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MOLDINGS OF A GOD.

 

 

The abstracts of information that he devoured from the time of his release of one slave-master to another, was extraordinary. Somehow, his disconnected consciousness endured the importance of each word and each lesson. The temptation of power was a dire motivation that underlined how incapable he appeared in front of the others, and the impression that true freedom lay on the other side, was more than fuel for this shell of a man to push forward. Three had rested at last, his own quarters were tended to with the hands of servants who moved as he once did, who labored at the expense of another's whim. The idea was rich, but tempered with an unfamiliar remorse. He would ask little of them, food and slumber was all he wished for, and the expedition to another planet offered him that in abundance. The mirror was what he found himself in front of when a plate became empty, or rest was too much. Glass so reflective showed him the skin of what he was, a face chiseled and filled to health, a man with features unlike the others that surrounded him, but someone who still felt unacquainted. While he trained, and read in silence, the blue man would keep pace and offer hospitable fellowship— the two fell in sync quietly, as if each of them shared an equal determination. 

 

 

Three looked considerably different now, as if what he was now and what he had arrived as, was night and day. Signs of malnutrition had been washed out almost completely, with the darkness under his eyes revitalized and the shape of his physique looking more remarkable by the day. His thick snow-white hair had achieved quite some length, and was styled to fall just over his shoulders. His skin was as smooth as oil, still marred by the tracks of torture, but the bronze-kissed complexion of it spelled fair health. He could feel the tender draw of power between his fingers now, treated by an enigmatic fury inside of him that he had no answer for. He did not just look different, he was on all accounts. The quiet about him remained, and was as unflinching as steel. There was a measure of confidence when he walked now, rehabilitating the horrid posture he had stumbled onto the scene with, but he was humbled before Master Nyrys. This one was mercurial, her motives and actions untraceable as she lived them. Three found fascination in her dauntless command of people and things, and wondered most times if she had always been that way. There was an alarming danger that filled her face when she colluded with that man back on Cathar, but here and now she presented a quirkiness that could not be tamed.

 

 

“Apprentices, your favorite teacher is back!”

 

 

He stood from his seated studies, a book with no title and perhaps no end, paper that illustrated the magnitude of emotions in ways normally unimaginable. The secrets of these Sith were incredible. Three pulled himself from his distraction immediately as her voice fell on his attentive ears, he could never guess when she would appear from the shadows as she did. He stood tall with the comfort of his black robes. and shot a glance to his blue accomplice before staring towards the feet of Lady Nyrys and bowing deeply.

 

Edited by Exodus

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The attempt at manipulating the force left him drained for a span of roughly 36 hrs.  As his strength returned, he decided that studying while traveling would be his best option, as it so often was on his journeys.  As the days passed Three began to look more and more like a man and proved a quiet and devoted companion in the pursuit of the knowledge offered by the sith, no not “the sith” any longer.  Lady Nyrys, that was the appropriate title.  As this person had provide him with an entire new world of knowledge, she most assuredly deserved the title.

 

During the journey his life was simple, study the texts provided, practice drawing into himself and controlling small amounts of the force, and of course his standard physical meditation and training.  While he was unsure how much his martial skills would be called on initially, he saw no reason to slack off in maintaining them.  He was especially interested in the use of the force to effect living things.  He managed a few times to enhance his own physical strength though not immensely.  His studies began to lend themselves to the use of the force to manipulate not only his body but the bodies of others.

Would it be possible he wondered to create artificial vessels, perhaps even sentient creatures?  He wondered of such things and decided to throw his intellectual strength behind the pursuit of such things.  He was unsure what he would uncover but the manipulation of life and physical aspects intrigued him.  And his studies seemed to be bearing small fruit but fruit none the less. 

 

                                                                                             “Apprentices your favorite teacher is back!”

 

Releasing the small thread of force, he had practiced maintaining while studying the texts he was interested in he rose to his feet.  Seeing also stand and bow to the lady as she entered the room brought a small smirk to his face.  That man was still an enigma to him but was proving a devout seeker of knowledge, which of course made him an ideal associate.  Turning then to the Dark Lady he bowed deeply, “It is an honor to see you again Darth Nyrys.”

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“Well look at you, my dear apprentice, you’ve filled out quite nicely with the proper care and sustenance. I’m thrilled to see you finding your health again despite the state that you were in when you first were sent to me. Not everyone could bounce back from that like you did. I’m proud of you.”

 

Just like parents would affect how children would raise their own offspring, Darth Nyrys’s training was affecting how she would train her own apprentices. She certainly knew the value of harsh treatment, but she felt like there was little she could do to top what he had been through. Better to take the pieces and reassemble them into what best suited her needs. And if kindness and support bolstered his loyalty to her even better. “Goodness” could be pragmatic, and faithful allies were priceless in the world of the Sith.

 

Lately 03 had seemed reserved but polite, mindful of the servants that tended to him. You never knew with slaves, sometimes their pasts would grant them great empathy towards others, and other times they would transform into the monsters they once served to prove to themselves that they had finally gotten out from under. But the softness with which 03 moved and acted could not wipe away the rage she had seen when he fought. He was like a pressurized inferno inside a teddy bear.

 

“I will be working with you next on exploring the properties of transference and energy, in particular, life force and thermodynamics. I think it will compliment your style well, and it’s something I have a great deal of experience in. Drago, I have some scrolls and tomes for you to begin studying biomancy from. It should be a smoother transition from scientific perspective than some of the more esoteric sorceries. Not to mention less likely to cause an untimely death.”

 

Drago was a quick study and rapacious reader, the kind of student that studied for the sake of knowledge rather than to achieve a specific purpose. He had less of a raw connection to the Dark Side than 03, but his mind could leverage that connection to his own form of greatness with the right education. With how much the initial training had drained him, laboratory work would allow him time to build up his core reservoir without allowing his intake of knowledge to stall out.

 

It was said that the Dark Lord had an affinity for the Dark Side monstrosities that roamed Onderon, cultivating a sorcerer that could create new dark wonders for him was a political investment. Furthermore, a skilled biomancer could turn even the most meek into a serious combat asset, and the Dark Lord would need troops for the coming campaign.

