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Lord Ōk Rägnär

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Lord Ōk Rägnär last won the day on August 19 2023

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  1. Dictum's laughter echoed from the precipice of Chaos back to the mortal realm of reality and his form slumped to the ground, reborn from the chaotic cocoon like the undead Dathomir Nightsisters, as he slouched in resonance. Even as the others spoke, he reveled and revered in the moment from wince Madness, Wrath, and Truth became his reborn vision, letting its mindscape flow into his being as a rancor does the fauna within their territory. And when he stood, he rose a differed being behind the Mask of the Undead. His tone deeper and darker barely muffled by it, he replied in kind. "Rest if you wish," He began, his words carrying an almost maniacal undertone as he spoke from behind his chosen veil. "But I am rejuvenated by Chaos, bathed in it's...." Before Dictum could utter another word as Akheron departed, Lord Aeon dropped unconsciously upon the floor as the resonance of Chaos flowed viciously around the trio. He saw what Aeon saw, he felt what Aeon felt. But for Dictum, there was little to no effect transpiring from the veiled realm of the Shard's chaotic mind. He simply existed in the moment upon a separate but leveled resonance. "Once we are done with Zoist, we shall venture to Yavin. If Chaos has spoken this, we shall heed its becon." Dictum spoke with a quick vindication, the realm of Chaos residing in his soul permeating as a percolator as their conjoined souls began to resonate as one. "As it is decreed, so shall it be." Letting his words linger but for a brief moment before he let his gaze fall upon Aeon in an acknowledgment of his words before Chaos' call. For where Akheron would feel Madness and Chaos, and likewise, Aeon would feel Wrath and Chaos, Dictum had become Wrath and Madness. Beneath his veiled face, the echo of the unholy trinity would display the changes taking place within the Miralukian's eye of his mind. Logic had become corrupted, almost religiously so. And conviction had become a death sentence for those whom found themselves as opposition. But more importantly so, truth was what Dictum willed it, half harbored and half distorted. It would be the will of Chaos, no matter the outcome. As the Crown of Shadows fell upon his form and engulfed him, he retreated, leaving behind the duo to contemplate this reborn reality and revelations. Meditation was needed to center his soul.
  2. To walk amongst Chaos was to accept fate and coincidence as two halves of the same token, where nothing could be connected and in it's madness, create the direction. This was what it was like for these three of the Unholy Trinity. The Jedi were beings of fate, destiny, and it's ilk. But for the Sith, those who chose to be Harbingers of Chaos, fate was what you forged of life and coincidence, the chance presented a means to an inevitable ending. This was usually true for all whom knew and embraced it. But the reality of Chaos stood more complex than what the average mind could hope to comprehend and Chaos differed for each. This was the reality of Chaos. It was the natural opposition of everything. It was death for life, it was dark for light, it was hysteria for order, it was coincidence for fate. Even as the trio treaded within it's realm, this truth that had held a grasp upon Dictum resonated within them all. Even as Wrath and Madness resonated within Dictum, a symbiotic coinhabitation of their joint souls as the ritual progressed. So when the apex apparition of Dictum chose its time to step forward and meet him within the realm of inconsistency, the two held a similar smirk as their thoughts met. Much like with the lightsided version, there wasn't really much to separate the two outside of choices and the paths that laid to their foundation. Only this one held the same foundation and inevitable outcome that Dictum walked with outstretched arms. He was Dictum, and Dictum was he, both born of the Chaos they accepted, separated only by time it's self. In a realm like Chaos, this held very little meaning except to the realm of reality. Lightsabers ignited as the blackened blades drew in the surrounding prismatic lights that gave vision and the aura of the surrounding air grew cold and dense, heavy with the natural presence of the Stillblade Crystalis. One stood a Master and the other a Lord, both content to truly divide reality from chaos and present the seeds that had been sown. There was no need for this, but neither cared nor worried. This was simply their nature, only one more refined than the other. As the blackened blade clashed and smirks turned into smiles beneath their shared masks, the apparition was the first to speak, his voice elder and corrupted by the arc of time that separated his own reality from Dictum's truth. "It has been a long time Lord Dictum. To be so young and spry again would bring me such joy." Releasing his blade from the drawn connection, and providing a brief distance before Dictum's form shifted in all directions at once, he responded as blades once again drew toward the other. And so would such power to I. But we both know that each has a place and point in its own time." As the spar continued, each toying with the other,each testing the other's true limits both in action and in thought, neither truly wished to overcome the other. For this was the first time Dictum had met his older and stronger self and the other merely wished to see which aspect of himself that he stood before. For in this game of cat and mouse, the moment and revelations were the true goal of each. "We both know which is the strongest, the more in tune with Chaos and it's true purpose." The older Dictum spoke as his form dissipated into the netherrealm of shadows, only his tone echoing across the vast void that was Chaos. "And yet, we both know that means little in this moment of time. Neither of us would wish to know our lives before our given time." "Then why tease me with the opportunity to question your reality?" Dictum responded in kind, his blade arcing over his backside as the older Dictum appeared and attempted to strike him from the rear just as one of his hidden blades came from the opposing direction in Dictum's turn and blocked in kind. A laugh erupted as the older Dictum withdrew. "For we are Chaos. And in Chaos, we are meant to sow discord and disruption. Only through the veil of truth, can men discern the lies they tell themselves, even for us." Dictum stops his progression and genuinely ponders the moment in which the elder had spoken. "And what would be our lie?" He poised suspiciously. The elder Dictum chuckles, but does not laugh, as he deactivates his blackened blade and Dictum does in kind. Removing his mask, the elder reveals his aged face and scars too numerous to discern his true identity beyond his sole presence. "That Chaos is the finality, and our just decree. We are no more than mere Harbingers of the Dark, wanton death and destruction our sin. We may have found purpose in Inmortos, but we were never free. Search your Wrath and Madness, and you will know this to be the solemn truth." A smirk erupts as he sees Dictum begin to question everything, and in his moment of weakness, the Elder Dictum made his final charge to usurp Dictum and claim his reality for his own. As the two souls intertwined and struggled for solemn control, truths and lies both became apparent. Madness was abound in the Elder, corrupted entirely by the void of Chaos that sowed his heart, and Wrath was enraged within Dictum as he learnt of Scorpio's survival when his father perished upon Tatooine. Memories from both would bind and twist in the chaos of the moment as Chaos tore open a larger void within the reality that was Dictum. And as the Elder was rejected by both Dictum and Chaos, Dictum was left a smoldering husk of himself as Chaos became his reality. With an echoing laughter, the Elder apparition faded back into his reality, his purpose fulfilled. Enraged by his cousin's survival, collectively bound to the Elder's maddening reality, Dictum stood alone in Chaos as the revelation of the blended fact sunk into his very core. He could feel its reach folding into @Solus and @Karys Narat iv-Adas as his reality settled. And in that moment, Dictum laughed. Chaos was more than it seemed.
