This Curse Is Yours

[Adron Malvern]

Location: Kyrinov's Starship
Time: After Midnight
Tag: [member="Kyrinov"]

"The night is dark, the moon is hidden, and evil claims it's reward."​

​

Alchemy. It was a particularly difficult power even for Darth Malphas who often considered himself a prodigy of The Dark Side. The power it took was so great it often left The Exarch in a weakened state for days to come. Of course that was not to say it did not have any reward. Sith Alchemy was one of the oldest forms of manipulation through the Dark Side. It allowed a powerful Sith Lord like Malphas to change the nature of certain things. He could enhance their power, bestow a gift, or reinforce their resiliency. This was one of the more basic parts of this skill and Adron was slowly beginning to grasp it. Slowly.

Under the cover of darkness Adron moved through a shadowy spaceport. Few beings were up and about which made it all the better. He never cared to be seen when on certain business. This was no task bestowed to him from the Vicelord or even a personal venture that would bring him power or influence. No. This was more of a side task that had to be done so the Exarch's mind could find some semblance of focus. The halls surrounding him were dimply lit, nothing but the faintest red hue drawing over his own form as he moved down them. He would pass the occasional traveler coming or going in the dead of night. They would not see him, he had wrapped himself in a blanket of The Force that hid him from the eyes of those untouched by power. It was not long until the Exarch stared at a hangar bay, open and seemingly docked. The ship within was humble, small, but not overly rustic or frail. Seemed appropriate enough for someone of less sophisticated taste.

Darth Malphas said nothing, instead he approached the ship. Stepping into the slightly more lit chamber it was easier to see the slate stripes on his ebony suit. They ran down the suit tastefully, falling down his blazer and over his trousers. He even wore a matching cap, a fedora which held his raven black hair in check. The Dark Side of The Force was with him, keeping him hidden for any who may search him out. The ship's landing ramp was already raised and he had no intention of changing that. Instead he glanced over the ship before staring at the viewport.

His movements were like paper being thrown into the air. Soft and silent he leaped up, towards the viewport. Just as he was about to impact the glasteel he raised a single hand. The glass which should have been as solid as a rock was now like liquid, bending against the pressure of his palm. He pushed through and in the next moment the glass parted to allow him access to the ship.

Reptilian skinned shoes stepped in just as the Exarch exhaled. He had been carrying a long black box underneath his arms and it was certainly a pain to get it through the glass. Yet as he looked back to the glasteel, it was apparent it was completely undamaged and had returned to it's own form. Extraordinary, the power of The Force. Darth Malphas moved through the ship until he had reached the main hall. In a single moment the cloak around him was dropped. His presence, that of shadows and darkness, spilled into the ship with a silent scream echoing out into The Force. If [member="Kyrinov"] was here there would be no way for him to ignore such a thing. If he did, he was not as worthy as the Exarch may have believed.

 

[Kyrinov]

The Emulous​

After Midnight​

[member="Adron Malvern"]​

​

​

He been sound asleep inside his quarters. In a smaller spaceport such as this one, he could afford to rest easy here. There wasn't much traffic, even in the day. The quiet of the area was what made him send his pilot home this time around. He'd flown out among the stars alone for the first time in years. It was a welcome journey, he had time to himself to repair his mind and look after his possessions.

He wore his leather armor, without the metal guards and additions to weigh him down. Either way, he was intentionally and perfectly uncomfortable lying down. Just the way he preferred it. If he was uncomfortable, he would not sleep heavily. This served to make sure that he could awaken should someone somehow get into his hip unwarranted. Even in a spaceport hangar like this one, one could never be too cautious or prepared for a little surprise here and there. Though, unfortunately, the Knight loathed surprises. Thus, he slept safe and secure in the cold of the personal chamber.

As it was with every night, he had the same dream. In the cool air of the night, an inferno blazed - roared - into existence within his mind's eye. He became as a boy again, running as flames licked at his heels. Hellish screams filling his ears until they rang, unbearably loud. A piercing laugh cut through all of it. A single, horrifying chuckle to haunt him eternally. Always, Kyrinov woke up in a cold sweat. His hair, slick and stuck to his brow from the moisture. His breath coming in pants as he jolted back to reality.
Always, there was the number.

451.

However, he'd learned this trick. If you do something over and over again, it will lose all significance. If you watch a sunset over and over, one day it will only be 6 pm. If all you do is wake up, wake up, wake up, one day you will forget why. And so, it was on this basis that the boy let the nightmare run its course. Over time, it did indeed lose its meaning. Now, it did not even phase him.

