'til Kingdom Come

[Lief]

The Black Pyramid​

Deep Within the Dunes of Ankhypt​

​

How long had passed since she had found herself sinking into the sand in agony and exhaustion? Since she walked without consciousness into the snakepit, and fell before her God? She had not seen him since that fateful day, yet she knew she had not been forsaken. Far from it.

The tomb-like structure had seemingly come to life, braziers burned strange green flames, casting a sickly hue over the antechambers within the pyramid, incense rose into the air, and a sense of dread lingered throughout. Men and women, forcefully muted, shuffled through the halls, tending to one thing or another in unyielding servitude.

Maelasi barely noticed them anymore. They were lesser beings, they did not hold sensitivity to the Force, but they did their duties all the same.

The tomb-like room had been utterly transformed; it held within its core a raised dais, atop which a sandstone throne sat, inlaid with various hieroglyphs and Sith Runes... It seemed to glow in the unholy light. This chamber served as Maelasi's general haunt, she had not risen to the surface, walked within the sun, since the day she had first entered. There had been so much to do, yet it almost felt complete now.

Banners lined the walls behind the throne, lying limp. Their colour was brilliant, bright, even in the odd light which permeated the hall, and it was toward these tapestries in honour of her Deity that she was now faced, head bowed in respect. It did not matter how long it took for him to return, she would continue her unspoken work...

 

[Mythos]

He could not have lingered in Ankhypt... he needed to return to the galaxy and spread his power and tendrils of darkness before returning to the place of his unholy birth. The ship that entered the forgotten lands of Anhkypt was a Commenori transporter that held in it only a single passenger, The Lord of the Sith who had cheated death. The landing pad would be the sand and the few worthless souls who heralded hos retuen only lived to serve him. The ramp dropped and from its dark metallicn interior he emerged, black cloak overhead and eyes of yellow malice staring into the abyss that was the black pyramid. Every step he took was one more knee that bent yet he did not pay them any heed, his attention was to the work that yet needed to be finished... he had felt her call from across the galaxy.

Entering the black stoned halls, noticing the perfection that was to him this hall of dark and malicious, ritualistic temple he smiled beneath bis cloak.

There was silence, his very pressence was palpable as the dark side of the force rode around him like a whirlwind of chaos and death. Through the force he called to her, a melody sung by demons from beneath the world of Lego called her... The Chant of the Maelibus.

[member="Maelasi Eramar"]

 

[Lief]

Something in the air shifted. Down in the depths of the pyramid all outside sound was seemingly blocked out, she had not heard the approach of the ship, no... But she felt Him.

Even before he approached, even before she could look upon his form, she felt herself sink to her knees in unyielding servitude. Her head bowed, hands settling flat against the top of her thighs. There seemed to be a similar silent murmur through the Halls, and those around her who remained within the Tomb seemed to shrink back toward the shadowy walls, their fear was palpable even to she, in many ways she fed on it, it strengthened her bowed state.

It was then that the call truly struck her, and a tug formed at her chest, as though a chain had been wrapped around her and was now pulling her forth. She rose to her feet, each step she took unknown to her as she was led up toward where her God was waiting. When finally she was in his presence, when she could feel the grim scrutiny of his yellow gaze, she once again dropped to her knees, back bent toward his visage. She did not speak, she did not move, she simply waited.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

The black pyramid exhumed an aura that was of his own design, of his own creation yet it's perfection had not come from his hands... it had come from her. The servant that had given herself to him im soul and body and knelt before him as a mortal to a God. His eyes moved from her to her surroundings and quietly he approved. The work was not finished yet the foundation was there, the foundation was flawless in his eyes and his servant had done his will. "Rise..." He comanded, his voice not emerging from his lips yet rippling through the power of the dark side of the force like a whisper of shadows long forgotten.

"You have done well... it is now time to bring forth the last layer of this place..."

