Valar Morghulis

Update! Real Name: Riktor Hess A.K.A: Darth Valar Homeworld: Eriadu Species: Human/Kiffar Physical Description Age: 23 Height: 5'9 Weight: 145 lbs. Hair: Black Eyes: Gray Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: White robe over black shirt and pants. Weapon: Two blaster pistols, vibroblade, lightsaber. And the Force, if that counts. Common Inventory: Comlink, credits. Sith rep, yo. Faction Information [!factn] Force User Alignment: Evil Current Faction Affiliation: Sith Current Faction Rank: Lord History Force Side: Dark Trained by: Darth Dominus Trained who: Known Skills: Psychometry, Force aptitude Background: The weakling known as Riktor Hess is gone. Now there is only Darth Valar. One day, every world will rue his name. Tattoos: Two black u-shapes under both eyes, three parallel lines on his right cheek like a claw-scratch Ship Registration Name: Wingless Seraph Class: Patrol/attack ship Model: Firespray-class Manufacturer: Kuat Systems Engineering Length: 21.5 meters Armaments: 2 blaster cannons, 1 concussion missile launcher, 2 projectile launchers, 1 minelayer Armor: Reinforced durasteel Anti-Personnel Defenses: Vocal and Optical Recognition Appearance: Hasn't changed from above Modifications: N/a

Darth Valar's features remained resolute as he followed Haphaestus out. Inside, his senses were on fire, washing across those inside Smash's throne room and bathing in their opulence. He could feel the naked greed wriggling in their hearts, the chains of necessity binding them all to their ruler Daisaku. Really, though the Force this microcosm of bloated avarice manifested as a constantly reforming spider-web. Valar percieved an intricate network of golden threads passing through miser and miter alike. At the center was Daisaku, of course; his whims deciding who in this room would be next consumed and who would live on to prosper, if only for a little while. A fascinating cycle of self-destruction. Yet, there was one unifying principle for Valar to observe. Daisaku was utterly unchallenged. He was the God of this realm, brimming with golden light from the thousands of threads arcing into his body. A beating heart, so vitally linked to Black Sun that his destruction would bring the rest of the 'body' with it. The Sith lacked that unifying principle. "If you fail, my Lord, your plans could be forever lost. We both know how the dark side operates," spat Valar. "Too many of us are thralls to its will. We can't chance that all is lost just because some raving idiot would rather blow up a system. Once we reach the shuttle, I need to know our endgame. What's the central result of this plan?" This information would be of the utmost value.

Darth Valar stood close by, keeping his eyes trained on Haphaestus as the Dark Lord spoke. When they had stepped into Smash's throne room, Valar had allowed himself a moment to gloss over the lavish palace. Many a fool would be sickened by this shameless display of avarice; those who thought themselves wise always sputtered of how humility was the path to inner peace. What a load of crap, Valar thought in response. Humility was the path to getting used and discarded in this ruthless, cutthroat galaxy. By displaying his wealth and the wealth of his cohorts in so bluntly a fashion, Smash Daisaku showed that he was above the cheap manipulations of everyday trash. This man was important; he mattered and his will could shape the galaxy as he saw fit. In other words, Valar liked the place. The moment passed quickly, however, and Valar was once again cold and resolute. He regarded Daisaku impassively, waiting to see the crime lord's response to Haphaestus's speech. No need for violence, hopefully.

