The Ancient Ways: Sith Sergeti Amulet

[Sal Katarn]

In a dark, secluded library on Exocron, Anaudius poured over light reading material. From his days among the Sith Empire as the Praetor of the Royal Guard he had acquired several Sith texts. Silent days of studying had passed by in the days of his first arrival to Moross, when still recovering from his wounds, as he attempted to decipher the Sith hieroglyphs. The language came slowly to him, but he found a natural connection with the words. This branch of the Force pleased Liad. It held knowledge both to heal and to destroy. Try as he might, Anaudius found no mention within the texts of ways to heal. This caused a deep anger within him. He wished to be whole, yet he knew that Liad had broken him. Liad healed the faithful. Why had Liad not healed him? He ground his teeth and turned a page.

Today he read from one of the tomes he had recovered from Empire's campaign on Tund. The Sorcerers there were illusionists mainly, but he had found several intriguing entries discussing the creation of items imbued with the power of the Dark Side. These amulets held the power to destroy and protect. Anaudius wished for one of these. In his ruined state he was fragile. True, Liad sustained him, but he was frail. He felt as though a thrown rock would shatter him into a thousand pieces. He wished to try his hand at creating one of these amulets.

Reading carefully from the tome, Anaudius sent for the supplies he would need. Metal, glass, and a life.

 

[Jacob2130]

(OOC: A life means to sacrifice someone?)

 

[Sal Katarn]

(OOC: You'll find out if you keep reading. In the future, if you have any OOC questions you may pm me. Do not post in IC threads with only OOC content. It's bad form.)

The altar of Liad seemed unnaturally clean for the god of disease. The light brown sandstone had a flat top, like an operating table. The altar bore jagged edges. Intricate grooves trailed down to a furrowed circle around the altar. Anaudius traced the grooves with a gloved fingertip. Fire had burned away the skin of his fingers. He would never know what it was like to know the sense of touch again. Not the feel of coarse sand, nor the smooth silk of sheets, nor even the soft skin of a woman. No woman would have him now, burnt and disfigured. He doubted even his brother would recognize him. But no... he had done away with that life. He was Anaudius now. Anaudius did not need the touch of a woman. He needed only Liad's mercy.

Anaudius looked up as two priests came in, flanking an individual in a plain, brown smock. The three-eyed Gran stared around at the temple as he entered. The spotless place of worship stood in stark contrast to the gaudy halls of Inari or Ithari. Here humility in all things was valued. The things of the galaxy faded away into dust. Corporeal possessions were as ash to Liad's followers. They awaited a greater reward: to be whole... in this life, or in the afterlife. Some of great faith were healed in this life. Anaudius hoped beyond hope to be one of them. The mutations of Velok upon his body made speaking excruciatingly painful. Even so, thrice daily he lifted up his withered hands toward the skies and cried out to Liad. No matter the pain. He wished to be whole once more.

Liad did not hear his prayers. Anaudius had yet to prove himself to the Plaguebearer. He must be more humble. He must not forget his place. Even the mightiest could be brought low by a mere illness. Disease was the great equalizer.

Anaudius looked the Gran in the brown smock up and down. The Gran fixed his eyes on the hooded and masked priest of Liad. In those three black eyes there held a touch of fear. Good. All should fear what awaited beyond.

A voice that sounded like the grating of nails sounded in the Gran's head.

"Do you serve Liad, child of flesh?"

"Yes," the Gran whispered back.

Anaudius beckoned. The two other priests helped to guide the Gran onto the altar and lay him flat. Anaudius leaned over the mammal. The Gran's breath was foul, but the zealot made no indication that this affected him. The Gran suffered from a rare strain of genetic disease. He was dying, slowly. Painfully. He wished for the Mercy of Liad.

"Are you prepared?" asked one of the other priests.

"I am," said the Gran, voice shaking.

Anaudius turned away from the Gran. When he turned back he held a ceremonial dagger. "Do you seek Liad's Mercy?" rasped the thousand shrieking nails.

"Yes, yes, I do," said the Gran, his voice trembling.

