Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Private Of The Abyss (Revna)


CS3FUG8.png

They were called the Black Cells.

Metaphorically and literally, they symbolized the darkest reaches one could ever be subjected to. The very walls of the prison were made from metal blackened to the point where no light could reflect off of it's surface. One could not tell where the walls ended and the ceiling and floors began. Prisoners were thrown into these darkened cells, made to suffer a seemingly endless nothingness. They would find that no matter how far they moved they could never reach the walls, even though they knew the room was not that large when they had been thrown in.

Time would not obey them either, for in their perception years stretched on in complete darkness while only hours passed beyond the walls of their prison. In such total isolation, the mind often succumbed to madness. When a mind was broken in such a way, it could be sifted through and dissected without the redoubts of mental defenses. Those that were discarded to the Black Cells emerged broken people, their minds shattered by the infinity of shadows. And when their gaolers had their fill, they were discarded.

She had only been within a Black Cell for a few hours at most, but in her mind it had been years. Hunger clawed at her belly, thirst strangled her throat, but she did not die. Her body did not wither, she did not age. Her hair never grew, she felt no other bodily compulsion other than an intense hunger and thirst. When they came for her again, the light from the exterior corridor was as blinding as the brightest star. They dragged her from the cell and out into the wider complex, passing by great temples to pain and suffering inflicted upon the enemies of her captors. Today, she would be spared the worst of it.

Where they left her, she could not know -- only that it was a room smothered in smoke and shadow. Her bindings had been removed, the metal having dug into the skin of her wrists and ankles during her captivity. She was left to linger in her misery for a time, before she could sense another in her midst. This was a different shadow than the one she endured in the cell, it was far more potent.

Worst of all, it was a living darkness.

She would only see His outline initially, a smudge against the indistinct smoke that bordered her perception. But, in an instant, it all bled away into normality. She found herself in a plain gray room, no larger than a modest living quarter, but still not alone. He was there with her, His towering presence casting a dire gloom over her. She knew His name, she knew His face, but that knowledge imparted onto her by her master and her comrades paled in comparison to being near Him. He radiated a malice so acute that her skin reacted with phantom sensations, as though it were crawling atop her muscles. An unnatural chill crept up her spine, her every instinct struggling between fight or flight, like she were left naked and unarmed before a great and terrible beast; one that would tear her to ribbons in a heartbeat.

"They call you Revna Sharr, do they not?" His voice was like the death-throes of a primordial world, the glacial annihilation of whole continents as tectonics shifted and collapsed in on one another. She would know in an instant that this was the voice of a being who had ordered the death of trillions, the bane of all life. There was no warmth, no solace to be found in familiar tones, only the harsh bite of each syllable as they crept through her inner ear. To hearken to Him was to hearken to obliteration, to keenly know the articulation of cruelty made manifest.

To gaze upon Him was to court the inevitability of an event horizon, to know certain death was imminent and unavoidable. Every inch was cut the image of a conqueror, a butcher, a tyrant. His shoulders were broad, body sculpted for war. A plain tunic of black cloth hung down across His torso, the edges embroidered with phrases of Sith scripture in the blasphemous tongue of ur-Kittât. He bore no weapon, for He did not require one. He could kill her a word if He wanted to, every action potentially lethal.

All of His being demanded submission, and her own body fought to obey that sensation; as though to not commit yourself to His will was wrong and grotesque.

"Your master makes very large waves for a creature so small, Revna Sharr. I want to hear your thoughts on his recent actions." Though she felt no compulsion through the Force, it was as if His very voice compelled her to do as He asked. "For the sins of the master are often laid upon the brow of the apprentice, are they not?"


xRL6TGI.png


Revna Revna
 


Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex


Revna was no stranger to darkness.

But nothing quite prepared her to face the abyssal depths of the cell she had been brought to after the savaging she’d received at the hand of one of the Kainite Dark Lords. How she survived…she wasn’t really sure. He had brought her to the very brink of death, but had allowed her to live. And when he had gotten what he wanted from her, she had been brought here and shackled down.