Tonight was no different. The dream came and nearly passed. But, there was a disturbance that caused him alarm. He sat upright and placed his feet on the floor, a hand reaching to the wall behind him to release Amnesia, his sword, from her resting place on the shelf. He stood up, a scream echoing to him through the Force. Whoever was aboard his ship was powerful enough in the Force to project a sliver of fear in the man, this did not normally happen. He stalked towards the door, opening himself to the Force slowly, letting it swell inside of his being. Kyrinov stepped out into the dim hallway and there stood a lone figure. He did not recognize the Force signature that followed the shadowed man nor could he clearly see the man's face.

The Knight remembered something Darth Metus told him during their first meeting. The Galaxy oft strikes before asking. He would act accordingly. A moment more and he was a blur, covering the distance in a single lunge. Amnesia made a deadly arc overhead aimed towards the man's neck, looking to cut into the left side if this intruder didn't respond in time to save himself.

 

[Adron Malvern]

The Force was his sword, it was his shield, it was his partner, his slave, and his master. Darth Malphas could hear the softest of footsteps moving through the ship. The Dark Side of the Force shimmered as he felt another man tap into it, command it with a skill that was nothing to bat an eye at. Malphas reached out into the endless nether of the Force, calling for information, insight. He could feel the worry, no...it was not so frantic it was worry, it was caution. Appropriate considering the events that were transpiring. Adron should have called out to the man, warn him of who he was about to strike out to. Instead his thin lips were drawn into a partial smile. Over his shoulder he could see the man move into the hallway. His lunge was flawless, deadly, and as the blade swept over Adron he knew if he had not been expecting an attack he would have been in a particularly bad situation. However, the Dark Lord had expect this attack and was already prepared for it.

As that blade flew through the air it was met with an invisible hand. An iron tight grip would wrap around the length of the blade, fueled by the power of the Dark Side. Adron's smile deepened a bit as his now outstretched hand twitched ever so slightly.

He is a powerful one. The Exarch mused before turning to face the man who had attempted to cleave him in two.

"Good evening." In the next moment a violent shift in the Dark Side of the Force would occur. The air would shift as the blast of kinetic energy flew out to slam into Kyrinov, intended to send both him and his sword flying away from the Dark Lord. The ship would rock and sway for a moment as the landing gear gave off slight screeches from the unexpected shift in pressure. From the mess of noise and clamor a single sound would echo through out the ship. A single, clear, potent laugh. Adron held a hand up to his chin, letting his almost melodic laugh flow for a moment until it died out into a simple chuckle. "That was rather unpleasant, don't do it again." The Exarch's hat had flown off due to the repulse he sent out and now his features were clear for the Knight to see. However, he did not want to repeat the actions that had just happened, because he would only disarm the Knight once. A second attack would completely shift the flow of this evening.

His hand passed over a nearby control terminal, activating the lights in the hall and bringing the two Sith under illumination. "I don't suppose you have something to drink do you?" Adron assumed the man knew who he was. Why would he not? There were three people in command of The Confederacy and Adron was one of them. Yet it would still not matter if the Sith did not recognize him, his mission was all the same.

Adron turned out of the hall and into the next room, looking for somewhere appropriate for the two to have a little chat. "Wonderful place you have here." He called out as he took a seat in the next room, setting the box down on the floor beside him.
[member="Kyrinov"]

 

[Kyrinov]

The sword's path was certain and she would come down true and brutal in sheer force. Amnesia would taste blood again and rid the Sith of an unwanted trespasser that likely posed a threat to his life. This was not to be, he was stopped in her tracks by some invisible force as easily as she cut through the air towards this man. She was frozen in place, locked in the grip of the Force. There was no escaping this. There was no change in hand position or tug of strength or amount of willpower would break the hold. The man turned to face him, the hat he wore, obstructing a clear view of his features.

A push and he flew. Hurled backwards by what felt like a punch to his entire body. He found him pushed back into the wall a mere fifteen feet behind him. He almost missed the ill-placed greeting of the intruder. The impact stung and knocked the wind from his body, the sword flying from his hand and into the doorway of his personal quarters. He stood slowly to his feet, regaining his balance and his wind with several deep breaths. A laugh reverberated to his ears, easily heard. Though, it was understood that the sound was projected from the man in front of him. Vaugely, but understood nonetheless. The Epicanthix made no move to attack a second time and he had no effort to retrieve his weapon. Still, his cautious nature peaked as the man requested a drink.