  3. To call Dictum's Chaos a Sin was merely an afterthought, a means to describe what it essentially was. And while most Sith took the persona of a sin, Dictum was the embodiment of it. The embodiment of its original form. Wrath was a sin embodied by Akheron, and it was its purest form, anger and vengeance culminating into a blossoming bloom of pure rage. Dictum could feel it encompassing his emotions even as the realm of Chaos began to intertwine with that of reality. And Madness was a simplistic form of Pride, the unreasonable denial of truth and acceptance. It's effects could be seen through his mind's eye as the visage of Chaos became their reality in a blurred resonance. But Dictum's Chaos, his Sin, held true to its envirtuous truth. To stand upon the precipice and gaze into the realm of Chaos was to see the truth of reality in an uncomphrensible way. You could see its reflection mirroring the real world but in a twisted and malevolent way dependent upon how you perceive reality. For some, it is as simple as light and dark, or even heaven and hell. But for Dictum, it was both and neither. It is said that through Chaos, Order, or rather the need for it, is born. But it is simple and complex all in the same token. Where as Life is tamed and bridled by the choices and lessons made within, Chaos is unbridled and wild, choices nor lessons made and all perceptions envisioned within. It is infinite with the knowledge and perception of finite, and nothing is unknown in the knowing. Chaos simply is. For Dictum to stand opposite the illusion of himself in the Light, and Ōk to stand opposite of Dictum in the Dark changed little about each other save for the obvious choice either had made. Both would have lived the same life and went through the same hell that the real Dictum had until the moment that the Force changed everything. It was in its knowledge that both would change either for the better or the worse. It mattered not which side they served, for the Sin of Knowledge was still branded upon their shared souls and both understood the concept of what Chaos was in both the Light and Dark sides of the Force. Their singular difference was but a choice. For Ōk, it would have been Order and the subservient need for it. And for Dictum, it was Chaos, unbridled and free. Outside of that, there were no differences between reality and illusion. Because of this, there were no words needed to be spoken, no duel needed to be had. Both understood the reality of their interaction and both with a smirk upon their slightly differed veiled faces, both nodded to the other. In the sense of Dark and Light, both were but apparitions of the same soul. Both were selfless, both were loyal, and both were appallingly brash. And both would have sought out their perspective paths to understand their Father and when the crossroads came to pass, left him behind to pursue their own. And as the souls began to attempt their feast upon Dictum's form, Ōk simple walked past Dictum and dissipated into the artherium of the veil between life and death as the Force surrounded Dictum's unconscious form to shield it from the hungered souls. Ōk Rägnär simple was who he was, whether Light or Dark, and even an illusion of himself would know this singular truth. In all realities of every universe across the cosmic multiverse, Ōk would inevitably take up the mantle of Darth Dictum and his decree would be one of Chaos' singular truth. That in the natural order of life and death, there was a time and place for everything and anything. Where the Force was Life, Chaos was Death. And every beginning must have it's end. Dictum's Decree would be that End.
  4. As Lord Akheron began his ritual, Dictum stared almost attentively at Aeon as the Shard revealed his resting place within his metallic form, the brandishing of his true form as a combination of sentience and Droid, born of crystalline and ore, a creation of Chaos and Hell it's self. It was a rare sight, even for one who sees of the Force and the Mind's Eye. Slowly, he could feel the voice of Chaos growing closer. For Dictum, the call would be a memberance for those who regained their vision after it's loss, blurred and distorted at first. But as the looming call of Chaos grew stronger and louder amidst his Mind's Eye, clarity would come and focus would set in metaphorically as it grew and the veil became lifted. And when the veil became non-existent, he would see Chaos in its glory and once again know its hellish landscape. And in that moment, he would know the Shard's Madness as his own, just as he would know the Lord's Wrath. "Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!" Dictum's words rolled off his tongue roughly as he joined in the chat, stepping up to the alter and pulling the Sith Sword from beneath his Robes as he ran the blade across his forearm and let the blood pour slowly to a trickle into the chalice below. "Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!" Akheron may have been the vessel upon which Chaos' call came into being, but as the chanting called upon it, it would be Dictum's cracked soul upon which Chaos would answer and the veil lifted. That which resided within him, the sliver of Chaos that had intertwined within his soul, would become the key to it's unlocking. And as the word's echoed into its beyond, the key would be turned. As Wrath joined with Madness, another would join the fray. That which made up Dictum's solemn endeavor: Sin. It was through the Knowledge of Sin that wrought the darkness and birthed Chaos, a singular defiance of all that was considered holy and sacred and defined the differences between good and evil, and within its own, divided the natural order. And it laid within the core of Dictum's harbored soul. This was his Darkness, his unholy decree. Without it, none would exist. Each would come differently, whether in wrath, sloth, pride, or lust, just to name a few. But without Sin, without Defiance, it would slowly slumber. And in Dictum's Sin, came it's knowledge and why Chaos chose him as a vassal, a seed sown to harvest. Combined with Wrath and Madness, it would only bring intensity. "Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!"