The darkness that surrounded her seemed…eternal. In fact, time seemed to not exist in this place at all, and it wore Revna’s mental defenses down little by little. She hoped that her Master, her cousin Malum…everyone she ever cared about…would come for her. Would break her free or demand her back.

But the longer she remained in the darkness of her cell, the more she began to believe that she’d been abandoned by those she’d given her life, her service, to. The pain that came with that belief was almost too much to bear, and her mind fractured slowly as hopelessness threatened to drown her completely.

She wasn’t aware that only a short time had passed while she’d been in the cell; to her, it had been days which had turned to weeks, then months…then years. It was enough to break anyone who was weaker, who might have been lesser. And though she did crack, she did not break completely. For even in the midst of her languishing, she began to notice that something wasn’t quite…right.

If she had been locked away for years, with no visitation…she would have died long ago from the hunger and thirst she felt.

There was no guarantee how long she would remain in this blackened space, but she needed to find a way to preserve her sanity. So to pass the time, and give herself a way of keeping time, she began to count her breaths. It took all of her discipline to keep it going forward, but Revna was - if anything - persistent and stubborn.

She noticed, as she focused on her breaths, the slight wheeze and crackle within her lungs. It seemed that the Dark side fire leveled against her had done enough damage that even healing couldn’t repair all of it. It made breathing…a bit labored, as if there was some fluid within the organs themselves. Something to adjust to…for however long she remained alive.

Young Revna was torn between a desire for life, and a longing for death. She wanted to live, to rise and prove herself strong enough to withstand this nightmare, to withstand the testing and trials her enemies put her through. But she also wanted the peace and silence that surely would come with passing on. She didn’t expect to live long in Kainite custody anyway, and so she accepted the fact that she might very well be executed at some point in the future. For why would the Kainites keep an enemy of theirs alive after they had taken all they wanted from such an individual?

But if she truly wanted to live…then she needed to figure out a plan, a way, to survive. And that meant doing things she utterly despised thinking about, let alone doing. She was at risk of losing it all…so what was she willing to sacrifice to keep a hold of her very life?

Bright light flooded the darkness, and Revna stopped counting her breaths. She remained still and quiet as figures approached her, removed her shackles, and hauled her from her cell. She went with them willingly, her somewhat dull eyes taking in her surroundings as they moved her along without compassion to her pains.

She wondered where she was being taken, and her mind pondered if she was being marched to her death. She accepted the possibility, and allowed a numbness to settle over her mind. She only hoped she would be allowed to die fighting.

Instead, she was forced into yet another chamber, filled with darkness that seemed almost palpable. The smog and smoke within agitated her already limited lungs, and breathing became an effort. But her new situation confirmed her suspicions: she hadn’t been trapped for years. She still felt hunger and thirst; and she still felt pain. It helped ease her tortured mind, and gave her a spark of hope.

Hope that she just might see the others again…her Master who was now like a father to her; her cousin Malum, her close and dear friend Zachariah…and even the wintry but beautiful woman that was the Empress. She had to survive…if only to see them again. Even if they hated her after all of this.

Revna existed in the shadowy room for some time, pondering what fate may be in store for her beyond this point. She was lost to her thoughts, until she sensed the arrival of another into the darkened space with her. Its presence made every nerve stand on edge, and dread prickled across her flesh as she felt the immense and raw dark power that filled the room. Her eyes spotted a darker shadow within the smoke, and she pinned it with a glare.

A blink of an eye later, the shadows within the room fled, and Revna was left to stare down the figure who had appeared in the chamber with her.

Darth Carnifex, in the flesh.

And he was far closer to her than she ever wanted him to be.

Many things washed over the small woman at that moment. Immediate sense of danger to her life, fear, anger, uncertainty…and a bitter hatred. It was all tempered by the feeling that she was prey here. Revna was acutely aware that she only existed and continued to draw breath in that moment, only because he wished her to. This was a Dark Lord of immense strength and power that she could hardly comprehend as a mere apprentice to the ways of the Dark side. Extreme caution had to be played if she wished to live beyond this point.