He didn't keep much alcohol on board The Emulous. What he did have wa-

Kyrinov took a second look at the man in front of him, the light in the hallway now displaying his features fully. He was sharply dressed and he was quite decent looking. His eyes held a mischievous, even playful, light within them. But, immediately, this intruder transformed into an Exarch. One of two who held power and authority over the Confederacy as a whole, directly beneath the authority of the Vicelord. His name, Adron Malvern.

For a few moments, he wondered why an Exarch was on his ship, of all of the Confederates out among the stars. Why had he chosen to see Kyrinov? Why in the dead of night while he was sleeping?

The rhetorical questions vanished as he realized he hadn't provided an answer to the man. As he was about to answer, he saw the Exarch turn and make himself comfortable, finding a comfortable seat on the couch.

"Thank you. I have a case of Raava if that's something you'd like."

A pause to give him room to answer if he'd like a drink.

"What brings you here, Exarch?" He didn't like to beat around bushes much, if at all.

[member="Adron Malvern"]​

 

[Adron Malvern]

The Exarch had found a rather comfortable couch to lounge on. As he sat with an arm extended out over the back of the sofa his hand was extended out towards Kyrinov. It was apparent the Exarch was tapping into The Force, but there was no explanation as to why. Silently he would watch as his hat flew past the young Sith and was caught by his hand. Dusting off a small layer of dust he tossed the fedora onto the couch before gesturing to a seat across from him. "Raava would be perfect, actually." He said, with a rather charming smile. The Exarch was in a particularly good mood or at least he certainly made it seem that way. Kyrinov was direct in his questioning about The Exarch's appearance. It was to be expected, the Sith had never even seen Adron before and it was not like he was exactly known for his house calls.

"Please." After Kyrinov had fetched their drink for the evening, Adron would hold a hand out to the seat across from him. It was so agitating for people to stand while he sat. Much easier if the man would take a seat. Once the Epicanthix sat, the Exarch would gaze at him with a certain expression. Searching and charming it would be well founded in consideration. Finally the man would break the silence, leaning back into the couch as he brushed a hand over his chin. "You are an interesting one." He said, running his fingers over his chin with a certain smirk. Not wishing to extend this meeting any more than need be.

The Exarch pulled the black case into his lap, speaking plainly as he did. There was no mistaking the amusement in his tone, yet there was something else there as well. Something a little deeper than pure amusement. The case was covered in thick leather straps, each one with a noticeable seal on it. As Adron brushed a hand over one of the seals they would all begin to glow a deep shade of azure. As they gave off a shimmering blue light, Adron's smile seemed to turn into a smirk. "I have been looking for someone. Someone with a very particular presence in The Force and a unique.....Will." The Exarch began to work the leather straps, releasing them one after another until his hand rested on the final one. "What is in this case is a gift. A thing Sith do not often give our, a thing I do not often give out."

"For the right person it can amplify their power, increase their strength, and even give them a deeper grasp on The Dark Side." Adron showed that smile that he felt he could often be famous for if he so wished. "The wrong person will be destroyed. Mind, body, and soul they will cease to be."

"I believe you are the right person." Adron said, finally unclasping the last strap and bracing his hands over the chest. "In a way this as just as much a curse as a gift." Adron chuckled, before locking his eyes on the man before him. "So I suppose I came here to ask you a question."

"Will you take this curse?"
[member="Kyrinov"]

 

[Kyrinov]

Raava would be perfect.

Lovely, he thought. He excused himself and went downstairs to get twos bottle of Raava from the cargo hold, one for each of the men. The only real reason it was kept down there was because it was colder below the main deck. He found that he personally preferred the drink when it was chilled. He wasn't exactly sure if his... guest would agree with his sentiments, but there was only one true way to find the answer he sought. That was by giving the Exarch some of the cold drink. Within a few minutes, he returned to the seating area and handed a bottle to Adron, already open. He took a swig from his own bottle and sat down when bade by the charming man. As he sat down, he saw the man's fedora sitting on the couch. When had it been retrieved and how did he somehow miss it? Well, no matter. There was a question posed by him and he sought the answer to it first and foremost so he would not divert or interrupt the budding conversation to ask a likely ridiculous question.

The pale man reclined easily, finding that the Exarch's eyes were on him. He didn't like feeling like he was being stared at. There was something in this stare however, a curiosity that shone past the man's former mischievous gaze. It was clear from his eyes movement that he was searching for something in the young man, either externally or internally. Perhaps both. The silence, unlike the rather invasive stare, was broken by the Exarch first.