The cowled priest nodded slowly, then plunged the dagger into the Gran's heart. At first, the mammal struggled, but as his breathing shallowed out he managed to utter, "Pain... no more pain... Praise Liad." His voice did not waver. Anaudius jerked the knife free and wiped it on a cloth on the altar intended for the purpose. The blood of the Gran flowed across the altar and down the grooves, channeled into the ring at the bottom. Anaudius bowed his head and the two other priests began to chant solemnly, urging the Gran's soul onward into the next life.

Anaudius stared at the Gran for a long moment, then he took a vial from within his sleeve and scooped up some of the blood. Capping the vial, he turned and left. Those of lower status would cleanse the temple. It was their duty. They were happy to perform such an act, praise Liad.

Not long afterward, Anaudius returned to his private room inside the darkened library of Sifriyah and resumed his attempt to create an amulet in the method of the Sith.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Streams of Dark Side poured from Anaudius' fingertips as he attempted to imbue the object before him with raw energy. The object looked like two elongated pyramids put together at the base. Inside the glass and metal structure shifted the blood of the sacrificed. Anaudius channeled that connection. Death for life. Every gift had a price. His had come at the cost of his features and voice. Anaudius pushed all his pain and anger into the object before him. He pushed hard. He so desperately wanted to succeeded. Wanted to create something rather than destroy. All Liad ever used him for was to afflict. Could he not, this once, be used to heal? To protect?

The amulet exploded.

Alchemical glass and metal sprayed through the air in a Dark Side-fueled eruption. Anaudius stared at the remnants of his experiment. Rage. Incomprehensible rage. Fire roared from his hands as he tried to burn it. Burn it all. He screamed with all the air in his lungs.

Pain. So much pain.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Several days later, Anaudius resumed his project. The fires of his anger had melted all the components, but he had gathered new ones. He mixed in the remnants of the old with the new, finding that his first attempt had served to imbue them with a bit of Dark Side energy, but not enough. Something more powerful was needed to infuse this amulet. A nexus of the Force. Specifically, a nexus of the Dark Side.

The self-taught Sorcerer moved lithely up the steps to the temple of Liad. Once again he came to this sacred place. He closed his eyes. There was light here, yes, but there was also dark. A place of death and a place of life. People came here, diseased, wishing to die. Sometimes Liad saved them. Sometimes... Anaudius remembered the Gran's gurgling breath on the altar. His hand on the knife, embedded in the chest. Small rivers of blood from a heart whose fading beats thumped against the knife. He breathed out, then in, gathering all the emotion inward. The pain. The fear. The anger.... and the love. All of these raw emotions tumbled through him. He felt... powerful. Liad's blessing upon him.

Anaudius stretched forth a hand and pressed the energy into the amulet. At first, nothing. Then the amulet began to glow a soft violet. Anaudius breathed. The Dark Side rushed out of him. He had done it. He held up the amulet to inspect. Behind his mask, a smile. The first one he'd shown in a long, long time.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Now came the final part. The test.

He stood above a circular, wide pit. Into the pit strode a willing servant of the Aesir, wearing the amulet. Cages inside the pit housed those who had committed the gravest of offenses against the Aesir. Reprobates and heretics. They deserved to die a thousand deaths. However, they would serve the Aesire one last time. For Anaudius was convinced that his experimentation was an idea planted by Liad. A gift from the god of plagues. He nodded slowly to a man standing at a control panel.

The man hit the button and the cage doors in the pit opened. The reprobates moved forth, slowly at first. They were covered in grime. Anaudius did not know how many years they had been down here, nor did he care. He cared only for results. He nodded to the servant of the Aesir. She uncoiled a whip from her belt and cracked it sharply. The reprobates jumped and began to move out into the pit. Suddenly, the woman's whip whizzed across the pit and hit an unsuspecting heretic. The tough leather cut through the flesh of his cheek, spilling blood. At once, a great cry came up from the reprobates and they charged the servant as one.

One attempted to grab her. Dark Side blasted from the amulet in the form of crackling red tendrils. Anaudius held up a hand to shield his eyes. When he lowered it and surveyed the pit he found the servant of the Aesir standing in the middle of a ring of bodies. Smoke curled from the corpses. Dead to the last.