 

“Often we speak of the Force as a distinct entity that exists as its own form of energy, but I think that is inaccurate to some degree. I think that the Force is more like a spiritual neuronet and medium that allows us to interact with and manipulate all of the energies and physical laws of existence. In all of my studies, I’ve never seen the Force exist in a vacuum as a power source, it’s always facilitating the transfer or consumption of other energies. For us Sith, most commonly that is emotion and sensation, along with the echoes of past wrongs. The Jedi seem to draw on whatever surplus energy exists naturally. They would be comical in choosing to be janitors over being gods if not for their penchant for the genocide of anyone that disagrees with them. Anyway, manipulating energy. Once you realize this basic truth, you can begin to explore ways to transfer, disperse, or excite energies of various types through the Force.

 

I was brought into the galaxy through Sith alchemy, my parents were incompatible species but they wanted a child together, so one of them made it happen through alchemy and genetic science. I was often sick growing up, and myself and others always just assumed it was because I was a hybrid and that came with medical issues. Upon joining the Sith, it became apparent that my body needed to take the life force of others to correct an internal deficit. My first “feedings” were chaotic and brutal, and I remember very little of them, but they led to the first time in my life that I felt truly healthy.

 

The process should be less uncontrolled for you to learn, since you aren’t going off of instinct and desperation. Also, since we’re on foreign soil as diplomatic representatives, I want you to start with practicing the manipulation of thermodynamics, we can use that as a lead in to vital energies later. Remember that thermodynamics isn’t heat and cold, rather movement and stillness of particles. Once we have better access to living subjects we can work on the transfer of living energy through strikes. Striking an enemy is a display of force, and force is the root of which all other authorities are derived. The Force acknowledges this most primal form of conquest, and allows a trained warrior to use it to lay claim to the life energies of others. With practice and discipline, you will be able to sustain your fighting style with the vitality of those that would oppose you.

 

I have one of the valets out and about to retrieve a cut of rail meat for you to practice on. It will be similar to punching a person and also react comparably to any heat changes. In between practice sessions we will work together on crafting your first set of armor. I will provide the materials but whatever you complete will belong to you.

 

Drago, I want you to read through the teachings of Morth Senizen, Kos Vellator’s saga of Korlioth, this surgical case file from the records of Darth Visector during his Alabaster Church period of work, and this treatise by Darth Mellisidae on a theoretical Sithspawn biome that could sustain itself through parasitic interactions with neighboring areas. Then I want you to decide if you want to pursue viral, alchemical, surgical, or parasitic methods of Sithspawn creation, and speculate on three morphologies you think would be of value to create.

 

Once you have a theoretical foundation to work off of, we can move to laboratory experiments, although if you choose virals as your preferred vector we’ll need to have access to a proper clean room. I’ve read some particularly gruesome horror stories about biological agents that weren’t properly contained and got out."    

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"I'm proud of you."

 

 

Those words, and the ones that came before it. There was a persuasion about them. The root of his heart stemmed and felt alive. Three was still bowed as the words loosened from her mouth, and an emotion he did not remember, overwhelmed him whole. He did not move, and would not dare to lift his head and meet the face of the woman who spoke them. He was, by the entire definition of the word, speechless. There was a sliver of jubilation and accomplishment that sprouted inside of him, and the inspired run of emotion made it difficult to swallow. He had no means to respond to her, and perhaps she knew this better than he did. He kept his face low nonetheless, still cradled in respect to the powerful woman, distracting himself from thinking he had to say something in return. In spite of how incapable he was when it came to expression, the touch of a compliment was a piece of euphoria, almost as splendid as battle was. 

 

 

"Thermodynamics? Heat and Cold. Movement and Stillness."

 

 

Three continued to listen, sheathing his hidden bewilderment. There were things she spoke of, in which had never crossed his ears before. These were foreign concepts to him, but to her, they were measured phenomenons that she could control at her whim. Her intelligence was diametric to the crude drunkard slave-masters he was accustomed to, and her confidence was much more becoming because of it. There were moments he wished to question just what she meant; the feeding, the Jedi, the Force—but there was an apprehension and uneasiness that rattled loudly inside of his brain whenever the idea came to him. Anxiousness rotted him through, for he had no inclination of why he was here or who he was to be here in front of these strange folk. He would listen nevertheless, taking whatever she said at face value, and following instruction to avoid his assured demise as long as he could. There was a peculiar emanation that bled from her presence, and even that of her speech, one that he felt compelled to follow and not forced like the others. Time would tell where that lead him in this life, perhaps the secrets buried inside of his mind would be found after all.

 

 

"...Master." the denomination came out as confirmation, and not question. Three wasn't even aware that he spoke the word out loud, yet he stood now, proudly.

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The texts provided by the Sith were interesting reads.  It was a way of looking at a biological system in a way he had never imagined.  Adding the use of the force as well as advanced biochemical and medical techniques the possibility of creating an army of servants was real.  He couldn’t put the texts down and even began accumulating notes on the possible beginning of his own version of spawn.  Imagine creating creatures whose sole purpose was to serve and assist him and the Sith lord before him in endeavors including in his mind the gathering of information.

 

As he studied the texts provided, he began to realize that he was sleeping less and so focused on the texts that he even began ignoring the basic interactions of the servants on the ship.  He couldn’t put them aside.  It was all to grand of an idea and the knowledge, oh the knowledge.  These books and tomes were providing more information in a few days then he had gathered in the past few years.  He couldn’t even fathom how to repay the Sith, she had tapped his most primal urge, an urge to learn and to know all the secrets that life had to offer, and in this case the creation of life.

 

He knew what he had to do to repay the lady that had given him the gift of such knowledge.  He had never considered something of this nature before, but it seemed the best way to continue to gain knowledge.    Begrudgingly tearing himself away from the tomes he made an effort to be presentable, putting on his finest suit of clothes after bathing and making all the appropriate corrections to his hair.  Taking his sword and strapping it at his waist he moved through the ship to the Sith’s room.  Knocking he awaited permission to enter.    Upon entering without any preamble, he knelt drawing his sword in one fluid motion.  Presenting it to the Sith, no to Darth Nyrys, he looked up and said only seven words.  “What would you have of me Master?”