  5. The realm of Chaos, or as known by the Corellians, hell; was a realm of darkness of despair, a realm of eternal damnation for those whom walked against the bonds of nature and sought to control reality its self. It was the realm of Bogan, of the Darkside its self and was eternal even before the Je'daii ever held a name for it. And it resonated within the very fabric and manifestation of Dictum's own soul. He and Chaos were one. As Akheron went about his own devices, and Aeon did the same, Dictum stood alone, draped in the bloodstained hides he had fashioned his robes from, leathered skins stained with the purple hue of the Undead that beaconed at Inmortos will whom he faced atop the spire of this very ship. And in his pocket, his prize, granted by the Undead God King himself. Reaching into it, he pulled the unnatural crystal forth and let it hover within his palm. It was the Stillblade Crystalis, a crystal usually reserved for the few Cyromancers whom held the knowledge to properly use, a forethought gifted by the crystal when he first picked it up. He knew he could never full possess its abilities, but as the crystal floated above his palm, he could feel its unnaturally cold resonance speaking to him as all light that surrounded it became a darkness to its hunger. Dictum may have been a man of logic, but even he knew these crystals held a symbiotic sentience within themselves as all crystals did, a communion between them and the Force they intertwined with whether it be light or dark. And so he let its sentience guide him through the halls of Inmortos' ship, hungering for the shell that would confine its power and harness it. And so the trek to build its hilt began. Most of the parts were eerily easy to find, almost as if the Undead God King held prior knowledge of this occurrence, bringing a smirk to the hidden face of Dictum as he progressed. But for the casing, it held a different view that made the Sith Lord a little uneasy as he made his approach upon a collection of Soulfrost, a type of ore in which the souls claimed by the Necromancer resided. As Dictum brought his palm close to the ice like ore, feeling the souls within attempting to prey upon his soul, the symbiosis connection between Dictum and the Crystalis tamed the Soulfrost and ensnared the souls within as the Soulfrost became liquid as it wrapped itself around the components and the Stillblade Crystalis contained within. Feeling the cold creep around his fingers and encase the crystal and components, it became solid again and Dictum gripped its cold form tightly as he reached into his connection to the crystal and activated it. With the screams of the Undead, the Stillblade sprung to life, it's blackened blade engulfing all light around that surrounded it and feeding the hungered souls that were contained within its hilt rather than upon the soul of Dictum himself. And yet, the blade did not hum like most lightsabers, an eerie quiet amongst the backdrop of the room where they stood. A silent blade for the Assassin that was Dictum with only the screams of the Undead signaling its activation. A fitting prize indeed. Deactivating it, Dictum clipped it to his hip where the other once sat, feeling the hungered spirits nawing at his soul. And yet, his connection to the realm of Chaos would be its answer, as it fed the spirits rather than his own soul. Feeling this, Dictum smirk grew into a devilish grin. The Undead God King knew exactly what he was forging in Dictum. Hearing the call of Akheron, Dictum returned to the others. He said not a word upon his arrival, and stood opposite the others. Chaos continued its call to the Assassin, and it was time to answer it once again.
  6. Dictum nodded at Aeon's bowing, a sentiment that the young Lord was beginning to see through his madness and into the reality it warped callously. While madness was a fickle ally of the Darkness, an empowering aspect of one's nature, it could easily subdue just as it would embolden. Similar to Dictum's own sight. "When one lives in the Dark, one knows the Dark." Dictum replied. "It is a common misconception that the Miraluka lineage I descend from have a imbued sight in our blindness, but it's not entirely truth. Nor is it similar to any whom have lost the gift of sight only to find it again in the Force. For our sight is through evolution, designed specifically for our survival upon our lost homeworld." But neither was Dictum completely Miralukian, only a hybrid who managed to survive birth and found his bones brittle and meek because of this. "Think of seeing eternal darkness, with only the most subtle of shifts between the veil of Darkness and the shadows contained within. Then add in emotions, intent, sounds, smell, and perhaps you gain an understanding. But the truth of our ability to see isn't visual, but in that understanding alone. Our minds comprehend reality." Just as he finished speaking to Aeon, both Inmortos and Akheron interjected, causing Dictum to feel a mixture of praise and threat as his grotesque face took on a stern form beneath the Mask of Death, and for a brief moment his hands fell to his sides where his blades nestled quietly. If their choice came to attempting to rid themselves of him, he knew the outcome would be dire, especially for him. But he would not go quietly, a quality that Ragnus knew all too well of his son. And yet, offers were made and Dictum relaxed his stance casually but cautiously. "Make no mistake here..." Dictum began as Akheron finished speaking, his tone stern and yet equal as he spoke his humbled truth. "I made no resistance to bonding with you, God-King Inmortos, as it proves to be beneficial to us both. But to slay me would prove problematic and wasted efforts. For my soul is yours, both in life, and in death, but my conscious is still my own and is the most valuable tool you have at your disposal." His gaze shifts to Akheron. "I have never been a religious being, nor do I plan on being one. Chaos bore me into this world for the sole purpose of sowing it's seeds, and Chaos resides in me. There can be no other. For Chaos is the progression of Life and the path to Death, it's lessons taught daily to all who breath and it's knowledge retained by those who do not. When I entered it's realm to bring you back, it chose to join with me, and from it, I now understand my purpose, a labor I have sought since I began this path of the Sith...." "For your first offer, I must decline." Letting his words sink in, Dictum witnessed the truth of Inmortos' world as it came to life. While he had considered it's possibility, the truth was highly unlikely. And yet, as the area where they stood rose toward the heavens, Dictum nodded in agreement. He may not have been a religious zealot, but he was logical and hungered endlessly for power forged within himself alone. He may not covet what the others possessed, but he did covet what he held within his own soul and the path to attain it. And as Inmortos' proposed his own to the others, Dictum finished. "As to your second offer..." This time Dictum's blinded gaze fell upon both Akheron and Inmortos, the hidden stern form subsiding. "As I said in the beginning, our paths crossed at Helvault for a reason, and here we stand. Through the two of you, I have grown, surpassed both my Father and my former Master, and found my purpose in Chaos. And yet, our time together has yet to reach a conclusion. Until then, you both have my blades and my skill..." His gaze focuses on Inmortos alone. "And my soul." With a nod, Dictum agrees. "We are all but one. Let us bind ourselves as one and finish what began here beneath our feet with the Baptism of Blood." His gaze shifts to Inmortos. "Let us bind ourselves not as Sith, but as brothers."
