would be a tool for him, nothing more. "So... Where do we begin?"

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Ayden Cater"]

"That depends entirely on you. You have two options. The first is to lend me your strength like you did earlier. The second is to experience the construction of a Talisman of Concentration, and perhaps learn to do it yourself, at the cost of direct contact with the Dark Forge. The experience can be striking. Corrupting, a Jedi would say." She gestured to her own yellow eyes. "A little Mephistophelean of me, but...welcome to the jungle, Ayden."

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Rave Merrill"]

He stared quietly for a moment at the forge before shifting his attention to the weapon at hand. Her words earlier echoed in his mind. True power always comes at a cost... Was he willing to pay it? What wouldn't he do to get her back? What wouldn't he do to destroy the One Sith and everything they stood for from the galaxy? The blood price? The suffering? He tightened his grip on the hilt and leveled a glare at the forge before turning and looking at Rave with a look of absolute certainty.

"Show me what do." His voice was like durasteel as he made his decision. There was no going back now.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Ayden Cater"]

"Do you understand now why I asked you for a blood sacrifice?"

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Rave Merrill"]

Ayden shook his head as he took another step into the room. "I'd be lying if I said I understood any of it. All I understand is what I must do to get Cira back, to destroy the Sith. I need this weapon." After walking around the forge for a few minutes, Ayden found where to place the sword and gingerly set it in place. "How do I begin?"

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Ayden Cater"]

Rave grimaced faintly; maybe the ooglith cloaker covered the expression. "I've been studying the writings of Darth Plagueis, I've learned things I'd never have dreamed of, but in his haste to secularize the Force and throw away symbolism, ceremony, ritual, he missed something crucial. The blood you brought me -- from the volume, I can only assume some or all of it came from clones. But this is about symbolism, because of the power symbolism holds. Drawing blood from a clone is one thing; sacrificing from yourself is entirely different. I have clones, many of them, on ice, but when I made Entropy, every liter of blood that bathed my sword came from my veins, not theirs, and the sword is stronger for it."

She gestured oddly, and a green mist appeared around her hand. It coalesced into a small hooked knife, tangible and apparently possessed of mass. Amazing how close Nightsister spirit ichor came to its polar ideological opposite, Plagueis and his aperion. The laws of physics, summoned at will.

She handed Ayden the knife.

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Rave Merrill"]

Ayden swallowed and licked his lips. When had it gotten so dry? Slowly he plucked the green knife from Rave's outstretched hands. It was heavier than it looked. He turned it over in his hand a few times before he stepped up to the forge. He contemplated for a moment looking back to Rave for some idea of what to do next, but he knew what he had to do. With a surprising lack of hesitancy, Ayden extended his left arm over the sword and drew the blade across his flesh.

His arm screamed in pain, protesting the act, but it was done. Blood flowed freely over the weapon as he slowly moved his arm across, ensuring no part of the sword lacked a drop of his blood. His arm had gone numb before it was done. He put the knife down and cradled his arm. His mind felt fuzzy as he used the Force to staunch the bleeding and took a step back, now looking at Rave for the next step.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Ayden Cater"]

Rave nodded in approval. A token effort received a token reward, but Ayden understood the law of the harvest.

"Brace yourself."

Sith Magic hit him like a Mikhail Shorn-scale brick wall. She knew a few ways to heal; only one of them fit the moment, and only one of them could affect another permanently: the same spell that Nadd had used to fix Kun's shattered body. There would be pain, but his arm would mend and his head would clear. Anywhere else, the spell would have staggered her, but the Forge sustained her. The blood-slicked sword rose and spun above the Forge; the physical apparatus would not be required today. She rarely exerted herself to her limits (there were few more reliable ways to make enemies; as a certain failed Grandmaster had once said ad nauseum, people resent success) but in this place, for this task, she could afford to stretch herself and let it be seen. The gestures that had formed the knife had shifted into a whole other set of iconography for the healing; now they changed a third time, then vanished utterly. She didn't, after all, need them. Any of them.

With an even voice and the concise detail of one who'd thought through a procedure backwards and forwards, she explained the creation of a Talisman of Concentration, alchemizing it into greater durability as she did. The sword contracted, grew more dense, a process as precise as the one she applied to the fragmented stygium her tuk'ata drew from the ground. Then the true work began, an effort that drew from the Forge to delve into the overlapping boundary between alchemy and magic.

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Rave Merrill"]

On an unconscious level, he understood what she meant, but Ayden could only look at Rave with an utterly confused expression before every synapse in his head fired white with pain. He screamed soundlessly as his legs buckled, sending him sprawling to the ground. Every muscle in his body seized and spasmed as he was wracked with the effects of the Sith Magic. Time was meaningless, and the world was gone from view. All Ayden could see was white, all he could feel was agony.

At some point, days, minutes, years, perhaps only seconds later, a different sensation crept into his mind. A distant part of him recognized it still as pain, but compared to the white-hot fire that coursed through his veins this was sweet relief. His body was still wrought with pain, but Ayden could feel it subside slowly. With a start, Ayden realized he could see again. The ground felt like ice against his skull before he struggled to his hands and knees. He wanted nothing more than to empty his stomach and collapse, but Ayden willed himself up to his feet with a shuddering gasp and a shaking knee.

The Corellian found his center once again and looked over to what Rave was doing. He considered reaching out with the Force, but decided against it. He was still recovering from the aftershocks and did not know if his efforts would help or hinder the master alchemist. So he stood back and watched the reward for his sacrifice take shape.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Ayden Cater"]

Rave approached oneness. Not in the glowy transcendent sense, but still to some reasonably interesting degree, as if the boundaries had blurred between her and her surroundings. She kept away from Ayden -- those boundaries did not need to be blurred -- but she felt as if she was the qo'saarai. They were hard at work, teaching their young and prospecting across the tundra, or hard at play in the brachiation rooms. She tasted their dislike of the cold, their gratitude to her, their friendly wariness toward her, sometimes their incomprehension of this task or that. Their amusement that the crystal shards were worth so much to the humans.

She folded away that connectedness into the crystal sword, entrenching routes to handle and amplify and, yes, drain Force flows. By the time Ayden returned to functionality, the sword was a lens, a nexus, a lever. She presented it to him.

"You've worked long enough. Reap the harvest." She tilted her head. "But...perhaps not here. Wait until you're in safe and familiar territory to test it fully."