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At first there was a moment of internal doubt upon hearing 03’s spoken word, or more specifically the emotion behind the word. Most days she barely felt like she had a full grasp on all matters Sith, and yet here was someone genuinely responding to her as an authority figure. It would have been even more disorienting if she hadn’t been cautioned about impostor syndrome at uni. It was a common issue in academia, the feeling that you were not the person that others saw you as. While Ailbasí had always sought the attention and approval of others to combat her feelings of insecurity and estrangement to the world, she had never achieved any sort of lasting validation or acceptance. Even with her closest friends at uni she would sometimes feel less connected than everyone else in the group, or question if they included her out of pity.

 

But that girl was dead and gone. Literally.

 

Out of that womb of suffocating fear and depression was born a beautiful and terrible monster, informed by Ailbasí’s past but not shackled to it. Where Ailbasí had failed, Darth Nyrys would rise above. She may not have full mastery of the Dark Side yet, but it does serve her will and passion like a Lady is served by her supplicants. Ailbasí would have second guessed the show of support, stuttered out a line or two sheepishly while blushing, and continued to perpetuate her own self defeating perceptions. Darth Nyrys saw it as a seed for something greater. She now possessed the power and charisma to inspire others to follow her lead. It was no longer about finding her own worth, it was about testing her worth against newfound ambitions, and grooming others to find their strength under her banner.

 

“03, I don’t believe we ever discussed the nature of our relationship during your education under me. The Sith use the terms master and apprentice in reference to the mastery of the Dark Side and an individual who seeks to obtain that knowledge. But it’s so much more than that. Both Drago and you are essentially inheritors to my legacy, truer heirs than even my blood descendants, should I choose to have any.”

 

Darth Nyrys put one hand on 03’s cheek and the other on his shoulder. There was a traditional laundry list of emotions and concepts associated with the Dark Side, anger, fear, lust, death, war, and so on, but the darkness was so much more than that. Family, for instance was in truth the selfish desire to see your own line succeed beyond all others. It was family that she invoked now as she laid hands on him. She had even considered adopting familial titles for her line, but apparently that was already a Krath sorcerer thing.

 

“You are as a son to me, and I will guide you as the mother that remade you in darkness to be whole again. You have suffered greatly before you came to me, but I promise you that through my teachings that tribulation will be repaid sevenfold in fortune and glory. And one day, when you are ready, you will stand where I have stood, and offer a greater existence to someone you know deserves it.

 

So trust me. Confide in me. Above all else, learn from me. I won’t judge you for what questions you ask, only for what you fail because you did not ask. If you really don’t feel comfortable asking me about something, you can always ask Drago. He bolstered you at your weakest when he could have used the opportunity to establish dominance. Perhaps in time you will be able to offer him the same protection in return. For now though, I want you to think of all of the questions you want to ask me. Then do a couple of sets of fast punches and heavy punches. And then try to think of more questions, and so on and so forth. While you do that I am going to work on a gambeson for you, a token of favor from your Lady and a sign that the Sith Empire proudly acknowledges you as their own.”

 

Darth Nyrys took 03’s measure and began work on the gambeson for some time, her experience with fabric from cosplay allowing her to add sharpness to a simple design without compromising its effectiveness. The item itself was made of layered armorweave, black with orange accents. Traditional Sith colors were red and black, but both she and her apprentices had displayed a natural affinity for fire, so the deviation seemed logical.

 

Some time later, her second apprentice came calling upon her in her private quarters. At first she had thought that his intent was to ask questions regarding the reading that she gave him, but she was quickly proven wrong when he bent the knee and offered her his sword. Similar feelings of accomplishment flooded through her again at this show of loyalty and respect for her teachings, but she knew that this apprentice would react better to reason than emotional appeals.

 

“You honor me Drago with this gesture of service. It is known that the Chiss rarely seek counsel or learning from others, so I will not take this gesture lightly. As long as I have your sword you will continue to have access to my knowledge and guidance, thus all will prosper.

 

I want you to seek passage to Cathar to recover your ship and return here, so that we can begin installing a lab for you to further your studies of biomancy. As you progress, you can begin to explore other aspects of Sith sorcery. Also, when you return we will begin the process of constructing your lightsaber.”

 

She bid Drago farewell leaving her alone with Lissi. It sounded silly but of all of her sins since joining the Sith order, this was the one that she felt most guilty about. She had broken the woman’s mind out of convenience, not necessity or uncontrollable instinct, and she had far more than ghosts to remind her every day of what she did. She could free Lissi in the terminal sense, but part of her knew that was more a selfishly motivated desire to be done with the situation than an actual moral solution.

 

Maybe just be straight with her, tell her the truth that will hurt in the short term but free her in the long run. People recover from broken hearts all of the time. But she had really done a number on her, the girl’s mind was totally pfasked, what if she killed herself over it. Lissi was kissing her now on her neck, and Ailbasí, looking for anywhere else to look, noticed marks on her arm.

 

“What’s this? Is someone on the ship hurting you?” other than me.  

 

“Oh, no, just when you aren’t around I can’t feel anything at all unless I hurt myself. At first when you told me that you were my world I thought you were just feeding my a really cheesy line, but now it feels like the central truth of my life. Don’t worry though, the only thing that really hurts me is the times that you ignore me.”

 

Pfask karma, pfask it with a molten metal rod. Time to drop tactical truth proton torpedo. Just be direct, concise, and prepared for tears…

 

“Look Lissi, I don’t know how to… I never… aww hells, I’m terrible at this.”

 

Apparently old Ailbasí isn’t completely dead, or returns on occasion in zombie form to torment her with awkward conversation.

 

“Oooooh, you’ve never done this before, don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do.”

 

Ten out of ten performance. Pfasking gold star right there. Ailbasí queen of awkwardness back in full form. Couldn’t keep a guy if her life depended on it, but now about to hook up with her accidental fake girlfriend because words are hard.

 

=================

 

Afterwards, Ailbasí felt more than anything disappointed with herself that she couldn’t wave a magic wand and make herself happy about this, have some kind of silver lining. After all, the whole gender thing aside wasn’t this what she wanted from a relationship? The intimacy had been awkward, like an overly invasive spa massage, and just not the release she wanted out of her encounters. But the affection and tenderness were there. A sweetness that Ailbasí hadn’t found anywhere else.

