Zaiden Dean
The Stealth Master
Ancient Sith..true real Sith works, nothing fake nor mimicking about it. The scroll was authentic, and this bore a problem. For it was a scroll, it wasn't just some simple love letter, or a message among friends. No, this was a Sith Spell. Not an overtly powerful one, but as with all Spells, it could kill. How did he come about this? It is so old, yet so well kept. Hell last Zane had heard of the scroll, it was held by the Imperials. Now it's just floating about in circulation?
Many who heard of such deeds would fear revealing it to another, but @[member="Zaiden James-Greyson"] had heard of and knew quite well the Sithling Knight, knew he had attempted Sith Rituals before hand. With failure being the finalized results. But none the less, the scroll was in an acquaintance's hands. Not even someone he truly knew; yes, yes, there was the backing of a hefty sum for a complete translation and transfer, but such an artifact could be worth near whatever Zane sought for it. It was a real Sith spell...
Rubbing his eyes with his massive hands, Zane thought it over. He could translate the words before him, easily for that matter as any he knew not prior would be learned through the use of the force, or he could sell the scroll and risk bringing the ruling Lord of Val'halla down upon himself. Either way he would have a multitude of surplus expendables...
Sighing then shaking his head, he realized the decision was made. He would translate it, and would even safely return it to it's rightful owner. Why? Chirodont wasn't sure. Maybe it was because Zaiden's stance in the galaxy. Yes, he may believe himself some worthless 'God' reborn, but the man was not evil. Least he did not put off the image.
Reaching for a lead pencil with a simple sheet of paper, Zane began the process. Symbol for symbol, word for word, he worked. But entirely his mind was not on the lettering etched into each sheet, it was on their meanings. The spell was simple, not even requiring an actual incantation nor hand gesture or any of the usual accompanying modifiers. All a user had to do was urge the darkness inside of himself - hatred, fury, sadness, loss - to the surface, infusing his aura with entirety of the stench. Any insects nearby would veer off any predetermined course in choice of avoiding the area, animals would do anything to stay away from the feeling of unease. But the main purpose for the black magics of the ancients was for sentient acts of aggression of course. To those of any sentient race, to come within the range of the attack would instantly begin to feel a deep sense of unease, combined with the urge to leave. Prolonged exposure can lead to stomach aches, vomiting, migraines, and death.
Going as absolutely into detail as he could, Chirodont knew that if he slipped in it's transcribed form, it could be bad for the caster. If he angered one whom ruled a planet such as Val'halla, he could look forward to a hefty army bearing down his neck. But as believed, the scroll posed no problem. Once or twice he was forced to meditate on the connections bore to him through birth, using his links to the force to make the symbols known to him. Before long he was finished and he pushed his chair back with a slight yawn.
Now that his job was complete, he began by checking his bank accounts, which were spread loosely amongst the vast cosmos. There was the pre determined amount spread about them, and as such Zane packed his things and headed for his ship. Once onboard he headed for Riflor. Sleep was his friend along the journey.
After dropping the items off at the location agreed upon, he left...
Many who heard of such deeds would fear revealing it to another, but @[member="Zaiden James-Greyson"] had heard of and knew quite well the Sithling Knight, knew he had attempted Sith Rituals before hand. With failure being the finalized results. But none the less, the scroll was in an acquaintance's hands. Not even someone he truly knew; yes, yes, there was the backing of a hefty sum for a complete translation and transfer, but such an artifact could be worth near whatever Zane sought for it. It was a real Sith spell...
Rubbing his eyes with his massive hands, Zane thought it over. He could translate the words before him, easily for that matter as any he knew not prior would be learned through the use of the force, or he could sell the scroll and risk bringing the ruling Lord of Val'halla down upon himself. Either way he would have a multitude of surplus expendables...
Sighing then shaking his head, he realized the decision was made. He would translate it, and would even safely return it to it's rightful owner. Why? Chirodont wasn't sure. Maybe it was because Zaiden's stance in the galaxy. Yes, he may believe himself some worthless 'God' reborn, but the man was not evil. Least he did not put off the image.
Reaching for a lead pencil with a simple sheet of paper, Zane began the process. Symbol for symbol, word for word, he worked. But entirely his mind was not on the lettering etched into each sheet, it was on their meanings. The spell was simple, not even requiring an actual incantation nor hand gesture or any of the usual accompanying modifiers. All a user had to do was urge the darkness inside of himself - hatred, fury, sadness, loss - to the surface, infusing his aura with entirety of the stench. Any insects nearby would veer off any predetermined course in choice of avoiding the area, animals would do anything to stay away from the feeling of unease. But the main purpose for the black magics of the ancients was for sentient acts of aggression of course. To those of any sentient race, to come within the range of the attack would instantly begin to feel a deep sense of unease, combined with the urge to leave. Prolonged exposure can lead to stomach aches, vomiting, migraines, and death.
Going as absolutely into detail as he could, Chirodont knew that if he slipped in it's transcribed form, it could be bad for the caster. If he angered one whom ruled a planet such as Val'halla, he could look forward to a hefty army bearing down his neck. But as believed, the scroll posed no problem. Once or twice he was forced to meditate on the connections bore to him through birth, using his links to the force to make the symbols known to him. Before long he was finished and he pushed his chair back with a slight yawn.
Now that his job was complete, he began by checking his bank accounts, which were spread loosely amongst the vast cosmos. There was the pre determined amount spread about them, and as such Zane packed his things and headed for his ship. Once onboard he headed for Riflor. Sleep was his friend along the journey.
After dropping the items off at the location agreed upon, he left...