You are an interesting one.

Why, yes. Yes, he was. Even, he agreed with that sentiment. Though, he was not sure what manner the Exarch meant the statement in. He assumed it was with a good intent behind it. The man beside him picked up the black box that had previously been on the floor. Kyrinov saw the container as well, though, refrained from asking any side questions to distract from the main focus of the conversation. A hand grazed gently over the matching obsidian straps that bound the box shut. They glowed a marvelous blue, casting their color onto anything in the immediate area. He watched, slightly mesmerized and fascinated by the light show.

A gift, he said.

How odd.

But, of course, there was a downside to this mysterious gift. "The wrong person will be destroyed. Mind, body, and soul they will cease to be."

A gift to destroy all a being is. That which could likely strike at any given moment. Exarch Malvern did state that it required one with a unique will and, in turn, a strong mind. Luckily for his own sake, the battle of the mind was one of Kyrinov's specialties. His mind was strong and he liked to think that he'd built up a strong will as well. The Knight supposed he would find out soon enough. This so-called "gift" was now something to be controlled, something to be tamed. Something needed to be conquered, dominated, and brought to heel. It would test him. If he failed, he would be killed, or worse, driven into the very thing he reflected onto other unfortunate souls: insanity. Though, it seemed that, somehow, the Exarch saw in him what he could only hope was within him. He reasoned that if one of the reigning Sith Lords in the Confederacy deemed him worthy and capable of handling such a "gift", he'd come to terms and believe also.

Their eyes locked onto each simultaneously, ice gripped around steel. A simple question was asked of the young Epicanthix. "Will you take this curse?" He did not waste any time. To waste time was to waste potential skill and knowledge that could have been gained had he made up his mind. The boy was certain of himself, sure of his abilities to maintain and upkeep both the gift and himself. He downed the last sip of his first bottle of Raava.

Thus, a simple nod became the Exarch's answer.

[member="Adron Malvern"]​

 

[Adron Malvern]

A deep smile began to bleed through Adron as he began to open the case in his lap. As he opened the chest the Dark Side spilled out into the room, threatening to overpower any sense of joy or positive emotion. The cold chill that crept up Adron's spine was familiar, an unfortunate byproduct of the blade he had forged. Raising the case for Kyrinov to see, it would appear as a blade. The hilt was made of a brilliant wood that was soft and seemed to shine like obsidian. The hilt had an odd design, as the crossguards appeared to be two horns that angled back toward's the pommel. The blade it self was a brilliant metal, obviously Phrik but it seemed to have the faintest white hue. If someone was not entirely sure they would likely believe they had just imagined the shift in light around the blade. Running down the length of the blade were three, barely noticeable, runes. Each one was an unintelligible swirl with a star set in the middle.

The blade laid on a bed of satin and appeared unblemished, unused. As the Exarch dropped the case, the blade would remain, unmoving. Slowly he would pull the case from under this sword, revealing he had a telekenetic hold over the sword itself. His free hand was raised, hovering a few inches away from his creation. "There is an inscription I wrote on the pommel but it's almost too small to read and is written in an ancient Sith dialect. It reads, He whoever wields this blade will take on burden eternal matched only by power uncovered. Yet if they prove weak of will or spirit then they will have only a twisted fate." The blade hovered towards Kyrinov as Adron clasped his hands behind his back.

"I'm not going to lie. The first time the blade bonds with you is....Uncomfortable. I'd prepare yourself." Twisted Fate would linger a few inches from Kyrinov. It had a presence in the Force that was more akin to a person than a weapon of power. In fact, if Kyrinov pressed hard enough, he would hear the low voice of Twisted Fate calling out to him.

[member="Kyrinov"]

 

[Kyrinov]

He carefully leaned forward to inspect the sword that was presented. From the moment the veil lid was moved to reveal the weapon, a cold swept through the room and through the Knight. It persisted and lingered though soon felt right, as if the sensation were an old friend of theirs. The only thing that was unnatural about the weapon's cold cape was the eerie sense of fear and panic that it projected into the man. It was, initially, uncomfortable. Though, it became almost laughable for him. He'd felt these emotions before, not personally, but through some subjects in the past. The sword itself was quite unique, excellent craftsmanship. The feature that stuck out the most to him was the crossguard of horns and the metal of the blade. The coloring was odd but it was absolutely stunning.