How long had it been since Darth Valar had seen the outside? It felt like an eternity. Were it not for the black lightsaber now clasped to his belt, Valar might have supposed that he was now waking from a dream. What had happened to him inside his former Master's fortress didn't seem wholly real: Valar had almost died, choking on that cold floor with sickening heat in his face. The darkness had almost devoured him- almost. But Valar's conviction had overpowered the darkness, had conquered it. Deep down in this fortress, Valar had clawed his way to a new destiny. This fortress was his universe. The first thing he felt upon stepping out of his universe was the cool touch of rain. Water seeped down into his shirt, bringing Valar's attention to the grime covering his body. Caked into his tattered clothes were dried blood and sweat, maybe even a spattering of vomit. Riktor Hess's tattered clothes- these were the symbol of an old life. Valar made no expression as he stripped off his shirt, tossing the red cloth to the ground. Then he looked up into Vjun's murky skies, relishing the coldness of the rain. It wasn't the sky that interested Valar so much as what lay behind it. An entire universe of possibilities was now ripe for the taking. Valar smiled, knowing he could reach out and claim them all. The Force was now his to command; the most dangerous beings in the galaxy were now his comrades. It was all so- interesting. For a long time, Valar stood silently in the rain, savoring the moment. Slowly, and not without pain, Valar finally moved. His ship was parked nearby, right where he'd left it. Nothing inside the Wingless Seraph, as a quick scan with the Force confirmed. Now that he was a bona-fide Sith Lord, Valar made a mental note to be more paranoid in the future. After all, treachery was the way of the Sith. He grinned wickedly; treachery wasn't a problem for him. Valar had become a creature of the dark, and there was no sense in not embracing it. The dark was all around him, Valar's willing slave. Satisfied, the Sith Lord reached out, allowing himself to feel the aura of Vjun one last time. Then he took the Wingless Seraph up above the clouds and left that empty world behind.

The newly anointed Sith Lord stared down at the beggar's tattered form. For a split second, Darth Valar wanted to strike him down where he stood. But common sense quickly asserted itself- not only would a wanton killing serve no practical purpose, this wasn't even an ordinary beggar. It was Nurgle, the dream-thing. Dominus's android twin. In a way, Dominus himself stood before Valar. What do you want to do now? Valar swung the lightsaber through the air, testing its grip. He had to admit, the weapon was a fine piece of work. But he hadn't had an opportunity to truly test it. Life among the Sith would be a life of constant danger. He needed to be ready, and declaring himself a Sith Lord was only the first step. The next step was quite obvious. "I want to walk among the Sith as an equal. But I'm not up to a fighting standard." He hesitated, eyeing Nurgle up and down. The android seemed so frail...but Valar knew there was a terrible power contained within. One that could easily undo him if he wasn't careful enough. "I need to be tested in battle. Are you up to the task of fighting me?" Valar steeled himself, ready for anything- even destroying Nurgle, if their contest became lethal. He gripped his lightsaber tightly, waiting for a response.