His hand would draw a line from her forehead to her chin and where his finger touched a line of red power would follow. It would hurt but it would dissipate, pain making her stronger and the force he imbued marking her as His.
[member="Maelasi Eramar"]

 

[Lief]

She did not move, not so much as an inch, in fact it would look as though she was not breathing at all, as he scrutinized first her, and then their surroundings. She could feel the very palpable fear, taste it on the air, of the other slaves and servants who fussed around the man-turned-God, yet from her own form there was nothing but pure reverence toward him

The single word uttered through the Force caused a shift in her, and in one practiced motion she rose to full height, not a single wasted action in the whole maneuver, no wasted energy. She kept her gaze down to the floor for several moments of respect, before finally lifting her head, gaze settling upon his. She had been taught to look at the person talking to her, to show respect but also keep her weaknesses locked behind her facade.

"Your will be done, Deus," her soft voice rang out, and when he reached toward her she straightened her form and did not shy away from his touch. Not even when the pain bristled along her face did she waver, though there was a subtle tightening of her jaw.

She could feel it... The mark. Even after the pain subsided the sensation lingered, and she could not help but once more bow her head toward him.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

He looked back and streched one hand to his ship at leasf one hundred yards away. He summoned the full might of his telekinetic strength to bring forth a cage inside his ship that housed a peculiar SithSpawn he was currently in care for. The cage slowly went out of the ship, through the people barking three distictive barks hauntingly and to those around it it would sound like barks coming from chaos itself. The cage floated through the entrance and Mythos willed it before his feet and with a flick of his wrist the pup sprawled out. Three heads, red and black body with what looked to be scars around him and if one payed attention for a prolonged period of time one would notice him grow... Mythos had cast a spell on him whi h when he channelled would age the pup at an unprecedented speed. The pup looked up at Maelasi and barked loud with it's middle head burping out a snall fireball. It's eyes without pupils stared in a glowing red before coming back to nuzzle befre Mythos' leg.

"Gather the slaves in the pit below, seal all the entrances..." His hand waved and the power of the darkside slamed all the vents and doors nearby as a powerful gust of wind blew all the candles away leaving the pyramid in darkness. The hound howled and it was then Mythos realized... the hound had no name...

"Name him..." He comanded, curious as to what his servant would chose for the sithspawn.
[member="Maelasi Eramar"]

 

[Lief]

The air stirred with all the unholy might of the Force which surrounded the man-turned-God, and in the moments which followed nobody seemed to stir, not even the cowardly whelps in the shadows. It was as though the Pyramid had become suspended in time, with only the Deity and the object he brought forth breaking its tremulous grasp.

She could feel her hairs begin to prickle and stand to attention along the back of her neck, minuscule things that warned of the horror approaching. A very small intake of breath was afforded to her, brought in through her nose and not yet exhaled. There was a power here, the same which had been present the day she had fallen within the sands and arisen anew.

When the creature came into her downcast view she could not help but stare on in wonderment at its cerberusian form... Truly she had never seen such a thing. She noted it as a tuk'ata, which had her all the more surprised, and the pulses of pure darkness it carried about itself could not be ignored. This was unnatural, yet she did not care, it held her attention, filled with awe, and for half a moment she almost considered petting it. That was until it barked and produced a bolt of fire.

It was not fear which held her from it, then, but pure respect. Oh, if this thing continued to grow it would be a sight to behold indeed. Destroyer of Cities, Bane of Man. She tipped her head toward it, by way of greeting, before hearing what her God had to say. Her head turned first right, then left, and without a word the men and women who had been lingering peeled away from the walls and began to descend toward the pit which had been prepared in all its sacrilegious glory.

She herself had begun to turn, in a way that would not put her back to Mythos, when he spoke toward her once again. A name? The Three-Headed Wonder needed a name?

Without skipping a beat, she offered one from the annuls of her mind, a name which had all but fallen from the pages of history with the lack of true blooded Sith to keep it known.

"Typhojem, Deus," she offered, with the same quiet yet respectful tone of voice, her head bowing toward him, as the last of the slaves made their way into the lower chamber, seemingly of their own volition. Though one who paid enough attention would notice the brief swirling of the Force around the subservient woman.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

The small creature beside Mythos' heel now seemed very tender and playful because it was indeed a pup, a baby discovering the world around him... yet when he grew and matured he would dwarf even Groom his own Tuk'ata in both power, intelligence and size. His servant caused more and more curiosity in him as he observed her from head to toes intently. Her reverance and respect coupled with fear pleased him and ad the servants began to gather in the pit Mythos smiled to himself... there was the gate.