His eyes flicked up from the weapon for a moment as Exarch Malvern spoke of the inscription that warned of the danger of wielding such a sword. A repeat of what was stated to him earlier. The weapon levitated, floated slowly towards Kyrinov during this bit of information. Kyrinov reached out, towards the sword and its notable Force presence. It whispered for him, beckoning him closer and closer towards obtaining it, of being in command of the power it possessed.

He seized it, the sword floating into his pale iron grip. He did not hear Malvern's warning to prepare. Thus, the initial shock of the weapon invading his entire person was tremendous. His body jerked back slightly on the outside. His eyes lost focus and glazed over, as though he were in a trance of some kind. He did not move nor did he seem to breathe.

Internally, however, a war waged. At first, he seemed to be losing. The sword plunged into his core, wrapping itself around each individual organ, deliberate and firm. He could physically feel the energy that swept into and through him, threatening to tear him apart if he didn't somehow maintain his own conscious and independent will. It was agonizing, the grip inside of his core and engulfing his heart. If one could see undernath the leather armor he wore, thousands of tiny black veins would be seen as the energy coursed through him, painting even up his neck and into the paleness of his face. It ravaged his mind, exponentially increasing the fear, panic, and dread the young Knight felt. The sword called forth his worst memories, already testing his strength as it bonded with him. It was like a snake, the way it crawled and sized him up.

A memory of his burning home was summoned again, only this time the years of fear and utter denial were broken, shattered into millions of pieces as fear became his only constant. He shook outwardly, scratching slightly at the couch. He was a boy again, the smell of smoke thick and flames licking at his heels as he fled his room. Screams shrieking into the dark of night, carrying out to the stars as his mother and father are cut down and left to burn with their small home. In his memory, he ran. He sought to run from this thing too but that would only satisfy it, prove that he was not quite as worthy as was first perceived. He screamed mutely, hands shooting up to grasp his short alabaster hair, yet the sound was only deafening within the recesses of his mind. The tides turned and, once again, fear become the motivation and drive that propelled him. Tamed, now, he reversed the situation. Mentally, he relaxed, allowed the energy to flow and fill him. Kyrinov felt it surge inside of him, settle as if it could sense that he was whole again, that he was in control now.

The veins faded, recessed and vanished altogether. His mind calmed, fear and dread and panic dissipated until it was naught but another bad memory. His muscles relaxed, heart pumped steadily as he took slow, deep breaths. Everything was as it ought to be and, now, the sword was truly his. It tested him and found him to be suitable, confirming Adron's hopes in the Epicanthix.

He looked up at the Exarch, testing the weight of the blade in his hand for the first time.

The Knight spoke only a few words in the Sith tongue. "Sis, kian, sekleti pasuo salini."

This, too, shall pass away.

[member="Adron Malvern"]​

 

[Adron Malvern]

The Dark Side was a vicious tool that would rip apart those unworthy. As Kyrinov felt the pain of Twisted Fate bonding with him the Exarch watched closely. His hand was opened to the man, keeping an eye on him as the blade threatened to take him over. If Kyrinov could not defeat this blade then Adron would destroy him here and now. In the next moment the Exarch watched as Kyrinov's veins turned a deep shade of black. It was as if his veins had been filled with some type of thick oil.

In time those black veins would subside to below the Sith's skin. It was quickly becoming obvious that Twisted Fate would not be able to take the Sith's body. No, it was not attepting to any further, it had bonded with the man. Rather than speak, Adron could not help but let out a brief chuckle as he listened to the man's words. This, too, shall pass away? No. This pain would be eternal and the Sith would be granted power for it. Was the power worth such a hell? Perhaps, but it was not for Adron to know.

The Exarch placed his fedora back over his black hair, still letting out a small laugh as he looked to the Sith. "Well done." As the Exarch downed the rest of the drink that was poured for him he could not help but show an all too pleased smirk.

"This blade is yours now. It is a part of you but it will not hesitate to destroy you." It would appear as if the room was beginning to darken. The shadows expanded and wrapped around every piece of the room, choking out any sign of light. These shadows would slowly crawl up the Exarch's form and swallow him away. "Remember....This is your Twisted Fate." The shadows consumed the Exarch's form and when they subsided the Sith Lord would have vanished from sight. Every sign of his visit will have seemingly disappeared, even the drink thaty Kyrinov had fetched would be returned to it's proper place and seemingly unopened. The only sign of Adron's visit was the sword that was held by the Sith Knight.

[member="Kyrinov"]