He was in control now. Riktor Hess was crouching on the ground, resting his elbows on his knees as he slowly drew breath. The darkness swirled around him, as always, but Hess didn't even care. Sarcastic remarks aside, he'd been a determined and even reverent acolyte. Not anymore. The perfect rage he unleashed had opened his eyes. "You're an old demon," Hess said to no one, coughing as he laughed. "An impotent old demon. Without people like me to feed off you, you wouldn't have any teeth. I thought you were some kind of god...pretty sophomoric of me." Hess felt the cooling lightsaber crystal, felt its heart and the undying fire at its core. "You're not God..." he rubbed his forehead, wiping away sweat and caked blood. "We're the ones who get to be God." Hess lifted his finger, focusing on the hate contained in the crystal. Through the Force, it glowed violently, as if thrashing in an attempt to escape. It was a part of him, just as everything his mind touched was a part of him. All of it bound together in the matrix of his consciousness, which was so much more than Riktor Hess had been. In fact, that name was starting to lose its meaning to him. It would need to be shed, soon, just like the rest of his former life. With the slightest motion of his wrist, Hess brought the crystal into the air. For a second, it glowed like a star...then unceremoniously clattered down on the wooden table. To Hess, this was funnier than it should have been. He laughed loudly, streaks of pain shooting through his body with every heave of his chest. Part of him had died on the floor of this room; as the darkness and the rage burned through him, much of Riktor Hess had gone with it. The weaker parts. Now he was more powerful than he had ever been. Hess grinned once more, baring his teeth in a primal gesture. Then he rose to his feet, allowing a tattered black vest to fall from his shoulders. As Hess clenched his fists, the darkness churned around him, rippling to the force of his desire. Suddenly, his master's voice echoed through Hess's mind: You will not require me for this last part, but I know I should still be here for the end of your training. If it were not essential I leave now, I would stay. Lord Nurgle will finish your training. In some sense, he and I are one in the same anyway. Hess bit his lip with enough force to draw blood. Dominus had taken him this far, had pushed him so hard that Hess nearly killed himself and now he was leaving? Naked anger boiled within him, still difficult to restrain. He might as well break everything in the damned room because apparently none of it really mattered to Dominus, there was probably 'Alcazarin' business to take care of and surely something more important than Hess nearly dying...and yet...he would not let his anger use him...he would keep it contained...and focused, to use as a tool. This anger would help him. It would be his to wield, strengthening the perfect rage that burned within him forever. That was the way of the Sith- not slaves to their passions, but masters of it. And Hess would follow suit. In three strides, Hess was at the table. Scrap metal was still littered across the floor; Hess thought of his master's abandonment and in seconds the metal was gathered by the forge. He barked commands at the faceless droids, making them bring the required materials to the forge. As Hess ran his fingers across the lightsaber parts, he felt not only their presences in the Force, but also their histories; their workings. Certainly a more complex feat of engineering than the rudimentary forge, but still simple enough. Taking up his tools, Riktor Hess began his work. As with the forge, flashes of memory played out across his eyes. But these memories were more personal- flashes of Dominus and Nurgle and the worker droids setting up this little stage. Dominus abandoned him. He forged the exterior first, hammering black metal into place. Most of the lightsabers he'd seen were primarily silver. Not this one. This was a unique weapon, one to compliment Hess himself. Just as the darkness would be the instrument of his will, so too would that be reflected in this blade. The wiring and circuitry came next, a more intricate operation than simply smithing metal. But nothing Hess wasn't capable of. He worked the circuitry around the lightsaber crystal- which was still cooling after all this time, to Hess's interest. Once the most vital parts were introduced, it was simply a matter of completing the circuit. Memories and visions flashed ever still before the acolyte's eyes, only now dimming as the blade came to its shape. This weapon was not forged of any borrowed memories. This was the creation of Riktor Hess himself. There would be no memories ascribed to it except his own. It was grueling work and it was exciting work at the same time. Sweat poured down his brow, but Hess was no stranger to pain, physical or otherwise. Pain was a strength, not a weakness. Like anger, pain was just another tool to be used. That was the way of the Sith- the way of Hess. And this black blade would be the proof of it. With this weapon, he would carve his name into the galaxy's heart. Here was the power he had sought. As he watched the weapon cool, Hess looked upon his new identity and his new purpose. His feral grin returned. In that moment, he wanted the whole galaxy to kneel at his feet. One day they would, he decided. Even his fellow Lords of the Sith. That was his destiny. To be greater than any living being, ever. The black lightsaber was still warm to the touch, but it fit into his hands more intimately than any lover. One day Darth Dominus would regret leaving his apprentice behind. Looking on the Dark Lord's long list of accomplishments, Dominus would curse himself for not having seen the baptism of Riktor Hess...or, rather, the man who had been Riktor Hess. That name had now run its course. He would be the galaxy's savior or its destroyer; his grand destiny required a name to match it. He felt a dark whisper in the Force. And then, as the flame-colored blade ignited into existence, he knew. "I am Darth Valar."