"An Excellent name" He said while walking beside her, the pup trailing behind him exitedly. He stood before the platform and awaited the slaves and feeble to wamder below one by one and would only continiue once they were all in the lower chamber... only below fhe pit.

"Tell me... What do you think is past the sealed gate beneath my Pyramid?" He asked, his eyes trailing to his hound as he chomped the flesh off a servants leg while he walked. The scream of pain and the sight of blood bringing a smile to his face, already the hound waa vicious and violent. He chuckled as he awaited her answer.

[member="Maelasi Eramar"]

 

[Lief]

She felt his eyes travel over her again, this time with more purpose than prior, and knew that she was being weighed, measured, so to speak. Once upon a time that might have bothered her, might have driven her to straighten herself - as though her posture was not already perfect - or worry over his judgement. Now, however, all of that pettiness was gone. None of it mattered in the grand scheme of things. It felt as though a veil had lifted, and she saw now the truth of it all.

He stepped to her side and made to walk, so without any further need to linger she stepped in tow beside him, on his left, ever so slightly back though by just a foot or two, to keep a respectful distance. The name seemed to be suitable, which was good; it was a fitting name for such a being, and she knew the pup would only grow further into it.

Once they stepped out of the entrance chamber the doors closed behind them, by unseen hands - though again a brief amount of darkness swirled around her during this time. No slaves lingered in there, or outside, all had made their way into the lower chamber, and now to the pit they began to venture. Each chamber, antechamber, corridor, they passed through, was sealed behind them by her unseen hand, until only the pit lay before them... And the sealed gate, of course.

She had pondered on its presence unintentionally since his absence. Contemplated what it could have been, why it was there; it was the only thing that had not been touched at all, she felt the corruption it radiated, knew it must have a purpose. His words gave her pause, and she knew that whatever it was, this was leading to it.

"Power, Deus," she responded, "The Unthinkable..." A very slight shiver ran over her as she finally stopped, and looked upon it, watching the slaves pile together in the pit. The sound of a scream cut through the air yet it did not seem to phase her even remotely, if anything she drew upon their pain as she had throughout all of this time.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

He gazed down into the pit and noticed that the slaves were crammed almost with no elbow room between them. The doors slamming behind them yet he knew there was no switch and no technological way to slam those doors in such a manner... he had not done it... he sensed the power in his servant. "The force grows strong with you..." He said ominously, his tone neither of approval nore disaproval.

"Gerak" He shouted to the pup, it's command to eat. The hound had a particular taste for well cooked meals and he preffered to cook himself. The pup leapt down into the pit and landed on a perch in the sealed gate itself thenbegan to roar... he needed help to cook such a large meal...

"That door was not built to keep us out... it was meant to keep something in." He said as he raised bis hand and began to gather the force around his hound.

"Focus on the flame... with me"

The hound opened it's jaws and a flame bursted out, fire bleching from his mouth and Mythos began to use the ability of Altering the Enviorment to amplify if little by little as it started consuming limbs and slowly entire beings.
[member="Maelasi Eramar"]

 

[Lief]

She felt no need to respond to his sudden observation, she was not looking for his approval, she was not afraid of his disapproval, everything she did - everything she had done since awakening at his feet - was to further his efforts, she was inconsequential in all of that, as disposable as the slaves who huddled close together, knocking elbows with one another. She felt oddly... At peace with that knowledge.

As they waited for the correct time to be at hand she settled both her hands to her back and allowed them to clasp together, stepping to the overlook which stood above the pit itself. A word was uttered, one she did not know the meaning of yet it seemed to inspire something in the pup. She watched from her peripheral, not bothering to turn her head to track his movements, as little Typhojem approached the compressed slaves and began to loose the flames she had caught glimpse of earlier. Terrifying though it might have been she did not wince, she did not shy away, she watched on curiously as though their forms were merely clay in a kiln.