 

The problem was guilt. Guilt brought out the fumbling nature of her old self. Guilt was her last chain to break before she was free to live as the best version of herself. Even as she taught her apprentices she had her own lessons to learn.    

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The trip to Cathar was not long but was also incredibly productive.  The texts provided by his master proved even more interesting then the last and while returning to Mandalor he spent time begining to formulate new alchemical solutions, only on paper of course, which he could use in his pursuit of creating living beings.   The journey was over to soon as far as he was concerned but thankfully due to his dicipline he knew all good things come to those who wait.

 

Upon his return he again made himself as presentable as possible.  Almost as if preparing for a military parade.  The only addition was a black arm band with several biomancy sigils sewn onto it to show that he was taking his studies to heart.  Upon requesting permision to enter and being granted it, he again knelt down, " I have returned Master, what would you have of me before I continue my studies?".

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MOTHER NYRYS

BLOOD BROTHER DRAGO

SON OF THE DARK

 

F A M I L Y.

 

 

It made more sense now, and the clarification she provided in words alone, was what provoked a fire inside of his heart. Whether she truly meant what she spoke, was impossible to discern, but he believed more than anything. What had happened in that moment, would mandate the pact that these three would surrender themselves too for decades to come. That is what it felt like, a promise to uphold and preserve these affinities no matter the cost, by any means necessary. This was his family now, and a conviction echoed through his bones, that he would never let what had happened to him, happen to them. His suffering would never be theirs, and perhaps Lady Nyrys would be the one to free him from the rest of his chains. 

 

Brother Drago had left for a mission back on Cathar that did not require his presence, so Three buckled down thrice as hard and honed the time he had been offered alone. Massive cuts of thick-boned butcher meat were suspended from seven-inch chain-links that sprawled all over the vault like cobwebs, the rendered flesh and exposed bone-marrow were mostly frozen over. He had been at it for hours, too many to count, and little sleep between them to interfere his exercise. There were bodies of meat that were pulverized into a mush that pendulum-swung crushingly, to and fro, consistently enough to track the passing of time with.  The balls on his knuckles were chewed, sorely red and bleeding down his fists. The smile on his face was peculiar, perhaps it was freedom that bestowed him with an adrenaline potent enough to ignore the pain of his bones nearly fracturing from every blow. If freedom smelled of repugnant meat, and sweat, and blood, then he would have his fill. When he had crushed the other slaves, there was a numbness that blinded how he felt as he snapped their necks with his bare hands, there was a white noise that drowned out all emotion. Here, the noise became a feeding power inside of his arms, a pressure between his knuckles that unraveled explosively whenever he willed it. 

 

This is the Dark Side

 

The power of his blows were filled with a conspicuous warmth, a radiance of temperature that exhausted energy into wherever he impacted. At first, and for many hours, he simply punched his heart out against what felt like stone. That pain created an urgency inside of him, a movement almost, and his feet began to dance. Order and structure found his footwork as if muscle-memory took over where the mind could never. The motion simmered his body, building up a wicked energy that thawed each rail of meat with a combination of footwork and punching power. His knees, shins and feet joined the assaults and a mixture of strikes stormed their way relentlessly into the objectives. This energy was not being created or destroyed, merely changing forms and locations, intensifying with the duration of his will. When his fists ached more than what he could stand, then he would drop and train the rest of his body using his physical weight. Attendants dedicated to his service, returned to him in cycles. Some tending to his wounds with impressive technology, mentioning that he was healing at a faster rate than before, while others provided sustenance in the form of food and even affection. Clothing was optional, incessant perspiration and sloppy hydration meant that these articles only slowed him. They would wrap his hands and legs, entertain him with conversation that was always one-sided, and these things feed him purpose. He knew he belonged and he would earn his place.

 

 

He wondered though, during his recesses and moments of repose, fractured memories of a man echoed his moves. It was always the same dreams; arenas roaring to life over this man and how he fought fearlessly. His attire was overly-lavish, he was appeared brash and haughty, swallowing in all the praise that the thousands cheered him on with. The two of them looked similar, but Three barely spent time acknowledging what he even looked like himself. The thunderous chants were too muffled for him to hear in these fantastical dreams, but if he was reading their lips correctly, they all screamed Kraven.

 

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Drago’s return heralded the continuation of Nyrys’s instruction in the beliefs and methods of the Sith for both of her apprentices. When separate, she could rely on both of them to pursue self improvement without any prodding from her. Both were loyal, and both were driven.

 

“Students, it’s time you learned the code that provides the foundation of all Sith teachings and philosophy. I will speak it, and then go through it line by line to elucidate its meaning.”

 

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion.

Through passion, I gain strength.

Through strength, I gain power.

Through power, I gain victory.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

The Force shall free me.”

 

Even after all this time, saying the words was like conducting electricity through her entire body. The code wasn’t just a historical curiosity, or piece of dogma remembered through rote study. It was a philosophical map to a higher state of being. Instructions for achieving some measure of cosmic divinity for people who actually experienced the cosmos, rather than distant gods.

 

“Many scholars have speculated that the first line was conceived to directly challenge the Jedi code, but I believe that the line has merit on its own. To live is to experience want, need, joy, loss, love, and pain. Peace is an illusion, a false opiate chased by fools who are too afraid to live a life of passion. We were made by the cosmos to be creatures of desire, to stand by the people that matter, to pfask the people that kindle our inner flame, to bring about the lamentations of those who wronged us. Love so hard you leave scars, and tear the stars out of the sky if they align against you. To do any less is to deny your truth.

 

In the second line we learn the source of a Sith’s power, life itself. Not vital energy, although we can and do manipulate and consume that, but rather the experiences that define us, mark us by going through them, and the experiences we crave so deeply that we would break the natural order to pursue them. Seek out your passions, feed the fires that they stoke within, become a walking inferno of the realized self. There is no well of strength deeper or closer to you than your own heart.