  7. It was an culmination and climax of what wrought Dictum for Aaris III as the fierce battle began, the Lord of Chaos enveloped on all sides by the vengeance of Death and the decree of the Undead. In unison, the first wave of those who hunkered for his life struck at his form as he reeled into the netherworld veil between life and death, his form briefly splitting in all directions as he attempted to step soundly out of harm's reach. As blades clashed against shadows, Dictum felt the first of their hatred, razor-sharp edge against skin as it slide across leathered hide. Almost instantly, the dripping blood clotted against the frozen aura that fileted flesh. It was but a momentary wince as the dulled pain slithered beneath his skin, the corrupted breath of Chaos coming to his call as he outstretched his hand with blade still griped, sending a beckon toward the one that had cut his form and bringing forth the undead to return it towards it's eternal rest. With the blade and fist buried in the chest of the singular opponent, it returned to the ashened dust from wince it had came and the others came to call in its defense and Dictum's sole focus fell upon their plight. His shadowed crown draped his form as the Shadows of Chaos enveloped him as his form shifted to meet them. One was doomed and five remained. With a subtle spin, the twin blades became like a gaping maw enticed to feast upon undead blood as they sliced across rotted flesh, one decapitated and the other one finding his legs useless in the brief moment. And yet, legs useless did not waver their spite, and Dictum gazed upon it as it crawled toward him with an eerie glee. With a twist of the wrist, however, his blade ended its advance before the decapitated one had even fell to his eternal rest. Even as he spun and defended, Dictum had begun to notice a slag in his step, a falling weakness envelope his form, a brief thought of wonderment crossing his mind. He felt the rejuvenation of Chaos at his call, but even as he remained fairly unwounded, he felt the subtle encompassing of his energy and life-force being drawn. It wasn't until he crossed his blades in defense of the blade belonging to the flesh hungered maw that snapped viciously at his face that he truly defined what sapped at his strength. For with each draw toward his opponents, they lapped at his soul with grimace as they drew upon Inmortos' wound upon Dictum's soul. With a lunge backwards upon the steps that led to the Throne, Dictum distanced himself. So this was their game? This was their hunger personified? Inmortos' skill with the undead held no punches. The Sith Lord found himself at a disadvantage against these machinations of his. As he reeled from their attacks, keeping himself at a distance, he pondered his options and weighed the outcomes. Three remained, but even at these odds, Dictum could very well fall rather quickly to their gluttony, a gluttony he himself matched only in his lust for power. Chaos swirled in the recesses of his mind's eye, not only the undead against him, but the entirety of Aaris III beckoning to claim his soul as a part of it's own, a testament to the will of a Sith Master compared to his own. With the possibility of his own death looming, Dictum found a certain pleasure in the moment before him, a grin creasing across his face beneath the veiled Mask. Inmortos... He who was Master of this world and of the next, the fragmented God King of the veil between life and Chaos. He had forged for Dictum a path that none had walked before, a path of enlightenment and sown Chaos. And Dictum had began this path willingly and susceptible to its influencing decree without little thought to its consequence or price. There was no regret found in this. For Dictum had found power unparalleled within, both in Chaos and in himself. A fact he was willing to testify to, and speak of for decades to come. But in this moment, with his eternal soul upon the precipice of damnation, he found the greatest of his testimonials. The stairs grew darker as his shadow solidified and lashed outwards, finding solace upon the damned souls before him and breaking their will against his own, a sudden influence of the frozen world found upon his soul as he accepted his fate. Chaos became his will, and the shackles that once bounded him to his own crumbled to dust as his soul found freedom in solitude. Where others sought personal gain, Dictum now let it wash away, melted by acceptance of a decree not his own. And before the undead could react, Dictum stood amongst them, blades finding their sheaths as each soul entered the beyond. The call of the storm subsided, and Aaris III filled the void where the portion of his soul found emptiness. And as the doors of the Throne Room parted, the darkness within flickered against the breaking daylight that illuminated its innards as Dictum stepped within. His gaze briefly shifted toward the throne that was Inmortos' rightful place, but lingerie not more than a glance as he reached down and plucked his prize before he departed like a brisk breeze and the Throne Room returned to its former inglory. And below, amidst the trio of gathered Sith, Dictum reappeared. "Aeon...." Dictum's voice decreed upon his arrival. "It is not temperament that is your's to learn. Your Madness is your greatest of strengths, and it is to be coveted. No. Your's to learn is that your deity goes by many names, and it's will uncomprehendable to your view alone. Chaos, Darkness, the Darkside of the Force, Death... it is all the same seeds meant to be sown and our ranks are merely the depth of our understanding of it's will." His blinded gaze shifts between the presences of Akheron and Inmortos before falling solely upon Solus. "In the end, we are all but it's blessed Harbingers, it's will our own. For we are Sith." (2 of 2)