As Darth Dominus explained how to create the red crystal, a familiar sense of apprehension crept up Hess's spine. According to Dominus, Hess would have to form the crystal out of pure darkness itself- combining the flame of the forge with the choking hate in Hess's own heart. Could he do that, though? Hess felt as though he had barely even started his training. He had learned how to percieve objects through the Force and how to act accordingly- not to mention experienced terrifying visions through the dark side- but such alchemy seemed far beyond his ability. Right when he met Dominus, the Sith Lord had said that most of his own apprentices had since died. At the time it had merely sounded like an ominous warning, but now Hess had begun to understand. Dominus was pushing him now...perhaps this Sith had done this with his past apprentices. Maybe he pushed them all too far. The darkness had a predatory nature. If a novice learner tried to summon more power than they could control, the darkness would devour them. That had to be why so many of Dominus's apprentices had died; the ultimate price for using such an unholy power. Yet...how could Hess deny himself at such a crucial moment? He had pledged himself to the Sith in pursuit of their power, and here it was. To bend reality to his will...a frightening prospect, but an intoxicating one all the same. Hess felt the presence within all shadows pooling around him, drawn by his desire and the strength of his will. Even if every other apprentice had died at this same moment, the acolyte would not be denied. Not only was there no turning back, there was no point in turning back. To turn back was to die. Whether or not Dominus chose to physically kill him afterwards was irrelevant; Hess would already be dead inside if he turned back now. He had always been dead- only in the darkness was he ever alive. How could he have lived for so many years without the presence of the dark? This wasn't just power at his fingertips; this was meaning, true meaning! And if only hate could unlock this dark might within him, then so be it. A wave of bile threatened to rise up Hess's throat as he considered an entire universe's worth of hatred- because hate had been his life and hate had always been his life. Without the familiar buzz of his Gift- the faintest touch of the Force- Hess would have been devoured by his hatred long ago. For he hated everything he had ever touched. He hated his diseased, rotting homeworld and he hated his worthless, thoughtless, useless excuse for a father and he hated every two-faced, lying, self-serving piece of stink that he had ever met; he hated Eriadu and Coruscant and Trulalis and Vjun- and his broken-down excuse for a starship- and this shameful half-breed blood running through his veins, marking him a mongrel and a bastard freak born of two races and belonging to neither- and above all else he hated this weak flesh- this miserable excuse for a life- he hated the man named Riktor Hess and through the darkness he would unmake that man- Pure darkness surged through Hess like cold water, violently throwing the acotyle to his knees before the flame. It's too much- I used too much- He dug his nails into the floor and felt them snapping, his teeth grinding together as he forced a horrible shriek back down his throat with the urge to retch. He was shaking all over, sweat pouring down his clammy features from the heat and the exertion. His eyes shot open, threatening to rip themselves out of his skull and join the blood starting to pool on the floor. All around him the darkness laughed, mocking this pathetic figure that sought dominion over it. This was no predator. This was prey. It mocked the prone figure with the laughter of its father, of its enemies, of its cruel master and of itself. This was no Dark Lord of the Sith. Breath hissed into his lungs through clenched teeth. His body ached and threatened to collapse entirely. Yet a mad spark still flared in his eyes. Wearily, tremulously, the acolyte raised a hand before the flame. i won't die He felt the fire's sickly heat, and now he did vomit- splashing bile across the floor but remaining on his knees. In response, the spark in his eyes grew even brighter. He felt the stinging shame of total humiliation but would not break; instead it fueled the burning within him. Slowly, surely, he began clenching his hand into a fist. I Won't Die The darkness flowed into him again, pumping venom through his veins and pitch into his heart. It chilled his blood, making naked his fear and his lust. Inhuman laughter flooded his brain, threatening to burst out of his skull. It was dragging him down again, trying to rip out his soul and devour his flesh until nothing remained of the acolyte- not even memory. He was drowning in his own fear, now so close to death that he could touch it, could taste it. His entire body was growing cold. Cold and still. But the darkness would not win. I WON'T DIE New fire exploded through the acolyte's body, blood dripping from his clenched fist and an animalistic growl escaping from his lungs. Fear and anger and lust and pain; all ignited into the terrifying firestorm that Riktor Hess had become. He hated life and he hated himself but now his hatred had crystallized, perfect, pure: for above all else he hated this darkness that thought it could devour him like he was nothing! He was ruined and bleeding and broken and ragged but he was still alive and he would not die, not for the sake of any being and never for this power that was His to control!! "I AM THE MASTER NOW!!!" Hate and fire melded together, fusing and fissioning at the seething will of the once-acolyte. The lightsaber crystal bubbled within the forge, given life and shape out of the Hell that Riktor Hess had conjured. Hess felt himself in many places at once, one with the fire and the shadow and the crystal born of his hate. He felt no wonder, no fear, no despair; only rage. Perfect rage. Not formed from his insecurities and self-loathing, but now from the strength of his will and the darkness he had bent to him. The forge burned white-hot, its flames raging with enough force to defean the entire room; fed by the firestorm inside Riktor Hess's soul. He had dragged himself onto his feet, hunched over, loping, channeling the perfect rage he had created into the object within the forge, funnelling his Hell into the crystal that embodied his burning heart, pouring emotion into the forge and into the Force- And then, suddenly, it was over. The flames died down as Hess allowed himself to sink to the floor, a triumphant smile on his face. He panted slowly, savoring every breath of air into his lungs. His hair was a dripping mess and he was covered in grime from head-to-toe, but none of that mattered. He could have been in that chamber for minutes or hours or days; Hess couldn't tell. But as the primal aggression mounted in him, the half-Kiffar bared his teeth in a feral grin. "That's right," he said to the darkness around him. "I'm the master now." He looked to the cooling lightsaber crystal and laughed, even as shudders rippled through his body. He was in control now.