 

Strength is limited in application until it is refined into power. The strength of your desires is like a block of the finest marble, waiting to be sculpted by your hands into something magnificent. In heeding my training you will receive the tools necessary to craft marvels, altering both yourself and the world around you. Basic tools and skills will be progressively refined into advanced instruments and specialized masteries. But power alone will not satisfy you.

 

The fourth line is often taken simply as a justification for the acquisition and use of power as a means to achieve victory, but I believe that there is more to it than that. Many Sith become so focused on hoarding power that they lose sight of what their actual goals are, consumed by the need for more power. But power without victory is a meaningless achievement that accomplishes nothing but turning the Sith into a numb and hollow husk. Power is a means, but never let it become the end.

 

Our victories free us from living small and meager lives, opening our eyes to our true potential and revealing unconquered horizons of existence unbound by mortal concerns such as ethics or legality. What you are passionate about will almost certainly shift or evolve into something that your former self would find alien and incomprehensible, or at the very least quite impossible. Before I joined the ranks of the Sith, I was studying to become a university professor focusing on history, and I was a fragile little thing that hopelessly swooned over men who never saw value in me. Now I’m a warrior huntress who wields a sword quenched in her own heart's blood and parlays with world leaders.

 

To be a Sith is to be free of all bonds and limitations, to make the world how you feel it should be, not some indifferent place of random and meaningless encounters. The Force is an unthinking and uncaring entity, a lobotomized god that has no goal or purpose other than what we give it. We are the ones that give existence meaning, the ones who value what life truly is, the ones who steal fire from the gods and use it to achieve the impossible.”

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Posted (edited)

It all sounded so simple and easy.  The truth had always been in front of him but until his master had opened his eyes to the force and the wonders it could perform he had been blind.  Knowledge, the knowledge of civilizations long gone, of those just starting, the easy to reach and the forbidden, it was all there for the taking.  Forbidden knowledge was not always dangerous, someone had simply deemed it so.  The knowledge of lost civilizations squandered and hidden from the galaxy by collectors was an abomination.  But with the force, with his masters help and with his own drive he would change all that.  Imagining a galaxy in which knowledge was the true driving force made him do something he rarely did.  He smiled, and for the first time in many years it was a genuine smile.

 

"Master, I shall take all that you have said to heart and cannot wait to begin to unravel the mysteries of the galaxy with the help of this sleeping god.  Ask what you will of me, my service is yours and I will use my knowledge and all that I obtain to help further your goals and to better this galaxy we call home.  Before I depart to begin delving deeper into the force and the knowledge it brings please take this notebook.  It contains the beginning formulations for something I believe you will find very interesting."

 

Turning to 3.

 

"Come my friend we have much to learn and much to do if we are to help turn the galaxy into what it could be instead of what it is. "

 

The journal on Sith Spawn contained the following

 

Dragul (Heavy Tank Sith Spawn)

Created through a use of surgery and alchemical manipulation the subject is physically enhanced in size, strength and durability.  Intelligence is secondary and a raised to a level only allowing for the understanding of orders and use of basic heavy melee weapons or the claws present on each finger.  On average the creatures stand between 8 and 10 feet tall weighing in at 500 to 650 lbs.  The increased durability produces a thick hide sporting bone plates on the chest, shoulders, and thighs.  The complexion is dark grey to black with black eyes and hair.  Resemble a large human with a protruding maw filled with teeth.

Tier One:

Early experiments yield the smallest of the Dragul, averaging a height of only 8 ft and weighing in at 500 lbs.  The bone plates appear only on their shoulders; however, the hide thickness is present. 

-Creature can take small arms fire and ignore most basic not energy based or vibro melee weapons.

-Claws are capable of piercing medium armor but not heavy armor or vehicle plating.

-Can handle basic melee weapons, preferring heavy hammers and great swords.  Can also use basic heavy projectile weapons.

-No force abilities or major alchemical capabilities.

Tier Two:

With advances in understanding and technical knowledge comes advances in Dragul.  Average height now sits at between 8.5 and 9.5 feet.  Weights vary between 500 and 575 pounds, with enhanced muscle refinement and hardening.  Bone plates now appear on both the shoulders and thighs of the creature with an increased hide thickness.  Claws and teeth have been reinforced.

-Creature is now capable of taking medium arms fire including standard blaster rifles.  Basic melee weapons are negated, while vibro weapons no longer get full penetration.

-The enhanced strength allows the claws to now pierce heavy armor though armor plating on vehicles still pose a problem, light vehicles can be overcome with the application of numbers.

-Can handle slightly more advanced melee weapons but still only basic heavy projectile weapons.

-Only alchemical enhancement is a slight healing factor from consuming the dead.  Minor wounds heal in a few hours.  Major wounds heal over the course of a    3 day hibernation.

Tier Three:

The pinnacle of the Dragul genetic line.  Averaging 10 foot in height and weighing in at a staggering 650 pounds it is an imposing sight.  The bone plating has appeared on the chest as well as an increased hide thickness.  The strength of the Dragul now exceeds expectations and is now coupled with a few more alchemical advancements.

-Now capable of withstanding most military grade infantry weapons, including heavy weapons.  Melee weapons are now primarily ineffectual excluding light sabers and highly advanced vibro weapons.

-Claws are now capable of damaging light/medium vehicle armor as the beast is now capable of generating heat due to an alchemical reaction it is capable of in its hands.

-Capable of handling advanced melee weapons as well as laser based heavy weapons if not outfitted with a projectile one.

-Healing factor has increased, now minor wounds heal in minutes instead of hours and creature can now consume both living and dead enemies.  Major wounds still require 24 hrs of hibernation.

Dragnoc (Infantry Sith Spawn/Breeder)

Created via a use of alchemical and viral methods, the subject resembles a humanoid toad standing 6.5 ft tall and weighing 300 lbs. on average.  Large set eyes provide an exceptional field of vision while the large mouth is lined with 2 rows of sharp .5-inch teeth.  It has an enhanced strength in both its legs and arms with an ability to leap great distances and climb without equipment.  Capable of using melee weapons its preferred ranged weapons are a corrosive bile it can spew/spit up to 75 feet, and a barbed tongue that reaches 12. The bile destabilizes and degrades minutes after being spewed forth so it can’t be duplicated.  The tongue contains 3 barbs that can break off to inject the virus into its victim, causing a coma that begins the early stages of transformation into a Dragnoc.  Also capable of the use of light ranged weapons.  Minor thickening of the hide allows it to absorb light arms fire and basic melee weapon damage.  Creatures have standard intelligence.