  8. Dictum sat backwards upon his legs, reeling from his seating upon the precipice of the veiled worlds as his gaze caught that of Inmortos, his scarring face bubbling a concoction of pus, saliva, and ichor with each breath he took in his agony. There was revelation and fear still in his heart as he gazed upon what Inmortos truly was, not as a person, but what power he foretold, a mixture of respect and reverence in their differences. And yet, in the same token of their conjoined souls, a grandeur of understanding that needed no words to be spoken. Feeling not only the power he commanded behind his words, but the very meaning of the words themselves, Dictum heeded them with a subtle but gestured nod. His focus may have been upon the forefront of his mind's eye, but he had long felt and known of the Master and Apprentice's strife above. With Inmortos' departure, Dictum sat alone in the darkened tomb until his form found it's will to move. Darkness was his home, but in the realm of Chaos, Darkness was his existence. Not only was it through which he saw the worlds around him, nor only what he felt in the currents that swirled around his form, but Darkness was his understanding and knowledge. It came naturally as the dawn of daybreak or the dusk of nightfall to any blind being, but more so for Dictum, a decree of existence that few could comprehend. And in the veiled confines of Darkness, Dictum often found his solace, his center. And that was what Aaris III slowly grew to become for this Assassin of the Sith Order, a veiled world of Darkness that centered and confined his soul's understanding. Even the rigid air felt corporeal to his form as he began his ascension and his lungs found new strength in his climb. It no longer took the extensive will it once did to recover from exhaustion, nor did the weight of his form feel of burden and weight. Even as his trek led to the surface, he felt rejuvenated by its cold exterior, felt sustained by it's arid existence. Beneath the Mask of the Dead he adorned and the Robes of Flesh that encompassed him, he felt unfaltered. But this world had yet to completely accept him. Even as he climbed the stretch of stairs the led to its overlook, it whipped and battered at his form with ferocity unfathomable. And yet, he remained solid against its onslaught, the blinded Dictum sturdy as he climbed toward the spire's top. But what Dictum had failed to notice upon his climb was the wound upon which Inmortos had inflicted upon his soul, the voided crevasse he had clawed into its incorporeal form had left him a temporary weakness the world sought to exploit. And it would either end him or become a part of him in the end of his traverse. Like a beacon, he loomed an attraction toward the darkness that sought him out as the veil between the Living World and the Realm of Chaos thinned. And below and above him, the undead came to call, a final test of his resolve. Spirit turned to flesh and maws ached with hunger as the undead became corporeal with vengeance, destined to either feast upon his life or be bound to his will upon these steps that led to his rise or fall. Empowered by Aaris III, Dictum would find no allies this time around. Blades in hand, he stood at the ready, and at his back, the Darkness of Chaos swirled vigorously. (1 of 2)
  9. As an Assassin, Dictum's knowledge of the Dark Arts performed by the castes of Sith Sorcerers was vaguely limited and estimated. His own realm was that of the Shadows, Death, and Chaos, a realm that few walked with sanity and decree. For him to assume anything of the veils beyond was mere stipulation and guess-work. And so, it did not surprise him of the reality in which he had mistook. As Inmortos appeared behind him, he turned to greet the Sorcerer with a degree of respect and acclaim. But that held no extended pleasure as the Master's words etched themselves in his mind and in his soul. For Inmortos' own reality soon forged its self upon Dictum's own. And in that very moment, as two realities collided, his just reward was just that. And in its consummation, became more. As finger plunged flesh, the seeping of soulfrost encapsulating the puncture, Dictum found himself delving a deeper understanding of pain, fear, and gluttony as Inmortos scratched upon his soul. There were no words that could allow comprehension of what transpired, only a simple layman's term could give subtle hints as emotions swept at Dictum's mind and soul. For pain stood at the forefront, inconceivable pain that treated both consciousness and spirit, and in the moment, fear compared to deathly fright filled his mind with anguish and agony. But Dictum's soul was not without strength, and it stood welcoming as the revelation of power consumed his heart gluttonously. Even as his form trembled and his soul ached in pain and fear, an almost freezing paralysis station of being, deep within the soul that Inmortos touched, a deep well of hunger resided, threatening to consume both. Yet, as Inmortos' finger found its scarred crevasse, and with a single motion tore out a portion of Dictum's soul, the world trembled at its awakened power. And in its final moments, Dictum fell to all four. Gasping for air, Dictum's strength wavered immensely as his weak bones threatened to crumble beneath his weight. He coughed, then gagged, before ichor vomited from his mouth and his gaze struggled to watch the moments as they transpired. But his hunger remained, the gluttonous depravity lingering in his soul as he held onto his power. And as the dust settled figuratively and the rumbling stone settled physically, Dictum found strength to rise once again to his feet as the crystals sealed his wound. Hearing the movements beside him, Dictum's gaze turned toward the mummified remains as they lifted from their sleep with true revelation. Dictum had offered his soul, and in it's acceptance, the devil arose. Now the time to unleash hell grew even closer. And upon the precipice of Chaos, Dictum stood between two worlds. No longer was he a mere Assassin of the Sith. No, he had became more, a living blade that stood at Death's Door. And in his gaze, he saw his mission. He was to answer those who came to knock. He was to be the voice of Chaos. He was, is, Death's Divinity. He would sow it's seeds and reap it's harvest as Harbinger.