Riktor Hess stared down into the fire pit, the flames casting a heavy shadow across his face. His persona had changed. Up until this point, the apprentice had gone about his trials with a light air of sarcasm and black humor. While becoming a Sith Lord was important to him, Hess hadn't taken his trials all too seriously and had always maintained a witty inner monologue. But the winds had changed. Since he had left Trulalis, Hess had been deathly quiet. Wherever he walked now, one could feel a tension in the air around him; as if all his emotion had coiled within itself, like a cobra waiting to unleash its venom. His jovial air seemed to have disappeared entirely, replaced by this silent intensity. There was a steel in his eyes that had never been there before. One could no longer doubt that the man was fully commited to his cause. Dominus instructed Hess to begin his trials by building a forge with which to construct a lightsaber. He would be given primitive tools by Dominus's faceless servitor droids, but that would be all; Hess was not allowed to use the Force as a crutch. Once, the apprentice would have protested, but the weight of this occasion had fallen upon him. There was no longer any time for juvenile protests. Hess had made a conscious choice to seek out the Sith and join their ranks; he had always known that it would test him to his limits. Knowing the reality of Vjun's darkness, to merely build himself a forge would be child's play. Time-consuming, perhaps, but patience was a virtue- even to the Sith. With a crack of the neck, Hess stepped forward and began. Engineering had never been his forte. For most of his short life, Hess had lived a parasitic existence, using the merits of others to supply himself. Even his ship, the Wingless Seraph, was a battered old acquisition he'd won in a sabacc game. As a Sith Lord, Hess would never be such a parasite again. He wouldn't need anyone ever again. Just himself. It was better that way. The half-kiffar stared down at his hands as he summoned tools from the droids. Nothing too complex: just a hammer and some other basic instruments. All he needed to do was use the piles of metal and build them around the fire pit. Picking up a piece of metal, Hess began hammering it into shape. As Hess worked, he allowed the hammer's flashes of memory to play out before his eyes. Even such a nondescript object had a history: there were moments in time frozen inside it, held tougher than any kind of physical amber. Hess could feel the sweat dripping from the miner's face as she hammered and hammered at the rock around her. He felt the detached bemusement of the Verpine executive as it tossed the hammer into the air and watched it fall out of sight. He felt the taut muscles of the blacksmith as he forged away at a vibroblade. He felt the joy and wonder of the children examining their father's tool. Hess could only 'see' so much, yet as nondescript and blurry as their faces seemed, their thoughts and feelings were as clear and real as the universe around him. His was a profound Gift. Percieving these stranded pieces of time as he did, Hess coveted them. It was his right to treasure what he had. That was the way the world- every world- functioned. Perhaps, once upon a time, Hess might have thought that he should spread these feelings to others through his own actions...a childish view. In the blackness tingling around him Hess could feel the cruelty of the universe, and this was proof enough. Best instead to turn inward and fortify oneself...as the half-kiffar had done. Why else would he stand so long in the dark? To meld oneself with the blackness was to attain a power greater than mortal understanding. A very real power. He'd seen it- and having seen it, how could he live without it? Wasn't there some old saying about an abyss...? No, it didn't matter. Snapping out of his reverie, Hess noted the finished forge before him. He'd sculpted the metal atop the fire pit and hammered it into a rudimentary shape. It hadn't been difficult; as Hess wielded the tools, he felt their memories within, giving him a skill beyond his years. Despite this, the forge was no work of art and certainly below the standards of a skilled artisan, but it would do. Riktor Hess set down his tools and turned his attention back to Darth Dominus and the faceless, eerie droids all around them.