Tier One:

Early experimentation with the virus coupled with alchemical manipulation yielded a strain of varying sized Dragnocs with a variety of colors ranging from deep reds to purples and black.  The mouth contained only one row of teeth.  A singular barb developed on the tongue and the corrosive bile was capable of only destroying light armor in one go while medium required a few applications.  Viral infection of an enemy at this point takes 72 to 96 hours to cause transformation.  The enhanced strength is present, but the leaping ability is slightly limited.  On average the creatures were only 5.75 to 6-foot-tall with a more toad like appearance including slightly larger hands and feet.

-Creature can take equivalent amount of fire to a lightly armored soldier.  Basic melee weapons do reduced damage but vibro and energy weapons are fully effective.

-Teeth can shred through personal light armor and medium if the acidic bile is applied at the same location.

-Can handle basic light to medium melee weapons as well as light range weapons.

-Field of vision while enhanced is not much greater than a normal humanoid.

Tier Two:

With advances to the virus and minor alchemical adjustments the size of the Dragnocs stabilized at 6.5 feet with few variations in colors.  The color range is now purple to black.  The eyes have developed further, and the second row of teeth have been produced.  The Tongue now sports two barbs and the creature’s hands and feet are now more manageable.  The bile is now capable of destroying medium armor and the enhanced strength has yielded greater leap and climbing abilities.  The hide has also begun to thicken.

-Creature now has a hide thickness equivalent to medium armor absorbing most light weapons fire and the damage of standard melee weapons.  Vibro weapons do some damage but energy blades are still complete.

-Teeth are now capable of sawing threw personal medium armor without the use of acid and heavy with.

Weapon usage the same.

-Field of vision has enhanced to 180 degrees.

-Tongue now contains two barbs and the virus rate is increased to needing 48 hrs. with alchemical enhancement added in the interim.

Tier 3:

The final incarnation of the Dragnoc maintains the same physical appearance but sees the final evolution of the tongue and an upgrade to the corrosive bile produced by the creature.  At this point heavy armor and minor plate shielding melt away as though they were not there, and enemies are reduced to puddles of slime.  The leap distance of the creature is now 45 to 60 ft and they can climb virtually flat walls.  The field of vision has also increased to 240 degrees. 

Enhanced bile that can now destroy personal heavy armor and light vehicle armor if applied by several creatures.

Final tongue barb developed, and the virus now begins making the change in 16 hrs. after inducing coma.

Creatures strength has increased to the point where it can now wield medium ranged weapons as well as medium melee weapons.

Dracsha (Scout/infiltration)

Created using pure alchemy the Dracsha is a small humanoid with the feature of a feline.  Standing at best 5ft tall the creature sports 2-inch retractable claws on each of its digits.  A slender tail assists in balance while moving over delicate terrain or narrow ledges.  A heightened sense of intelligence allows it to gather useful information.  The creature can use an alchemical reaction in its fur to match it surrounding providing a good bit of stealth.  The Dracsha also boasts an ambient body temperature making thermal detection hard.  For disrupting electronics, the creature has the ability to generate bioelectrical surges that it can pass through its claws or as a small burst.  Capable of computer use and data extraction.  The creature is also capable of seeing in the dark due to enhanced night vision.

Tier One:

The basic forms and function of the Dracsha has developed those size and coloration are a problem.  At this state the creature is not super advanced in intelligence and yet cannot use the stealth capability being breed for.

-The creature’s coloration varies with some appearing as pure white.  Size is slightly larger at about 5.6 feet.

-Claws while present are not retractable and only capable of striking exposed areas, useless currently against armor. 

-Capable of wielding only light weapons and wearing basic cloth coverings no armor.

-Intelligence is slightly above humanoid average with saboteur functions available.

Tier Two:

The second variation see’s a correction in the creature’s physical attributes as well as durability of its primary claw weapon.  The intelligence has been increased again to allow for data acquisition and optical enhancements have been made to allow for low light vision.  The creatures have also developed the ability to bear the burden of light armor.

-The creature’s claws have developed the ability to retract and can now pierce light armor.

-Color variation is down to deep blues, purples, and greys.

-Height has been reduced to 5ft.

-Intelligence has increased and basic hacking and saboteur functions are now available.

-Low light vision has developed.

Tier 3:

The final incarnation of the Dracsha sees the coloration stabilize further to greys and blacks.  The electrical impulses can now be created and used as both a weapon and a means of disabling machines.  The intelligence of the creature peaks at this stage and allows for advanced infiltration, espionage, and sabotage.    Perfect vision at night now allows for total black out movement while the camaflauge has improved to the point that if the creature is not moving it cannot be readily seen or detected. 

-Final physical development completed.

-Intelligence on par with combat intelligence officer and beyond.

-Combat effectiveness at its peek though still not exceptionally high.

-Data collection and sabotage functions are at a peek performance level as well.

 

 

Sith Spawn Creatures.docx

Edited by Kellanderos

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The Force Shall Free Me

 

 

And there was the answer he had searched for, the conviction in her voice and in her wisdom, hashed out an unbelievable level of persuasion. It made sense to him, and her words drove home a belief he would need to shatter the chains that anchored him to a world of confusion. It was interesting really, he could almost feel the weight of those very chains, shrinking in their burden as she spoke confidently to the only two men she cared to share her time with. Perhaps he had been so impaired with unlocking the mysteries to his own mind, so marred with selfishness, that he could not see that the two alongside him had chains of their own that needed breaking. Ball and chain metaphors were excuses for the pain and loss that each of them suffered from, or the disabilities and detachment that plagued their lifestyles. His own captivity was at the mercy of insatiable slavers, but his true imprisonment rested within his thoughts, both sides of the coin trying to break him at every turn. The Code was all that mattered, a constitution that bounded unified his new family.  