  10. The Force flowed so effortlessly upon the minds of all as the shadows withheld certain knowledge and presence, a blind man hidden within the veil he had placed upon each's eyes. And yet, just as effortlessly as he hid himself, Dictum did in return reveal himself at Inmortos' brief return. Draped in the skins of the undead as coagulated blood hung upon its form, Dictum stepped forth a new being of death and despair, a Lord of the Dark, bound by the Chaos he now represented wholeheartedly. Beneath the mask, his grin turned to a grimace, the being that was Solus so close to understanding the precipice he stood upon and yet had allowed the madness to forsake him just as so many before him had. Just as Ōk's own father had. Dictum silently wondered if Solus was but a mere reflection of himself, and yet, his mind spoke against this possible revelation, Chaos and Madness two separate realms within the same existence. Madness was the sole revelation of truth. Chaos was it's understanding and acceptance. Solus had yet to find its truth completely. In his Madness, he worshipped the seeds of Chaos rather than planting them. As the two began their ritual and departed, Dictum stretched out his hand and called forth to him the Blade of Inmortos, his hand nearly frozen completely upon its touch and burnt by its touch. But he flinched not a inch as he clipped it to his hip where the one he had gifted Akheron once resided and turned to make his own departure as the veil once again draped the eyes of all and his form seemed to disappate into the Shadows that engulfed him. For his mission was another moment of potential risk and reward, an aspect of eternity broken. His mission was to raise the God King of Death, and it would require a portion of blood and spirit. Heading from wince he had came, he returned to the Library where Inmortos' knowledge laid, the Guardian within revealing the crypt that housed Inmortos' true flesh and bone. For the revelation of the Library still hung upon his mind, the many realms that resided the focal of his power and thought. For the truth was that the library was the mind of Inmortos, an illusion created to hide the carcass of the Sith Master. With a humble bow, he spoke. "It is time for Lord Inmortos to rise as himself and not as a wraith of his power." Inmortos spoke, laying the Blade in the hand of the body found within as the Illusion was swept away by Dictum's own mind. Turning his blind gaze to the Guardian that had protected this tomb during their last visit, he finished. "Or should I say that you should rise?" Dictum grinned behind the mask that concealed his face, the holes that were made to reveal eyes flickering a somber gold as the revelation was spoken. It wasn't a hard one to figure out, for Aaris III was an extension of Inmortos' power, and everything there was forged from it. It only made sense that the crypt within the Illusion of the Library was Inmortos true form, and who better to hide this than the God King of Death, Inmortos himself. But why not return himself? Equivalent exchange. Inmortos was bound to this world. It required a soul for a soul. And if Inmortos was to truly be free of the portion of his soul he had bound to this world, then a portion of another would need to be offered willingly. This was the price Dictum had come to offer. A portion of his soul to the God King. A gift worth gifting.
  11. As Dictum stood beside @Bernon Mrrgwharr, he outstretched a single arm as @Solus began to taunt and belittle his Master, both disgusted and intrigued by the Shard's words. It was true that Apprentices must always rise above their Masters, most done so in the heat of battle or in the silence of the Shadows just as Dictum had done. But to hide behind persecution based on false religions felt trivial to Dictum at best. If Solus felt he had earned his Freedom, he should own it as his own and not the will of another. Still, it was not his place to judge nor interfere, for this was a matter between teacher and student, and this was why he had placed his arm before Bernon. His gaze shifted to the Warrior Apprentice with a grotesque nod of his disfigured face from @Karys Narat iv-Adas's rebirth before turning to the Sith Master with another. No words needed to be spoken. This was the way. This was what it meant to be Sith. Only a duel between the two would decide which stood correct. And yet, the arid air of Aaris III shifted in its current, an almost unnatural shift that rose above the usual that Inmortos had long given it. It was like adding black dye to a fount of blackened blood simply to darken it a degree more. Or seeing shadows shift about in the darkness of pitch black. You swear you could sense it, but cannot truly discern whether you had. This caused Dictum's sense to heighten onto a precipice of alertness out of instinct. And with it, an awareness. A blur of darkness managed to catch his mind's eye but a brief second before the ground of Aaris III erupted from beneath his feet, sending the Assassin reeling from his previous location. With but a brief second, twin diagonal cuts found themselves upon the beasts form as his form twisted and contoured away, a blackened ooze dripping from the two blades. The Sith Poison had been released. Landing upon the culminating snow, Dictum yelled but a frightening word to the others as the revelation of what they faced took hold of his delving. This beast was not to be trifled with and Dictum had already made the first strike. "Run!"