Keep something in? She pondered on what that might have been as the deity by her side lifted his hand and directed her attentions back to the hound. While Maelasi did not know anything flame-specific, she turned her focus toward the Hound and in truth her God's own force presence, and began to boon both with her own. It was taxing, exhausting, it made the unseen line which traveled from forehead to chin burn and itch uncomfortably, but she did not falter. She did not pause.

Her eyes fixated back on the men and women who were burned, then torn limb from limb, under the might of the pup'. She watched him in amazement as he seemed to shift and change with each kill, each corpse devoured.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

Mythos' focus was set on the flickering flame that belched from the jaws of the hell hound. He used the power of the darkside of the force to influence the flames of the pup, enlarging it and expanding as if he was adding fuel to it. A whirlwind of fire began to consume the pit. Typhojem roared with each head, slowly and steadily the beast began to grow.

The essence of the souls that Typhojem inscinerated with his fire aided by Mythos began to be syphoned into the runes carved in the slabs of the pit. Once their flesh burned, alive in agony and pain as they crawled for screamed for their lives that is when Typhojem hoped off his perched and began to eat. One by one their helpless bodies began to try to escape but the beast devoured them one by one.

Mythos didin't miss a beat. Now the Lord of the sith lifted his hands to the pit and began to recite the incantations of the runes carved in the pit itself. His voice gradually became more and more loud and powerful and as he recited the incantation and the runes beneath the paws of Typhojem began to glow green. Each soul that left the body of a slave became trapped in the stone runes beneath and Mythos worked now to release them from the stone and channel their power into Typojem. He crushed his hand into a fist and bellowed the final words of power. The stone rune carvings in the flow began to rumble and crack. "Behold... a mere taste of my power... He shall become bane of life"

Mythos continiued the ritual, every moment that passed was another moment that he made the beast Typhojem grow. It was only a a matter of time when he grew to the size of a young adult.

 

[Lief]

She could hear the Ritual words as they were being spoken, though she could claim nothing short of ignorance when it came to their meaning or intent. It wasn't as though she had to know, either, she had her command: assist the tuk'ata. Her eyes closed, as she focused more and more upon the three-headed-hound's presence in the Force.

Truly the majesty of his being was beginning to show, as the create grew before their eyes with each additional bite of flesh he took, each life he ended with his flames. There was a buzz in the air, unseen forces shifting from the dead and drawn toward the Hound.

Screams continued to fill the air, more replacing those which were ultimately snuffed out, and from her side the girl's hands began to raise, as she channeled more and more of her own strength toward Typhojem. It was beginning to take its toll, sweat beaded on her brow, her arms trembled, but she did not cease. She would not appear weak in front of the man-turned-God.

She heard his words, though she did not respond, she was far too focused on the task at hand to make such meaningless conversation: his words were far from meaningless, however... They spoke of a prophetic truth. If she had ever doubted him - and she hadn't - this would have been more than enough evidence to the contrary.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

"Focus..." He said through his lips, both a command to his servant and a reminder to himself. The area had the stench of death and charred flesh as the beast ripped through the innocent slaves like they were no more than playthings. He was not killing and devouring them out of hunger anymore, he was doing it for fun. Seventeen lives had already left their bodies but their essence became trapped in the stones below. Mythos' task was shattering the stones with sorecery and funelling the souls into Typhojem one by one. It was a task that was incredibly challenging yet he knew how to do it. He knew how to use the power of the darkside in it's nost raw form and refine it through magic to then bend the essence of their force signatures to his will. It was like molding clay, pottery, he needed a gentle touch and deliberate precision.

The storm of fire now also became a storm of souls, an ethereal river of the essence of the victims that Mythos began to fuse with the fire. Blast after blast Mythos sent it into Typhojem in a blazing green light of magic than made him grow stronger and larger. Now the beast was nearing almost three feet tall but it was not enough... he needed more.