 

Before the two of them, Three had appeared differently now. Semblances of his frail appearance had faded entirely, replaced with a red-blooded hardiness that oozed from his presence. A dark cloak covered him whole, hooded over his facial features, falling across the more powerful build of his body. Three could not notice this, but the Force hauntingly played part in a rapid maturation of his muscularity. The density and power of his skeletal structure transformed innately, feeding on a unanimous power source that humidified his soul. His long ivory mane stretched further now, personifying a creature of the wild, with features more frightening than the common folk from whence he started his journey. He was as still as stone, the equanimity of a Gargoyle, hawkishly watching over his family as they traded words. As silent as he was throughout all of this, meant that the knowledge he consumed, was digested faster and more effectively. Imaginings of the Code, and how he could rewrite his life with the philosophy of the Sith was where his fantasies would take him. And then Drago spoke, returning him to the here and now.

 

 

 

"..Brother." 

Three bowed his head lightly to Drago, and then deeply to his Master, turning to trail his blue friend.

The sickeningly deep sound of his voice, still a surprise to any that could hear his words.

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The stay on Mandalore had changed over the days of sensor silence, drifting from tense preparations to idle hours spent training beneath a specter of uncertainty. Some thought that the Crusaders were building up their forces for an overwhelming assault, others believed that the horde had buckled under its own explosive expansion and imploded. Lissi had coordinated with the Mandalorians to retain some combat instructors for 03, both to sharpen his unarmed combat skills and to strengthen ties with the locals. While she could certainly deliver a lethal show of force while unarmed, Nyrys’ own methods were far removed from the precision strikes prevalent in 03’s style, instead capitalizing on the presence of heavy armor, leverage, throws, and bending things in ways they were not meant to be bent. Engineering versus artistry and all that. Drago was thriving in his research, completing his assignments with thoroughness and imagination.

 

While her two apprentices conversed, a dispatch came in for Nyrys, from Onderon. War had come for them after all. It was only a matter of time really. She sent a message to an old mentor on Korriban, along with a healthy sum of credits for the work if he chose to accept the offer. There were too many fakes on the market to trust a third party on this matter. After the present storm was weathered she could teach her apprentices how to forge their own arms, but for now they would get acceptable substitutes.

 

At least one Sith would need to remain planetside as a sign of Sith presence to the Mandalorian leadership. At first glance Drago seemed the natural choice, his training was about to bear serious fruit, and while having some martial background, he wasn’t the brawler that 03 was. However, without supervision, his desire to experiment and insatiable curiosity could easily lead to a faux pas that might damage or even sever diplomatic ties. Better to leave the nascent warrior among his own. Besides, sooner or later, Drago would need to face the enemies of the Sith.

 

“Sons of mine, the Dark Lord has called his banners and mobilized the fleet. While I had hoped to have time to teach you to craft your own weapons, we have been summoned with a great deal of urgency. So for now, I have gifts for you. When I was an apprentice on Korriban, I gained a reputation for my work in the forge, where I studied under the forgemaster. A Sith of higher rank sought me out for my talents, and thought that they could secure my services through death threats. This Sith underestimated me, thought that our difference in status made me harmless. Suffice it to say, I ate her and took her weapons. It’s not our place in the world that defines us, but how hard we’re willing to fight for a better position.

 

I don’t want to have to bury either of you, so I’m going to teach you how to push yourselves outside of what you believe are your limits. Drago, this was Lady Keenava’s lightsaber, you will take it and join me in answering the Dark Lord’s summons. May you find your worth in the coming conflict.

 

Zero Three, you will remain here as a symbol of good faith to the Mandalorians. I have arranged for you to study under some of their weapon masters, you will learn everything they have to teach you, and you will impress them with your discipline and drive. Here you will find your voice, and achieve respect in their eyes. These people are of good warrior stock, so build a life here, find a lover if it suits you, and begin to meld our ways with theirs. You’ve already started to speak with us, but on Mandalore you will truly find your voice. My gift to you is these knives, Sith crafted and able to extend on chains like a whip, and a Massassi Lanvarok which will find its way here shortly, a weapon of great history and significance in Sith culture.”

 

Darth Nyrys knew that both apprentices would struggle with their assigned tasks, but that was the point. To make them flourish through conflict. Speaking of conflict, she had her own issue to resolve so that she could be focused on the battle. She needed to get past the guilt and do the right thing.

 

Lissi was right where Nyrys expected to find her, in her personal quarters. Nyrys had caught her watching her sleep more times than she cared to count. There was an intensity in the girl’s eyes whenever she saw the Sith, but Nyrys doubted that she had always been that way. This was a monster of her own making. Lissi, unaware of Nyrys’ intentions, closed the distance to kiss her. Nyrys had been such a child when she twisted the poor girl’s mind. What had once felt like a moment of empowerment and growth now only served to make her think of a child’s finger painting gone horribly wrong. It was a bitter lesson that could only be learned through personal experience, absolute power and complete certainty were not immune to bad decision making. She had pfasked up majorly, and all of the fallout had landed on somebody that didn’t deserve it. Maybe this was why so many Sith were moral relativists or had wholly given themselves over to the Darkness, to hide from the consequences of their actions. Nyrys wasn’t going to hide from what she did, not anymore, but she wasn’t going to abandon her philosophy over a mistake.

 

But what even was her philosophy anymore? In the beginning she had endeavored to only harm the wicked and the guilty, and for the most part was successful. But her power had a smaller footprint back then. Now she felt like a giant timidly trying to move without stepping on ants. A shark cannot survive in a fishbowl. And yet even her new powers were miniscule in impact compared to the larger conflict, which routinely toppled or destroyed the lives of billions. The Jedi claimed to be heroes, but they had abandoned whatever light there was to be found in the galaxy in favor of dogma and self righteousness. Maybe one day the illusion could be shattered and a new faith could restore the light to the galaxy instead of trying to claim they owned that light. Maybe that was her philosophy now, burn away the past mistakes that haunted so many to create a better galaxy.

 

She wouldn’t just break her own chains, she would break the chains that bound the galaxy in its brutal cycle. She would start with burning away her own chains. She put her hands on Lissi’s neck…

 

“You’ve always been better to me than I ever deserved. This isn’t about you doing something wrong or not doing something right, it’s just the only way I know how to get back to the person who deserves you, and whom you deserve. I don’t expect forgiveness from you, but I hope you find some measure of happiness in her arms.”