  12. As the heat of battle began to cool in the closing of the veil, the air became reminiscent of the soulfrost the hung upon the walls of Inmortos creations. Fog filled tomb and his breath visually hastened as his form threatened to tear itself asunder in every direction. In the eyes of the dead, his true form was undetectable, and for a brief second, fear could be found in its gaze until release found its way into the demon's heart and torment once again filled its soul. Blade removed from its skull, it fell lifeless upon the ground, the masque that it once wore in life falling upon the ground beside it and revealing the being that once hid behind it. Dictum bent down and grasped the mask, his mind's eye gazing upon the poor sod. So powerless. So refined to its own damnation created by its own machinations. Never had it truly grasped the concept that was Chaos, and never had it accepted Chaos as its own. That was its true damnation. Chaos swirled in Dictum's mind and guided his blades as he fileted small slivers of the dead's skin, first with the one he gazed upon, then upon the others until he held enough hide to fold away in his Satchel. And then he turned as the voice spoke and the elder of Inmortos was revealed. There was much respect given to the bound soul that was the caretaker of Inmortos' tomb and library, a remembrance of what sacrifice and liberties it forgave in order to hold such sway and power as it did. And so Dictum listened and understood as it gave their final orders and lifted them from its halls and into the reality of the Galaxy at large. Gazing upon the others, Dictum only gave a solemn nod before heading up the stairs that led to the world above. At least until another voice pierced the reality the resided within and threatened to grow them all mad. And with it, a presence he had to come to know all too familiarly. Tuning the screeches down, Dictum turned to Akheron and spoke. "Your Apprentice beacons." Folding the layers of the undead skin and placing them into his Satchel, Dictum turned back to the surface. There was semblance of music to the shard's screams, or at least to the Miralukian's ears of Chaos, that was how it came to be perceived. But as the trio crossed the threshold above, Dictum saw the abomination he had conjured as his gaze peered across the landscape. With open arms, he yelled across the surface toward Solus. "Welcome!
  13. Before Akheron could finish his sentence, Dictum's lightsaber ignited and found its self thrown in the direction of the Master's hand as the Blackened Shadows sprung his crown and cloaked his form. The weak one's sought the Sith Master and Dictum was guilty by association as his hands sought and firmly reverse gripped the Shanto Sith Swords. If the souls of Chaos sought to reclaim Akheron, then they would have to shatter the Lord's decree and to do so would invoke his judgement. His grotesquely disfigured face smirked at such a thought, the weaker souls of Chaos seeking to place him as judge, jury, and executioner of their eternal damnation and he immediately reacted. Influential was the Cloak of Lies that engulfed his form, even for the minds of spirits and his presence became their own as he traced across the distance between Chaos and the mortal realm and as the ghoulish prisoners of Chaos sought out Akheron, Dictum's blades sought them. Before the illusion of the Cloak of Lies could be discerned by their stagnant minds, souls felt the piercing cold of darkness and steel as the blades sought to return them to the afterlife. To the average onlooker, it would appear that ghoul fought ghoul as the Cloak of Lies settled its spell upon the unprotected mind amidst the onslaught of Chaos. But for those versed in mental protection or in the Force, Dictum's true form would be visible from beneath the shadows. Blade shattered rotted bone and tore through stagnant flesh as Ghoul fell after Ghoul to his Sithly Blades, the gluttony for souls and the lust for blood echoing from their starved steel as they met the undead in a ravenous dance, empowered by the Sith Lord known as Dictum in his decree that Akheron would stay. An unholy mixture of the bound Chaos within Dictum swirled with the Darkness that plagued and corrupted the Force he bound to his will as he kept up the facade and honed his attacks with each passing blinded ghoul failed to seek him out. And upon his face, beneath the blackened Cloak, steam seemed to erupt through his bloodied cheek, a mixture of the blackened blood of the ghouls and his own as he lapped at it with it determination. There was true happiness upon his gaze. All that remained was for Inmortos to close the torn veil to Chaos and for the others to finish off the souls that sought Akheron. But in the meantime, Dictum was having the time of his life, completely unaware of Aaris III had gifted him.
  14. As Akheron reached out for his hand, Dictum grasped the Tsis' forearm like a brother, clinched and strong as he felt Inmortos' pull from the netherrealm of Chaos, his spirit and mind being torn back to the realm of the living as he clenched the wraith's soul tightly in their binding. There was honor in the Tsis' words that came naturally across the mind, words that rang true within the depths of Chaos. If Akheron had truly chosen a rival in @Sandy Sarna, it was his duty to strengthen them just as it was their duty to strengthen him. There was no higher honor for such an enemy. As Dictum's mind crossed the threshold back to the realm of the living, the Chaos that had bound a part of its self to his soul remained within him just as a portion of his soul remained in Chaos, not simply an essence of words nor of flattery, but out of necessity for one to have walked within its realms as a mortal. For the truth of Chaos was a lifelong understanding that things live and things die just as eternity truly holds an end with its beginning. In the madness, there is clarity. Destruction is the natural order of things. Settling within his form, visions of the mortal realm returned and Chaos grew silent upon the wind of Aaris III just as everything did, a precipice world upon the veil that lingers between the Galaxy and the after. Inmortos' chanting grew into an otherworldly screech as hands departed their grasps and some flesh of the Death King remained within his grasp as the Master feel upon the tombs floor within his convulsions, the aura of Sith Magic rippling like waves upon nearby shores as it pounded upon the cliffs. With the understanding of Chaos still fresh upon his mind, Dictum began to understand his place amongst these Keepers of the Dark. Shifting his gaze toward the flailing Sith Master, Dictum felt an unknowing pain encompass the front portion of his form, causing his gaze to quickly shift forward as the Boiling Blood exploded from the sarcophagus with a fine mist, Akheron's form revealed from beneath its wake briefly before anger, rage, gluttony, and illusion wrapped around his mind like primordial ooze as it set his mind and soul aflame. It's sting was unlike any he had ever felt before, including that of a lightsaber, and it seemed to barrow deep within his form like acid across his flesh. And as Blood mixed with Blood, the trio became an unholy baptismal within the confines of Inmortos' realms. Before Dictum's mind succumbed to the madness of the unholy baptismal, he could feel his blood explode from the blisters that erupted from the scalded blood before burrowing down deep into the marrow of his weakened bones. And then Darkness took him. Darkness is as Darkness does, this unholy trinity born from the blood bathed baptismal, without ryhmn nor reason. Like the Force, it holds a will of its own, and it's will was meant to bind these three Lords together. Distorted thoughts flashed before his mind's eyes, thoughts from the minds of @Karys Narat iv-Adas and @Krath Inmortos flooding his mind in utter madness that neither could be told from the other until it formed a swirling vortex of multiple identities, a barrage of Chaos and Madness that left one feeling beyond comphrehensionable and utterly mad. And from that vortex of madness, for Dictum, came twin presences bound not only in flesh, but in spirit as he could feel Ahkeron and Inmortos within his own skin. And as conscious returned, Dictum stood up scarred and disfigured. Part of Dictum's face dripped upon the floor where he stood, revealing the muscle and bone beneath. Skin stuck to cloth where holes were now present and the flesh beneath melted like butter. Blood oozed from his wounds and cloth drizzled down like heated icing upon his once angelic cake of a form. But this didn't bother Dictum, nor did he feel pain as he typically would. No. He felt almost joyous, rejuvenated even, as he stood before the others grotesque and deformed. For he was bounded to these two, eternally. In his chaotic mind, this meant he was among them. He was truly Sith. Offering both his hands to them, one to Akheron and the other to Inmortos, he smirked. What was Chaos' plan in this? Or did it even have one?