The Wingless Seraph screamed out of heaven, plummeting all the way down to the darkness below. Riktor Hess was fully silent, his thoughts focused totally inward, his expression unreadable. When he stepped foot on this world again, his final training would begin. Up until this moment Hess had merely tasted the edges of the Force. He had lived with it all his life, manifested in the psychometric Gift his personality had formed around. Through Dominus's teachings he could now percieve far beyond himself, perhaps to the point where his glare pierced into the heart of the Force itself. He had experienced terrifying visions of pure darkness and felt the tendrils of blackness enveloping his body. Perhaps his perception had become perfect; perhaps, in that respect, he was a prodigy. It mattered little. Perception was important, yet merely a building block for the true power Hess would attain. Manipulation was the true power of the Sith. To see the Force in all its splendor was incredible, yet to exert one's own will upon that Force and manipulate its contents was beyond exhilarating. It was beyond any concievable action Hess could ever attempt as a mortal; this was the path to divinity, to rising beyond flesh and bone and into a higher, greater realm. To wield the Force in such a way was to bend the very fabric of the universe to one's whim. Power beyond measure. Power that had slept in Hess all his life, just waiting to be unleashed and to sweep away all the years he had wasted without purpose. Power and control and purpose; all of it beckoned to Hess and he was just so close... And he would not fail. Nothing could stop him now. This was the eve of his ascension. Riktor Hess walked onto the surface of Vjun, and without words he waited for Darth Dominus to remake him.

Hess could feel it in the Force as Oni and Haphaestus rained attacks down on one another, the formerely jovial Oni having mutated into a disturbing parody of the human form. Looking at the two of them from a physical perspective was impressive enough, as both fought like time-tested combat veterans. But this was not a mere battle of skilled mortals. Through the Force, Hess saw the clash as it truly was; a war between titans. The half-Kiffar stood as a mere spectator, an ant looking up to heaven as twin gods shattered the sky. This was sublime: magnificent and terrifying, all at once. Darth Dominus said, "Take us to Vjun. There you will become a Sith Lord." Hess turned, facing his master, and nodded silently. Distracted as he had been by Haphaestus and Oni's battle, Hess allowed the full weight of his Master's words to pass over him for now. Without a word, he led Dominus back to the Wingless Seraph. Minutes later, seemingly unnoticed by Haphaestus and Oni in their struggle, the Seraph disappeared into space. Destiny awaited.

Hess was admittedly caught off-guard as one of the Alcazarins- Lord Oni, was it?- chuckled at his joke. Apparently this one was a more jovial sort than Dominus and Haphaestus. All the Force users Hess had seen up to this point, though, had been focused and stoic. It grew tiresome after a while; these solemn types carried themselves with such pomp that sometimes you just had to laugh. Still, the chuckle was surprising and almost jarring. "Tell me apprentice", Oni asked, "Am i to understand right that Dominus offers you the same chance? If so, please, tell me what are your thoughts on our Order." After a moment's hesitation, Hess spoke up. He said, "I can't say I really know your Order, aside from what I've just heard. Master Dominus is only training me as a Sith, not as an Alcazarin. Perhaps I'll be offered Lucifer's choice in the future...but I can't say what my decision will be. Unlike Lucifer, I think about my life choices before making them." He smirked. "You seem to hold yourselves to higher standards than the Sith and your bonds appear very strong. That's...admirable. But where I end up isn't important to me right now. Sith or Alcazarin, all that matters now is that Riktor Hess ceases to exist." His grey eyes became steely. "Then I'll decide. Whatever I am then." All around Hess, the darkness quivered, as if it was laughing.

Hess stared blankly as the kiffar Sith shambled off, claiming that he would vindicate his newfound loyalty to the Alcazarins. Soon enough, Lucifer's ship blasted off into the clear skies. The Sith Lord's sudden conversion to Alcazarin ideals and apparent rejection of power might have heartened Hess once. Might have. But all the years of inadequacy and contempt for life had buried such warm feelings. To Hess, it was quite clear: Lucifer was either lying and would sell them out to the Sith posthaste; or he was a pathetically weak-willed creature. The man had been on this planet for, what, 10 minutes at most and he was already swayed? Hess scowled. Such an unthinking animal wasn't even worthy of his notice, much less his respect. That just left him and the Alcazarins. "For the record, I think Lucifer would be a great butler. You guys should look into that," said Hess with spontaneous levity.