 

She squeezed. It needed to be with her bare hands. It needed to be personal. The looks of shock and betrayal cut deeper than she expected, but she held the course. Even when the light left Lissi’s eyes, when her feeble attempts to struggle stopped and her body went limp, she held the course. She kissed Lissi’s forehead like a mother kissing a child goodnight, and then she drew the girl’s soul into her crimson heartstone. Moments later, Lissi’s remains were naught but ash and cinders. The ashen figure, unable to maintain its own integrity, collapsed and coated the room in grey. The color seemed appropriate, Nyrys had always been a liminal being. Neither completely human or alien, unwilling to see herself as completely good or evil, broken yet thriving. A vagabond of blurred identity in a galaxy often clearly defined in stark black and white.    

 

“Now your chains are broken too.”

 

She left the room unburdened.

 

================================

 

A shuttle arrived for them, privately booked and with the captain fully expecting a mindwipe. Nyrys didn’t want her new ship getting marked as a Sith one this early on. She had started Drago on basic form training, he was already familiar enough with the aspects of sword fighting such as footwork and spacing, and the biggest obstacle was getting him adjusted to the weightlessness of the blade. She had him training against a remote currently, out of fear of straight up murdering him if she entered the training circle against him. Not because he was doing anything wrong, she was just struggling with the realities of having a healthy body for the first time in her life. Her emotions were tempestuous, everything hurt, and after one of the crew members had suggested sweets as a potential relief she ate so much that she got sick and spent an even more miserable period of time hunched over a refresher. The human digestive system was clearly designed by a drunken deity, a total jerk, or someone completely unable to commit to decisions. Possibly all three.

 

When she had been mostly Cathar, it was simple and delicious. As a meatavore it was all meat all the time. Now it was meat and fruit and vegetables and dairy and grains, but not too much of any one thing or else it was misery and vomiting. Making up your pfasking mind, stomach.

 

She had also lost a great deal of range in terms of her senses, but in that area the Force had stepped in to make up the difference, and then some. The way she experienced the world was different now. Emotions and experiences had color, texture, even taste. Some were saccharine or savory, others sour or bitter. Waiting in line tasted like unflavored oatmeal. Which was a thing that she now knew the taste of.

 

The spectrum of how she fought and moved had widened too, although that was on account of her assassin training and not her new body, mostly. Her fitness regimen was much more balanced between strength and agility this time around, and her flexibility and coordination were things that actually existed now. She was experimenting with enhancing her mobility through the Force, and misdirecting opponents through illusionry. Every day she strengthened her bond with Gwn Marwolaeth through an intense training regimen. The sword had been a part of her since its creation, but now there was a familiarity to it that allowed her to wield it with ease.

 

She embraced 03 before boarding the shuttle, he would have access to her ship which was practically a flying luxury house, and a credit account that she had set up for him, but money and nice things couldn’t solve everything. She worried, but she also knew that he was strong, within and without, and had survived many tribulations that had broken others. She handed him the lanvarok as a final gift before parting.

 

“May you find the strength to break your chains.”

 

With those words, they parted, and Darth Nyrys and Drago headed to rendezvous with the Sith fleet.  

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Nu Kai'tome.

H U N G E R

 

 

 

The air was sucked from his chest as the butt-end of the staff pounded into his sternum. An overly miserable and drawn-out wheeze was all he could muster as the momentum in his legs set like stone, and the weight of his body crumbled to the floor. There was no pain, just an astounding surprise, the efficiency was unbelievable and could not be traced by the natural eye. These Mandalorians were the flesh and bone manifestations of battle, unerringly proficient in all manner of combat, yet stoic in triumph. The familiar flavor of blood filled his mouth, coppery and softly boiled under the heat of his exertion. What went unnoticed was the loud clatter of his Lanvorak crashing to the floor, ringing out in defeat as Zero-Three curled into a ball. As soon as he went down, everything else became extremely quiet in his ears, nothing but the sound of his suffering wheeze was all he could hear. 

 

 

"You are finished?" The uncouth and direct voice belonged to a Mandalorian Weaponmaster, much older and much wiser in his years, with an unkempt black beard that fell to his belly, measuring all his years of life. He was a mammoth of a man, as tall as the trees and thicker by the trunk, especially terrifying in the traditional armor that most donned. Here however, Ghos Skarhoug stood indifferently with plain clothes, questioning whether this one would finally surrender or not. 

 

 

Thirteenth time he had hit the floor, but his left hand pushed across the dirt to find the handle of his weapon. His breathing had calmed, quicker than the last time, significantly more control than he once had. He did not look to where his hand needed to be, but he could feel the presence of his battle-ax near. The tips of his fingers scratched nails against metal, and his eyes burst opened, reaffirmed with flame. ".. I am not broken." The curve in his lips suggested a faint smile, struggling to find the words to jest. Gravity seemed different this time, mantling himself from the dirt worked his fatigue a little more each time. Three unfolded while spitting the red from his mouth, standing tall with his tremendous two-handed pole-arm, barely catching the disbelief painted on the face of the legendary Skarhoug. 

 

 

The Force, it was still with him, and more alive to him than the many faces that now circled both Three and Ghos as spectators. He could wield it, just as his two hands now clutched at the heavy-set lanvorak.  Maneuverability with such weight was sluggish at best, but even the advice of those he had trained with over the last few days, could not pry him from the gift of Lady Nyrys. Three would press forward. The exhaustion in his arms did their best to resist, but his hunger commanded them differently. Charging with his first few steps, the Sith apprentice leveraged the weight of his weapon with his acceleration and heaved a quickening swipe towards his instructor. Ghos was a quick man for his size, and the bladeless staff reciprocated in a flash. Nu Kai'tome, the name was laughable at first, but after forty-seven minutes of this, the rest of Skarhoug's company chanted the Mandalorian cognomen with pride. The strong-winded battleaxe met with the winter-sting of the weaponized axle, and Three inched his way with raw strength. 

 

 

Ghos compensated with a few steps backwards, and the crowd drew silence almost immediately..

 

 

 

 

 

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