  15. A smile crept across Dictum's face at the mention of eternal damnation, a pleasure found within the prospects as an Avatar of the Darkness creeping up his spine akin to the common description of fear. And yet, he did not understand why nor did he know where the pleasure span from. Only that it drove a sense of euphoria across his form and within his mind's eye at such a subtle mention, almost as if he had succumbed to such a fate subconsciously. Still, such praise from a Master like Inmortos was a pleasure in its own right. Taking Inmortos' fileted hand within his own, and Bernon's in his other, the triage began to meld their minds upon the plane of death, using Inmortos' knowledge and skill as a precipice to a realm where only Death could normally transport them. He could sense each's own experience upon this plane of existence, separate from his own and intertwined. It was as if each experienced this place upon different levels despite the realm existing separate from the one they remained as their minds traversed the veil. For Inmortos, it was familiar as the skin that rotted his corpse or the cold that enveloped his form. His knowledge was secretive, and yet, he allowed brief respite for their immatured mind's to follow his. For Bernon, it was excitement and wonder, something akin to Dictum's own, but newborn. There was even a hint of miscontrol. But for Dictum, this realm of hellfire and brimstone was adjusted to his own, something familiar and yet chaos sustained it. Almost like looking at the real world through the looking glass of the darkened abyss. It felt intrusive, like the realm sought to claim him. Dictum almost welcomed it. It was not known whether Inmortos or Bernon could feel what was transpiring within Dictum as his presence flowed through the veil between the two realms, but as his mind's eye stepped through the boundary that separated the two, a part of the realm bound within him and he within it. There was chaos that shifted in his existence and he into the chaos. And for a brief moment, the hunger for power turned from lust into gluttony. Dictum's smile only widened at this moment and the chaos shimmered an eerie yellow where his eyes would have been. "So this is the decree of Chaos, the truth of the Darkness." Dictum spoke in near silence as his mind settled on the plane, his form standing amidst the storm of heat and damnation. "This is the knowledge Inmortos understands. That for every beginning there is an end, and nothing holds exemption to this law. Interesting." As Bernon's taunts began, Dictum's mind wandered the realm and its existence. A communal between the Sith Lord and his destination. His true homeworld, just as it was for all those who understood the Darkness. Only those with weakness in their hearts could be bound to its damnation. But not he. Not Inmortos. Not Akheron. Perhaps even, Bernon once he understood the lesson of this hell. For in Chaos, they were Kings. It was its will they were bound to. And in their bindings to it, that freedom from the mortal realm was ensnared. That was their purpose, to sow the seeds of Chaos and allow its reach into the beyond. As pleasant as his time here was, he still came here with a mission and his mind turned back to the task at hand. He was here for Akheron, to break free the Sith Master from his prematurely placement within their homeworld. As Bernon passed Dictum with Akheron upon his heels, the Sith Lord intervened. "Lord Akheron, calm yourself." Dictum's voice came across bold and near degrading as he stepped between the two's chase. "His taunts were to gather your attention, nothing more. And now that we have it, his job is done and mine now begins." Dictum smirks as the yellowish orange glow shimmers beneath his veil, enlightening the grin that encompasses his face as he stands firmly in intent, a single hand outstretched to stop the Sith Master in his tracks, forcefully if need be. Forget what transpired upon Falleen. Whatever defeat transpired is no longer of consequence. We understood that it may have happened even before you departed. Let the Sovereign have it." Dictum let his words billow across the realm as his focus fell upon Akheron and his demeanor. "A defeat is a defeat. Falleen was a trivial world and your defending it unsanctioned by our Dark Lady. This was your punishment for allowing your rage and wrath to beacon its own will. A punishment that you have paid. And now it's your time to return to the mortal realm and depart Chaos." Dictum's outstretched hand now turned its palm up, a hand offered to the Sith Master's own. "Come brother. There is much to do. Chaos beacons us to return and prepare. Your weakness over Falleen has now given you a lesson to be learnt. And you must learn it in order to truly grasp its transgression. Take my hand, return to the mortal realm, and grow from this. This is Chaos' will."
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