Her golden-orange eyes, glinting with the corruption of the Dark, narrowed slightly as she beheld the tyrant in all his infernal glory. She knew that he would not lower himself to be in her presence for just any reason; no - he wanted something from her.

When Darth Carnifex spoke, his voice rolled out like thunder to fill the space around them. He seemed to ask for confirmation of her name. Revna Sharr…a phony last name that hid the truth of who she really was. Did he not know that she was a Marr by blood? Truthfully, it may not have mattered to the tyrant Butcher before her…but she would operate under the belief that he didn’t know, and keep her connections to her family House to herself if at all possible.

But now she was faced with a new and different problem: the fires that had ravaged her had taken away her capability to talk aloud. She didn’t know if she would be able to speak to him telepathically, but it was worth a try. So she projected her mental voice through the Force, aimed at him like a spear, and hoped he would hear her.

-Yes, I am Revna Sharr.-

She neglected using any formal titles or respect or address for him - almost not caring if it brought consequences down upon her own head. Carnifex’s very presence demanded submission and compliance from weaker Sith, those too gutless to hold their ground and though Revna was afraid, she was no coward in the face of death and supremacy. Despite her instincts telling her to cower away and be deferential, she remained unmoving in defiance of his presence of authority and will.

Carnifex spoke again, and she listened as he commented on the actions her Master had taken over the course of time, more recent actions…though these had taken place months prior to her capture, perhaps even longer. The Dark Lord wanted to hear her thoughts on Darth Strosius’s actions. She tilted her head ever so slightly to the left as she regarded him in silence for a few moments. Internally, she smiled. The blackened cell she’d been bound in had been designed to break the minds and wills of those within. It had almost succeeded in breaking her too…but she had endured, if only barely.

But perhaps…she could use this to her advantage, and deceive the one before her into thinking that she had broken. Could she get away with it?

-His recent actions?- she scoffed through the telepathic voice. -My thoughts on his actions do not matter anymore, as I simply do not know what has transpired in the length of time that I have been your prisoner. He could be dead now for all I know.-

The sins of the master laid upon the head of the apprentice…yes, she recalled the words of the other tyrant who had nearly destroyed her; that she was suffering all of this because of the actions of her Lord. Though the situation she found herself in was far more complex than it appeared on the surface, she understood that she was here as a means to strike back against her Master.

An age-old battle of rivalries between Sith Lords and their powerbases. And the apprentices were often targeted - at least, that was something she noticed in her studies into ancient Sith history. And it was playing out before her eyes.

-It is quite possible that I am an apprentice without a master now, so I see no point in punishing me for his sins. But…if you so wish to know what I thought about his past actions…sometimes I found them to be…foolish. I did not always agree with him, or his plans. But it was not my place to question him; only to do as he directed me, as any obedient and loyal apprentice would-

She paused for a moment to try and bring oxygen into her stricken lungs, the crackling wheeze almost deafening in the silent chamber, at least it was to her ears.

-
Surely you did not come to talk to a known enemy, Butcher. So what do you really want from me?-

 

CS3FUG8.png

"Quite diplomatic, a trait you learned from Alisteri no doubt. He has honed such speech to an art, straddled between self-preservation and fanatic violence. It would be commendable if it weren't so tiresome."

He reached out and gestured to the floor between them, which bulged out and began to rearrange itself as though it were made from liquid. The form of a table took immediate shape, and then solidity. A chair for her arose as did a chair for Him, although His was proportionally sized. A cup would also materialize from the table's surface, filled with crystal clear water for Revna to drink.

The Dark Lord then did something unexpected. He stepped forward and peeled back the glove from His right hand. Beneath the glove, the Dark Lord's bare skin was blackened with ink. From a distance it appeared as though every inch of His hand and forearm had been tattooed a single sleeve of black, but as her eyes adjusted to His approaching hand -- Revna would see that it was a tapestry of interwoven runic symbols, so tightly packed that from afar it appeared as a single mass.