Mythos let out a roar, the power of the darkside of the force under his command entierly as he again from the begining began to recite the incantation. This time the stones becak to crack and break unleashing the essence they had absorbed one by one and then many at the same time. Only a few remained to kill and transfer. The floor began to quake, the air grew heavy with darkness so thick Mythos himself found it oppresive... "Not much longer now... keep going..."

 

[Lief]

At some point throughout the process, Maelasi had sunk to her knees. It wasn't so much that she was weak, or incapable of serving him, far from it - despite the fact she had visibly faltered, her presence in the Force continued to exude itself, continued to strengthen both her Master and the Hound - no... It was simply that the room had become so oppressive, so filled with corruption and the very core of the Darkside that it would have been impossible, dangerous even, to remain standing.

The cold of the ground proved enough to keep her conscious. Screams, the stench of death, the roar of the Hound's multiple heads, it all came together in a symphony of destruction, it was as though the grim reaper floated over top of the pit, pulling strings to make the puppets dance.

He spoke again, reminding her of the task of hand, his words fueling her further. She strengthened her stance there on the ground, both of her hands reached out, fingers splayed out for added support, even when the foundations began to tremble.

She could do this.

She had to do this.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

It was almost done, twenty nine lives had been slaughtered and only ten more remained but the beast being much larger amd stromger with each kill made the process go much faster. His right head crunching on bone, his left head blasting fire and his center head staring down a feeble soul so terrified and filled with fear the hound itself began to feed on it. Once the other two heads finished their actions the main head took controll and pounced on the slave, it's power bringing him down before one chomp brutally decapitated its victim.

It's tail was wagging, this was nothing more than playtime for Typhojem. Mythos on the other hand bent his knees as the power of the darkside of the force bore down on him, taxing him for every word of foul magic he uttered. Death lingered in the air and every passing second the power of the dark side of the force grew even more oppresive, standing was a challenge now to Mythos himself but he refused to relent... not when he was so close.

His throat began to bleed, his voice cracked and was hoarse from screaming at the top of his lungs. Blood barked from his lips, eyes bloodshot and bleeding from the pressure but still the Sith Lord did not belay his assault. He stretched out his arms and motioned with his hands as if choking the force and bending it to his will by force. Typhojem grew more and more, strength and power erroding from the aura around him as he killed the last of the slaves in a vicious assault. The beast began to bark and howl in pain but it was not enough to halt him, the dark side of the force began to stretch his limbs and bones in a terrifying speed.

"Yes... Yes! Grow my beast grow!" Mythos screamed, each word belching out a spit of blood. Now he charged forward, releasing his focus on the darkside of the force and barreling down to Typhojem with a purpouse. It was time to finalize the ritual...

 

[Lief]

Her skin began to pull tight, the more she focused, the more of herself she poured into the ritual. She could feel the corruption seeping through her as more and more chaos lingered around them, death and pain and screams and agony, there was not a lick of light remaining in this most unholy and corrupt of places, every piece of herself was being sapped, and tendrils of Bogan washed over her body, snatching at the pieces of humanity which she had managed to retain, dragging her further down the rabbit hole.

What a fool she had been, when she rejected the Force in favour of the military. She had not realized the power she could have held within her grasp, the possibilities which lay before her. Even now, even as so small and insignificant a piece of this rituals puzzle, she could feel it. The Darkside of the Force took, it ate away at you even as it strengthened you, latching on to all of the pieces it chipped away at, keeping you whole yet only so long as you reached for it.

Her back bent entirely then, as the ritual began to close, as the oppressive weight of the room fully bore down upon her; she was nothing in the presence of the full majesty of the Force, nothing in comparison to the Man-Turned-God who screamed overhead, she was simply a pawn in a much bigger game.