Anaudius lowered his chin. It had worked. He would have to recharge it of course, but... it had worked. Sergeti. Guardian.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Bearing the amulet in his palm, Anaudius entered the abode of Neth the Keeper. One of the three living gods. His interactions with the Aesir of knowledge had been sparse. In some ways the incarnations frightened Anaudius. So much power in a mortal vessel. How could the body withstand it? With these thoughts trickling through his head he walked through the halls and into the sacred library. One of the guards had told him he would find Neth in the library. The library was more symbolic than anything else. The Aesir of Knowledge had no need for such mortal books. He already knew more than men could comprehend.

Anaudius spotted, or rather felt the god. Power radiated from him like a beacon in the Force. He approached and bowed his head before the Aesir of Knowledge. Though he worshipped Liad first, all the deities were deserving of his worship and respect. Even if he did not understand the ways of some. But then, who could comprehend the ways of a god?

The mute zealot wordlessly extended the sergeti amulet toward Neth, keeping his head bowed as he did so. The faint purple glow from within the amulet caused a soft illumination in the dim lights of the library.

@[member="Soliael Devin Talith"]

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Soliael as nearly always had been standing within his library speaking to mortals and counseling them on their desires and need. It had become a habit of his to speak to his followers, mostly to give them tasks and guidance. His eyes shifted however almost immediately as he felt the presence of a plague, he smiled slightly. The stink of Liad was a powerful one, even now. His gaze drifted to the man that approached him, and his body soon followed.

The man wordlessly presented him with an amulet of some sort, deriving a deep dark chuckle from Soliaels lungs. It was not a gift, that much he knew.

It was far more likely that the man wanted his work inspected, perhaps even praised. Soliael could feel the darkside energy pouring off of it, and gently he scooped up the purple glowing silver amulet into his hand. A flare seemed to spike between them as his own energies touched the Amulet, the glow becoming thicker and stronger.

“A fine piece of work.” And so it was, almost expertly crafted. From a simple touch Soliael could feel its purpose. It would serve well, though like all things it had its flaws.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Pride rose like flames within Anaudius, fueled by the bellows of Neth's praise. To have the god of knowledge himself compliment his work was unexpected. Neth's entire reaction was indeed... unexpected. If anything, Neth seemed more amused with him than anything else. No doubt such creations were banal to him. Anaudius bowed deeply before the Aesir and spoke.

"Thank you, Holy Keeper," the words tore from his throat like the rasping of nails upon coarse metal. He experienced pain beyond his comprehension and he swayed where he stood, nearly toppling. His eyes hazed over with a mist of unspent tears that shimmered behind his mask. Curse Velok and his foul machinations. He bowed again, unsure if he could continue to stand and extended a hand to accept the amulet back.

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

He smiled beneath his mask. Godhood was a gift at times, and clearly this man...perhaps better to say this thing taken to great joy by his words. It had been that simple. Perhaps he would need more, perhaps one more final push to encourage such things. Liad did not have many followers, but in Soliaels creation of Moross he had thought the god to be one of his favorites, and had he been more chaotic, it might very well have been the guise he would have taken.

“Keep down this path young one. I foresee great things in you.” Again, simple praise that would mean the world to a true follower.

He smiled beneath his mask, then handed back the amulet, the shimmer dimming slightly. As soon as the Sith Artifact left his palm Neth turned away from the follower of Liad and regarded some of the others in the library, he was so busy.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Anaudius did not scrape or bow again. He was a servant of the Aesir, but he was no sycophant. Nevertheless, he did feel a touch of joy from Neth's wrods that pushed through the pain of his aching throat. Graciously, he accepted the amulet back and turned. His soft footfalls were barely audible as he made his exit. Pain still wracked his body, as it always did when he spoke, but he had more to contemplate now than the nature of his pain.

What did Neth see in him? What did his future hold? Anaudius could not but feel as though he were fated toward a higher purpose of Liad's divine calling. Neth's words reinforced this a thousandfold. Even so, Neth had been right to call him young. For he was young, even by human years. He was the youngest praetor of the royal guard in history. He also held the title for the shortest term in office. There was time yet before him, though for what he did not know.