Riktor Hess was relieved to find that his racing pulse had slowed down. While the haunting vision still ate away at his soul, Hess let the interactions between the other Sith distract him for the moment. He cautiously moved his gaze from Sith-to-Sith, making sure to follow the flow of their speech. These observations were becoming more interesting by the minute. The first Sith to address him had been the kiffar, Lucifer. As a half-breed kiffar himself, Hess briefly wondered if he should feel any kinship with the Sith Lord. He couldn't deny an unmistakable twinge of jealousy, but it fell to the back of his mind as Lucifer spoke. "Hmm...it seems to be that the darkside is calling to you in your thoughts almost as if to tell you something for as a part of the force it is sentiant in nature but we control it, just as with a wild beast being tamed so to is the darkside like this in nature, wild and ferral but with control can become a weapon unlike you have ever known, if that control is lost it becomes wild again and thus so to is your mind is lost along with it which is why we must be ever careful with it's use and be mindful of some of it's elements." Hess had briefly ruminated on Lucifer's words. The kiffar spoke much of the dark side, a particular phrase Hess himself had never embraced. He had believed in one Force that could be used in various ways. The dark side as a separate aspect was an idea Hess had given little thought...until now. After his vision, Hess no longer felt secure in his beliefs. Suddenly nothing was certain. This was when things had gotten interesting. Haphaestus had turned to Lucifer and, to Hess's surprise, blatantly corrected the kiffar. "The Force is not sentient. It is an energy field that spans time and space, and it serves us not by any consciousness." The masked sith spoke in a rumbling, metallic bass. What is he? As if responding to Hess's thought, Haphaestus had addressed him next. "What you have experienced I believe is referred to as The Dark. It is a unifying principle of the Force that transcends the simplified light and dark sides that the Jedi and Sith follow. From darkness all things came, and to it all this will fall again. As Alcazarins, it is our destiny to rule it in the interim, and ensure that, at the end, oblivion again takes it. This is what your vision means." Hess deduced three things from Haphaestus's statement. First: That Haphaestus was, like Dominus, a member of the Alcazarin organization. Dominus had called them an unpopular splinter sect of the Sith. Second: That the Alcazarins, or at least Haphaestus, did not consider themselves Sith. Haphaestus had dismissed Jedi and Sith beliefs as "simplified" and never once referred to himself as being a Sith. He didn't refer to Dominus as one, either. This was telling, but not as telling as his third observation. Third: That Haphaestus thought Hess was being trained as an Alcazarin, not as a Sith. Haphaestus, a Force Master who could certainly read minds and who Hess had thought he was utterly naked before, didn't know he was being trained as a Sith. Right at the start of their training, Dominus had admitted his allegiance to the Alcazarins and promised to train Hess separately. Hess didn't know a being as powerful as Haphaestus could make such a glaring mistake; not just in front of Hess, but in front of the kiffar Sith Lord as well. Of course, these three observations did not occur to Hess instantly. At first he simply stared at Haphaestsus, caught off-guard by the Master's contradicton of Lucifer. Then, in a surprising twist, Lucifer immediately admitted his own inferiority to Haphaestus and Dominus! Apparently he found Haphaestus quite the powerful speaker, as the kiffar was now pledging himself to the will of the Alcazarins. As the others entered a discourse, Hess pieced together his three important observations. Presently, Dominus was telling Lucifer all about Alcazarin philosophy and whether or not Lucifer would be able to stand up to his fellow Sith in favor of the Alcazarins. This, too, was very telling. Now Hess knew that the Alcazarin leader (or perhaps their god) was a figure called "Rivan," and that all Alcazarin members were held together by some kind of symbiotic bond. It was all very curious. Having become little more than a spectator, Hess continued making his observations, idly wondering if he himself would be faced with Lucifer's choice in the near future.