His fingers touched her bare skin, and for a moment nothing happened. Then terrible agony lanced through Revna, a horrendous burning pain. But, to her astonishment, as the pain radiated through her body, the damage inflicted by unholy fire began to repair itself. In the span of a few seconds, though it felt like an eternity of agony, she was healed. She would know instinctively that the Dark Lord shared her pain, for nothing of the Dark Side could be so freely given.

As He pulled His hand away, stray discharges of electricity danced between her skin and His smoldering fingertips. "You misunderstand me, Revna Sharr. I do not seek to punish you, nor do I intend to wield you against your master; who has strayed so far from the path. No, I seek to learn from you, and through you perhaps learn from your master. I have always watched Alisteri Haxim from afar, though his attempts to shield himself from my gaze are numerous; they are all futile."

Carnifex turned and took His seat at the table, offering the other chair to Revna. When she was seated, He continued speaking. "I had always considered Alisteri Haxim as an oddity, a curious, if not brazen, zealot whose bark was far more potent than his bite. That was until he and the Marr boy managed to kill Darth Ophidia, who I considered one of the greatest assassins and swordsmen of our age. Then, he was no longer an oddity to be disregarded at leisure. He was now someone to take an interest in, someone whose potential could be cultivated. Unfortunately, He chooses the road of self-destruction, dragging you and the Marr boy down with him."

His eyes burrowed into hers, almost hypnotically.

"Tell me your true thoughts about him, Revna Sharr, and do not deflect. My patience for willing obstinance is not infinite."


xRL6TGI.png


Revna Revna
 


Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex


Revna narrowed her gaze as she heard the Dark Lord’s words; to her they were sarcastic. Her master, diplomatic? She scoffed aloud - or tried to, anyway. The effort left her in a small coughing fit that sent pain rippling through her chest. Her distrustful, wary gaze watched the man’s every move, prepared to defend herself or fight back should his intentions prove hostile. Not that she had any hope of fending him off for long.

Instead of outright assaulting her, however, he extended a hand and gestured to the floor between them - which, to her awe, began to shift and morph itself into a table and two appropriately sized chairs…one for him, and one for her. Materializing on the table closest to the smaller chair was a cup, though from the distance she couldn’t tell what was inside, if anything. The expression of surprise and awe remained on her face for a few brief moments, before it was replaced by the same wary glare as before, but she was quick to realize that perhaps the Dark Lord’s intentions were not as hostile as she initially believed. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have magicked up a table and two chairs for them to sit in.

However, she stiffened as every muscle in her body went taut when he approached her, removing a glove from his right hand as he did so. Her instinct was to back away and cower in hopes of avoiding any further harm being done to her…but she forced herself to stand in place and face whatever was about to happen next. Her eyes locked onto his approaching hand, and she noticed that it was covered by a tattoo that extended up his forearm, and just before his fingers touched her bare skin, the little woman noticed further that the tattoo itself was made up runic sigils, intricately inked into his flesh. She was stiff as a board when they connected, and for a moment nothing seemed to happen.

Then, pain pierced through her, flooding every inch of her body. Had she had working vocal cords, she might have screamed from its intensity. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut tight against the burning agony, her fists clenched tightly as all she could do was endure. The Dark side seemed to flow and surge its way between them, and a streak of violence rippled through her mind, and she was intent on attacking the Sith before her when she gained control of her movements again…that was until she realized something was different about this fiery pain she was experiencing. It wasn’t like the burning of the blue fire that had nearly destroyed her.

This was more…purifying. Like it was purging her body of its weaknesses.

What felt like an eternity later, the pain eased and for the briefest of moments Revna could have sworn she felt Carnifex’s pain too, as if he shared in her suffering along with her. Her eyes opened, glinting golden as the pain made her feel the Dark more acutely, and as she sucked in a deep breath she realized that there was no longer any heaviness in her chest, in her lungs. The crackling wheeze was gone. In fact, her throat wasn't raw and burning anymore either.