And then it seemed to stop. The screams were replaced by words torn from her Master's throat, and she felt his presence shift away as he approached the pit and the still-growing creature within. Her breathing was ragged, and yet she forced herself to look up, even in such a bowed state, uncertain if she could rise yet wanting nothing more than to assist him all the same.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

Mythos crashed down into the pit, his boots cracking the charred bodies that Typhojem had incinerated. The beast now stared him down, it challenged him, a growl escaped it's maws but Mythos walked forward without a shred of fear. Sith do not know fear. From his cloak he produced a dagger, the same dagger that had opened the womb of the mother of the beast and still was tainted in her blood. At the sight of the blade the beast became more violent towards him, it's shining edge menacingly pointed at him. Mythos took a stance of authority, giving his chest to the beast as a beast would another beast. He still was reeling from the over exertion of his use of the dark side of the force but he had no choice, he could not wait to rest and recuperate... if he did the beast would be uncontrollable and furthermore incapable of being manipulated by magik. He could not let that happen... this needed to happen now.

His blade turned, the edge pointing to himself and the act brought a confusing look from the middle head of Typhojem but the other two still snarled and drooled molten fire. He raised his hands and began to recite the final incantation of the ritual as he sliced his hand mixing the blood of the mother Tuk'ata. A green, visible fog of ethereal energy began to pour from his hand as he spoke, Typhojem began to approach as if to strike. Mythos locked eyes with it and closed the distance step by step. The beast lunged forward it's two maws to strike but Mythos was quicker and placed his palm in the forehead of the middle one.

As soon as his bloodied palm touched the forehead of the center head the two other heads sank their teeth into his shoulders and clamped down yet he did not relent. Through the pain of the bite he screamed words of power in the tongue of the maelibus. The maws relented but still stood in defiance as if resisting the powerful spell. With his free hand he cut the ear of the beast and the black blood began to drip upon when floor....

When the blood of Mythos, Typhojem and the mother Tuk'ata melded together in the floor a ring of sith rune magic began to form around Master and beast. The ritual's first stage was now complete and Typhojem stood in obedience to Mythos' will. "It is done" he said, knowing [member="Maelasi Eramar"] would hear his words loud and clear. "Come and behold the fruits of our labor..."​

 

[Lief]

There was not much to see from her odd vantage point.

Every so often one of the heads of Typhojem made themselves known to her, screeches and growls rose up through the air, and the ritualistic words of her Master joined them in their symphony. Her body trembled, and she forced herself forward, still not rising fully, to the edge of the pit; she could see them there, the hound and the God, locked in their spat. Jaws clamped against Mythos, hand pressed against Typhojem... It was madness.

Power swirled about the room then, and she watched as one of Typhojem's heads lost an ear. Blood met blood, and the power surged, she could feel tiny hairs stand to attention across her body, as though static had run over her.

She exhaled a breath, eyes widening in pure awe as the ground lit up with Sith Runes. Her body began to feel lighter, and the weight which had pressed down on her alleviated until she was once again on her feet, feet which moved of their own volition, carrying her down to where the God and his Beast stood.

It felt like an eternity before she reached them, and once there she sank down to her knees and bowed her head as low as she could, back bent in reverence. They were breathtaking, the both of them.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Mythos]

He stood before the beast. It's six eyes blazing into his like a symbiotic relationship of parasite and host. Mythos was not sure which one was which. The force bond between the two was strong but it was still yet from complete. One last thing still needed to be done, one last piece of the puzzle needed to be added to the mix to finalize what started. the soul of the innocent....

"is he not beautiful my servant of darkness...?" he asked to Maelasi, his bloodied hand petting the bleeding ear of the beats, both relishing in the pain that they shared, understand the damning corruption of the darkside of the force now that they, both master and beast, servant and rider had suffered the repulsive and oppressive power of the intoxicating dark side of the force. his heart beat faster and faster but it was not of adrenaline nor was it of fear from the jaws of the beast rather from the presence that still lingered between them as the alchemical process of evil was still far from calm. Sweat and blood mixed with tears and corpses as without a warning the beast let out a roar that shook the floor. "Rise My Servant... you have the strength to rise while by my side..."

He extended a hand towards his servant and imparted onto her some of his unbridled power that though taxed and a bit exhausted was far from depleted. He needed to rest now for a while, the rest could and would have to wait for the morrow or later. Mythos needed to eat and drink, perhaps even sleep if he was so lucky.
[member="Maelasi Eramar"]​