Hess looked on silently as a third Sith arrived, introducing himself as "Lord Lucifer" and pledging unfamiliarity with Dominus. Now it's a party, Hess thought sardonically to himself. He hoped that the humorous remark would cool down his nerves, but truth be told his heart was still pounding in his ears. Seeing the unreadable expressions of Dominus and the other Sith, Hess inwardly cursed his leaking emotions. Like it or not, he was an open book to all three of these Sith Lords. This could easily become a grave situation; recognizing this fact slightly sobered Hess. He took deep breaths, finally able to control his rapid breathing. Dominus took the sword from Hess and handed it to his faceless servitor. Then he introduced himself, Hess, and the other Sith- "Master Haphaestus." Interesting. They knew each other, it seemed, or were at least familiar with one another. Perhaps this Haphaestus would prove to be an ally. Darth Dominus said, "You caught us at a good time. I was instructing my apprentice on how to make himself more open to the farsight some Sith are lucky enough to experience. Perhaps you two could help me interpret his experience. Tell us, were you actually able to see anything?" Hess's eyes darted back and forth. He hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Yes...Master," Hess added carefully. He hadn't used that honorific in the past, but he needed to be careful around this audience. "When I first stepped onto this planet, I was overwhelmed by the power I felt. It was all around me, and it frightened me. But that wasn't the vision." Hess surveyed the Sith Lords. "All of a sudden, Trulalis was gone. So was Master Dominus. I felt as though nothing existed aside from myself and...and the darkness surrounding me. Even time ceased to exist." His features became cloudy. "The blackness was...it was alive. It whispered to me. It promised me anything I'd ever want. Then it showed me. It..." he fell silent for a moment. "I wanted more than just empty promises. It promised me every atom in the universe but I wanted to feel that power, not just see it. So the blackness...engulfed me. I became part of it. "I could feel the whole thing. All of the darkness, everywhere. Every horrible thing that happened, I could feel it and see it all at the same time. I... can't even begin to describe what that felt like. I...I don't know if I can." Hess hesitated once more. "I don't know if I was still me. Me or something...something else. I started to remember my name in bits and pieces, but the vision was so strong. I felt...all I can say is that it was like being God." He swallowed. "I remembered my whole name and then the vision was gone. And then I was back here, with the rest of you, and I was myself again. An individual. Me. But I don't think I'm the same. I can still sense the darkness, or the dark side or whatever the hell it's supposed to be called but it feels familiar now. Like...like we shared something. Or..." Hess didn't even want to finish, but there was no hiding secrets from the Sith. "...as if it's a part of me now." He abruptly finished, standing there without a word. He had emptied himself.

Hess barely registered Dominus's voice anymore. The Sith Master was saying that Vjun was stronger in the Force than Trulalis, that Hess could- with time- learn how to master its age-old power. That this sublime aura was merely due to the recent presence of the Sith- that it was merely their stink. That Hess was so overwhelmed by this power because he was still a learner. None of this mattered to Riktor Hess. Darth Dominus had become unreal. All that was real was Hess. Hess and the dark power flowing all around him. He had wanted to cry out mere seconds ago, but as the darkness washed over him, those seconds became minutes became hours. Became months. Years. Decades. It didn't matter. Time itself no longer existed. It never had. Only him and the blackness. All his horror had faded. Now he simply stared, fascinated, intoxicated. He could hear it speaking to him in a thousand lover's voices, promising him everything he had ever wanted. Anything he would ever want. Every atom in every corner of the entire universe- all his, if he wanted. Everything that existed- would ever exist. Power without limit. He saw it all, yet felt nothing. He never had. He wanted more- An answer to the promises. Then the blackness washed over him, and he could feel it; all of it. Totality. It washed over him and filled him and enveloped him- intimately- a lover. He smiled, sinking into the sea of blackness. He was part of it, yet it was not part of him. But he felt it now. He felt its heartbeat. Its flow. It was like cancer, or a corpse, or a black river full of dead things. It was the heart of every shadow. It was anger- and it was rage- and it was murder. It was every malign thought. It was every dying breath. It was every name cursed in despair. Every destroyed dream. Every suicide. Every rape. Every scream of a murdered child, the blood dripping down their face... r It was beautiful. i So beautiful. k He was part of it, yet it was not part of him. t Was it? o r HESS Riktor Hess jolted forward, unrestrained terror in his eyes. He was on Trulalis and there was Dominus and who was this other Sith? Rapidly, he became aware of the sword now in his hand and the expectant look on Dominus's face. They were supposed to spar until the other Sith had arrived. A friend? An enemy? Riktor didn't care. He panted and panted, heart hammering in his chest, the naked terror still plain on his face. Riktor turned a full circle, looking all over for something that wasn't there. Then he realized that, for all this time, he had been smiling and baring his teeth; a predatory animal about to pounce on its prey. Finally, trying to control his breathing, Riktor looked Darth Dominus dead on in the eyes. "I saw..." he couldn't finish. Dimly, he realized that the darkness was still around him, only now it felt as normal as sunlight. This realization unnerved him further, but Riktor forced himself to control. Hess said, "I saw a vision." He clamped his mouth shut, trying desperately not to look like some kind of weak fool in front of the two Sith. In a way, though, punishment seemed like a blessing after whatever Hess had...experienced.