Darth Carnifex, her sworn enemy…had healed her. "...why...why did you do that? Why heal my injuries?" she asked quietly, her confusion evident in her voice...which she found to be strong, as if it had never been damaged beforehand.

Revna blinked as the Dark Lord pulled his hand away from her skin, and she tilted her head to glance up at him as she heard him speak. His words only brought her further confusion; he wasn’t seeking to punish her or use her against her master? He wanted to learn from her? And by proxy learn from her master? She watched as he turned and sat down in the larger chair at the table, and gestured for her to do the same. The little Sith sat in her chair, and peered at the cup before her - noticing it was filled with what appeared to be water. She was very thirsty, but she was still distrusting enough not to take it.

The thundering voice of the Dark Lord continued, and Revna listened in silence to what he had to say in regards to her master, that Alisteri had been considered more bark than bite, until he and Malum had successfully killed Darth Ophidia. Though she did notice that Carnifex seemed to afford her master more respect than he did for Malum, referring to him simply as the 'Marr boy'. To hear her enemy speak with almost borderline respect for her master and his accomplishment was a bit of a surprise to her. She wasn’t expecting that.

In fact, she hadn’t expected any of this to happen the way it had. Her mild confusion showed on her face as she tried to make sense of what was taking place. It made her pause and think, and slowly a shift came over her features. Her hostility all but melted away, though she was still wary, still cautious. If Darth Carnifex wasn't showing hostile intent, then neither would she.

Revna pondered his words as his molten eyes stared into her own. Carnifex asked again for her to share her true thoughts about her master, and gave her a warning that his patience for her deflection and stubbornness would not last forever. It was then that she knew he’d seen through her deception, and it was pointless to keep up with it. She took a deep breath and crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap. She held the gaze of the Dark Lord for a few moments in silence, before dipping her head in understanding.

Sometimes those you least expect to bite are the ones who rip your throat out.” the little woman murmured before clearing her throat, still surprised that it was strong and clear. “I…uh, thank you…for giving my voice back to me.” She replied, finding it a bit awkward to feel some gratitude towards her enemy. But, now it was down to business. He wanted her thoughts, and so he would have them.

I think he is a powerful Sith Lord, perhaps not the most powerful around, but he holds his own in his own way - and he's survived this long surrounded by enemies, be they of his own making or not. He has guts and spirit and is fearless, to the point where he is willing to stare both you and the other Dark Lord down and try to kill you both, without batting an eye to the dangers levied against him. He’d go for the Sith Emperor the moment he had the chance, no matter the danger posed to himself. He knows the power you immortal tyrants wield, yet that does not deter him from his vision, his mission, his belief. And I have the utmost respect for him because of this. How many Sith can challenge you or Darth Empyrean directly and fearlessly, despite knowing the risks posed against their very life? Some would say it's foolish, or stupid…and perhaps it is. But he holds tight to what he believes, and he is willing to stand by it and fight for it and die by it, if necessary. That to me, is what devotion looks like. Darth Strosius is a devoted Sith, devoted to his cause, his purpose, his path.

Revna paused, her gaze sliding away from that of Darth Carnifex to stare at a point beyond him. “But…if I can be frank…I think he is consumed by his lust for retribution against those who he feels have wronged the Sith. His hatred for you all knows no bounds…he is even willing to hate dear Lady Talon, simply by her association to the Emperor. This is where he and I clash. I much prefer to get to know or at least try to understand those who are supposed to be my enemies. I want to decide for myself if they are worthy of my hate, my ire, or not.

Her gaze snapping back to him sharply, almost predator-like. She considered seeking permission to ask a question of him, but she quickly dashed that thought aside. Sith didn’t ask for permission for anything, and she certainly wouldn’t. “Your tattoo - how does it work? What did you have to do in order to have it inked upon your skin? Did you do it yourself? Did someone else?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Or is that some kind of forbidden knowledge beyond my scope of understanding?


 
Last edited:

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom