Haphaestus

"Nay," spake the metalsmith. "All that I require with mine own hand shall be earned." But then his masked countenance did slightly tilt. "But as metal sharpens metal, so should the Sith sharpen each other. Pray send word to me or my agents should in your conquests you encounter some craftsman's artifact or new material that into my forge I might take. There are yet mysteries to be unraveled, and in time the fruit of my studies may serve mightily the Order." In truth Haphaestus desired little from Exodus. He cared not for any status that the Dark Lord might bequeath, for such things were perishable or indeed could earn the ire of his inevitable successor. Knowledge, however, would last until the end of Haphaestus' days, which due to his nature were uncountable. "Now I shall depart, if our business is concluded."

Though the chamber at large had been raised to a great heat, the air around the metalsmith bore a winter's chill, its energy repurposed. "Your facility is impressive, Lord Exodus, though its tools and forges are better suited to other laborers," Haphaestus spoke. His craft required not anvil nor hammer nor any tool more advanced. "But come, let us see if what I have created is with your approval met." He led the Dark Lord to the back wall of the chamber, the chilled air that behind him trailed quickly warming. There displayed were the pieces six; breastplate and hauberk, gauntlet long, cuisses paired and spaulders banded. They were art and armor both, blacker than night and inlaid with silver, things brand new but seemingly out of their time, artifacts priceless from the moment of their fabrication. "Though they are light to wear, no weapon I have yet encountered can defeat them," the artificer explained. "Take them up, if it pleases you, to measure their fit."

"Maker. They come." In the heart of the forge, Haphaestus stirred at the report of the Deimos unit. Upon his craft its final embellishments he had wrought and now it awaited its new master. Flawless craft, the pieces stalwart expressed the aptitude of their maker in form and function with their mere existence better than words of mortals could relate. Haphaestus was not a fickle craftsman, discontented with even his greatest works and so driven to in fits of ire rearrange and reconstruct them to better reflect his vision wavering. No; his vision was immaculate and he bent the universe to realize it in metal or whatever medium, and the universe was better for having such creations indwell it. "See the Dark Lord and his guests here, that he may survey that which has been prepared for him," he commanded.

When into the forge he went, and having gathered about him all manner of metals refined and unrefined, into his work Haphaestus committed himself. The furnaces burned hot, their mouths agape until the whole room sweltered in their heat as would the crater of a volcano. Then with the Force and his ancient arts he drew the heat into himself and through him to the darkmetal which began to take a new shape though under no hammer visible. Dross emerged in its working and separated itself to drift aside in orderly fashion to await disposal. As this proceeded Haphaestus unmoving sat upon the floor, his only tool his mind. In the shimmering air before him the pieces formed: A breastplate with hauberk attached. It was to Exodus' statuesque physique exactingly fitted as per Haphaestus' scanner-aided observations, emphasizing human form idealized. In heraldry it did the Spider evoke, stylized in a fashion with the ancient Sith and Haphaestus' own work consistent, kissed by runes in his formal script. Black as raven's feathers, the plate was graced with silver linings sparingly inlaid. A single gauntlet, light but strong, to protect the Dark Lord's sword hand and forearm during duels of blades. It bore no mark of machine, but patterns and etchings intricate, deliberate and yet arcane, inspirations of a mind unknowable in origin and age, at once both calculating and creative. Each finger of the gauntlet was tailor-made, and the piece would fit Exodus' hand better than any glove it had before worn, protective without impeding dexterity. Cuisses sheer and fitted, should Exodus desire their protection additional. Darkmetal was hard and so the piece could remain thin while yet remaining protective. The pieces he would attach to a belt, and to them he would affix further mounting in the form of straps to be secured around the thigh so that in battle heated they would neither shift nor rattle. Banded spaulders, joined to the breastplate. Light, that under cloak or robe they could be concealed. The symbol of the Spider again marked them amidst Sith markings more traditional. All these creations took shape at once, glowing red in the air around their maker. Then finally he stood, and throwing open the lid to a great vat of water chilled, he quenched them. Manually he began the process of preparing the mounting and straps necessary, then requested one of his machine attendants notify the Dark Lord that the creation was for his inspection prepared.

Haphaestus did not find Exodus' promise of business on Onderon yet suitable to Lemnos. Its population was both too small and too poor, and few would consider his machines affordable though they far outperformed models that on Onderon's market to date existed. A factory here would instead service directly the Sith Empire expanding, a close partnership that his other clients would not long tolerate, putting the business he had these past years built at considerable risk. But he had not come to discuss with Exodus these things. "The technique to forge it is Alcazarin," said the Dark Lord of times past to the one who now the mantle bore. "And its supply limited. Finest armor for you I shall forge, but the art of my craft resides solely with Rivan and his followers now and for ever." He bowed shallowly and held the pose. "I trust your forges are hot? Show me the way, and I will have my materials there delivered that I might set about my work."

"And so you have requested my presence," spoke Haphaestus. Once Nurgle's battlefield general and in days following the Imperial Inquisitor, to war preparation Haphaestus was no stranger. Great dejarik matches with pieces innumerable had once been his chief pursuit, armies once his craft. He had studied long the value of each part in forces mixed, and an officer who did issue commands with full knowledge of the strength of his units was one that victory did readily follow. The quality of an army was built from keystone to highest tower -- would not a flagstone crumble if in a foundation placed? But even the strongest ranks would waver if not inspired by a leader of competence to command them. "Your ranks shall with Lemnos droids continue to be supplemented," said the Sith Master. "But it is your own trappings which most keenly want for darkmetal. What desire you? A weapon immortal? Or armor, perhaps, that will unyielding remain for centuries after the conflict that commissioned it is forgotten?"

Truthfully Haphaestus had not believed any other Alcazarin to have yet persisted. His Master, Dominus, was certainly no longer. Vastor, unlikely. Lavell and Shiri he had not in darkmetal's craft instructed. But there was one other who had before surprised him, and fate may yet have deigned to cross his path with that of the new Sith Empire. "Oni," the artificer spoke. "The demon, though a man he once was." Though at times dangerous and unpredictable, Oni had been steadfast in duties of brotherhood, and Haphaestus bore him no ill will. "Our last meeting has been years past. But he does indeed know the craft inasmuch as it suits a being like himself." Beyond his mask obsidian Haphaestus' eyes did with faint amber light glow. "Has he come before you?"

Haphaestus stood tall before the Dark Lord, no crookedness to his stature nor any perceivable flaw to his presentation; countless nights and days of toil over his forge had not upon his form exacted any detectable cost. He was clad in robes of pitch black, sweeping back from mantled shoulders vast and dark as he moved with purpose. Embroidered on the hems of his garment in silver were glyphs whose meaning to many had been lost to time, ancient Tionese and Sith characters of ages long past but to which he had borne witness. His hood was raised, behind it his face enclosed within a darkmetal mask as ornate as his finest creations, patterned in common with the gauntlets, greaves, and sabatons of the same material that made themselves visible as his great cloak shifted. But most striking perhaps was the black staff he bore as one might carry for support in arduous journeys by foot. He did not rest upon it, however, though he bore it not in vain: it was permeated with the blood of his enemies fallen. "I trust your endeavors have been met with victory," Haphaestus intoned. "But let us speak of why it was I have been summoned. You seek the boon of my sacred craft of darkmetal." That which Rivan had entrusted to him, that no other hand among those living could work.

Upon a crack of thunder the ship that bore the Lord of Artifice arrived above Onderon, a place that had never before borne his presence. This was not the Helios; Darth Angelia had taken that vessel on some other errand. But marked as it was with the symbols of Lemnos Industries and combined with his own announcement of intent, there was no doubt that it was helmed by Haphaestus himself. His ship berthed, he was received by the very Deimos droids that to the Dark Lord he had once gifted. Creations he had assembled himself, with care and thoughtfulness placing every part and rivet. He spoke not a word, but inclined his head toward them and allowed himself to be led unto whatever sanctum Exodus had for their audience chosen.

It was within Lemnos Industries' most lately christened factory upon Taris that Haphaestus now did find himself toiling, for he found it bore his presence with the most grace. Though frequent were his journeys back to Nubia, Kuat, and other worlds where his company flourished, always in those systems he required with great care to hide his affiliation with the Sith Order that did persecute those governments and those with whom they allied. Upon neutral Taris he had not only access to clientele and the resources to ply his trade, but concerns of distant politics did not visit upon his mind, which was upon more worthy topics entirely focused. His forge there was eternally hot; since the first spark had lit a flame therein, never had the embers ceased to glow. And from it emerged creatures of metal, in forms of homunculi or beasts or of men-at-arms, any two of which were seldom alike but each bearing in common some aspect of the image of its maker. These myriad creations roamed the halls of Lemnos, the streets of Taris, and across the expanse galactic as wealthy patronage queued to purchase designs found nowhere else. Little interrupted Haphaestus' work, but when a message arrived that bore the proverbial seal of the Dark Lord, he lay aside his tools to receive it and Lord Exodus' commands. Upon completing the task, he addressed his attendant, no more living than the raw materials out of which it had emerged and yet in function much higher than crude biologicals. "Prepare my ship. Fill its hold with ores, and spare not the reserve of darkmetal." Darkmetal. That which could by no process be synthesized nor by any machine extracted from the caves of Almas where solely it could be found. With great care Haphaestus rationed it for such pursuits worthy of its splendor and utility. Among such pursuits was the task now set before him. When completed were his instructions, the great Sith departed Taris for some destination that in no other he had confided.

"For now I believe our present arrangement will suffice, but it is yet only a foundation for the partnership to come," Haphaestus answered. From his chair he rose, cloak draped over his tall form entirely obscured. When combined with his gauntlets of darkmetal and his silvered mask, it was to none apparent just what he was, knowledge to which even Exodus himself was not privy. "Lemnos shall begin to send droids to Korriban or another world of your choosing," he continued. "If more you desire or wish something particular designed that does not yet exist, simply send word through secure channels. When time and opportunity permit, Angelia and I may journey to see your Empire emergent and your One Sith." For now the Sith Master, consumed as he was by tasks both regarding Lemnos and Angelia's Force visions, did not think the time could yet be spared, but it would not remain so for long. That did not mean that he would not watch and judge the actions of the Order that from outside he could see. Exodus spoke well of his design, but Haphaestus had himself seen the Sith chafe and rebel under any leadership except those that clutched still the views the Dark Lord now labeled dogmatic. "Until then, I am certain your attention is elsewhere required," he concluded.

Though the details of the NYX line Haphaestus would not himself have disclosed, he found Kitaara's offer suitable. There were all manner of prototypes that out of his forge walked, some later perfected and others discarded due not to any flaw in their design but rather due to market demand and other such variables. Some of these were yet put to work within Lemnos itself, but many were not suitable for any common task within a droid factory's many halls, and so the Sith Order might have some use for them. And indeed upon their request he could drive his designs to provide that which nowhere else yet existed, to serve purposes none had yet conceived. "We must of course weigh carefully the benefits long-term of profits and merchandise donated rather than back into Lemnos invested to sustain its growth," Haphaestus added. "But in service to some greater cause was Lemnos Industries built, not for its own perpetuity, and thus only to maximize its usefulness to the Sith shall its assets be apportioned." He stood, inclining his head to the great Hutt Sheog, but his attention fell upon the commotion through the doors beyond. "I must warn that Lemnos will be of no service whatsoever if the Imperial Remnant discovers this meeting," he said darkly. This bade not well for the Dark Lord, that his invited entourage would so recklessly act that all would be put at risk. Their lives would be forfeit well before the company, but their conduct reflected poorly on their commitment to Exodus' design or else his influence over them.

Exodus' designs for the Order were not unlike those that once Haphaestus had conceived. Considering that Exodus too had once learned from Dominus, though to what extent he knew not, this was no great surprise. Of discipline, structure, and brotherhood the Dark Lord spoke. Chiefly different from Haphaestus' leadership however was any mention of political posturing, but indeed Exodus' Sith had not the opportunity for a clean slate that had been by the Galactic Peace Accords afforded to Haphaestus'. He had enemies apparent, and upon them he would wisely focus the Order's rage, lest they grew restless. When Angelia chose at last to reveal herself, Haphaestus maintained his gaze unwavering upon the Dark Lord. Upon her question spoken he added his own. "And what indeed of rogue elements? Have you found our brethren willing to be led in the way you prescribe? How many continue to war among themselves beyond your sight?" Haphaestus was himself faced with a curious choice. Always had he envisioned an Order sculpted into a brotherhood, but even as now he was with one presented, he questioned what place within it he might hold. For though a brotherhood he desired, he wished also to choose his brothers. Toward such men and beings as Quietus and Sheog he felt no kinship, and so apart from them he had sculpted Angelia from a slave into the first of her new kind.

When the Dark Lord denied not the Sith action over the named worlds, Haphaestus deemed that with a measure of honestly he too should proceed. "When from the company of the Order Darth Quietus cast me out, into Dominus' fortress I sequestered myself for some years," he explained. He invoked not the names of Nurgle nor Rivan, lest he reveal concerning their nature something to which Exodus had not before been privy. "In seclusion I dwelt upon the dark side, but lacking industry I found the time ill-spent. When in my ruminations I chanced upon a distant shatterpoint, I took an apprentice to be my partner and founded all of this to which you now bear witness." He did not here implicate Kitaara Shiri directly, knowing she may wish still to maintain some benefit of anonymity, but to Exodus it would require no great leap of intuition to see through the ruse if indeed he had not already. Less than two years had passed since those first steps he had taken, and already Lemnos had into a major player evolved. "When opportunity permitted, we together struck down Grand Master Kirlocca on Carida beneath the very noses of the Empire that has become our hunters," he continued. "I trust my creations delivered the wookiee's weapon to you and so prompted your visit. "Now that all this has by our hard work been founded, we seek a cause that it might in some capacity serve, lest we amass wealth for no greater end than itself," Haphaestus said. His eyes behind his metal mask ornate studied the Dark Lord critically. "Tell me of the Order which you now lead, Exodus, and of its aspirations, that I might judge whether by our support it may better perform some worthy task."

"Lord Exodus," Haphaestus greeted him in return as behind Kitaara the meeting doors closed. It seemed indeed that in the sudden chaos and activity on the landing pad, he had not deemed any of his entourage fit to join them, and this stance did him further credit in Haphaestus' sight. "Greatly in power have you grown since last we met. The mantle of Dark Lord is well found with you." He offered Exodus a seat at the long table, which had been crafted of carved wood to match the touch of antiquity that did the great hall reflect. It bore testimony of an exquisite craftsmanship better than any metal table that had by some factory been produced in mass quantities, and so held true to the values of the growing Lemnos Industries. "I must apologize for the anonymity of our gift," he stated. "But I knew not what our messengers might find. The Sith Order has in the past greatly disappointed me and resisted attempts to unify them. "But you perhaps have in recent days succeeded. The fleets above Carida and Onderon have not escaped our notice," he observed.

Within the meeting hall awash in reds and blacks, Haphaestus remained still and looked upon their guests as they landed and disembarked. The first to arrive was of all creatures a Hutt, a race of which the Sith Master was not fond. Yet he knew this being as Sheog, and that beneath a facade corpulent and a manner uncivilized there existed a keen mind within which resided secrets of Krath sorcery known to none other. This, too, was a Sith Master. Though Haphaestus had before encountered him but once, he had a considerable reputation. But Sheog was not the Dark Lord, and Haphaestus was glad of it, for he would not treat with an Order that by the Hutt was led. It was his perception that though Sheog had gifts uncommon among his species, he had not distinguished himself from them in his gluttony for splendor and excess. Only in the absence of such things could a leader build a lasting reign. Soon the true Dark Lord did reveal himself, and Haphaestus knew it the moment that from his vessel he did depart. It was Lord Exodus. One that had once been attached to Nurgle, and whose trials to Masterhood Haphaestus himself had once overseen. This was favorable news for the Sith Order that one such as he would now the dark mantle bear. Answering Angelia view the intercom, he bade her invite Exodus inside and accommodate those of his entourage which might by his request accompany him.

"Meditate and rehearse, and this technique too will you soon find comes easily," Haphaestus said, and with a hand outstretched retrieved from her possession his lightsaber. "For now it seems we have other preparations to make. Let us not appear to the Dark Lord ill-prepared to receive him. Whoever he may be and whether we align our fates with that of his Order, he is at least a potential client that is of our greatest hospitality worthy." The Sith Master swiftly departed to see to his business. The Lemnos Headquarters would be made even more pristine than they had hitherto been kept. He selected from among their most impressive models the finest droids to line their hallways that they might the Dark Lord's eye capture. Some among these were of designs not yet revealed publicly, prototypes of Haphaestus' ceaseless design cycles as he endlessly created even knowing that many would not reach full scale production. He could evoke from raw metals servants and warriors of any imaginable shape as a painter might give life to a vision conceived by no other mind; this unfettered creativity had become his chief pursuit and he found no other activity as satisfying. The staff was briefed on the importance of the visitor to come and informed that the Dark Lord was upon his arrival to be conducted to the presence of Haphaestus and Angelia themselves within the meeting hall largest and most ornate. They were then to be given utmost privacy for the meeting to follow unless otherwise instructed. Haphaestus, for one, would not disguise himself. He wore the trappings of his station as Sith Master. His layered black robe draped over his mantled shoulders vast and dark. His mask and gauntlets were darkmetal, etched in a fashion similar to the chassis of his droids. He had for many years associated closely with the Sith, and it was likely that the Dark Lord would be one with whom he was already acquainted; few deceptions would thus avail him.

"Focus too greatly on the power rather than your target and it will punish you," Haphaestus explained. "You have studied well the laws of nature that enact their will upon this power. Though this ability is unseen outside of those with our gifts, as electricity it is barely exceptional. "Take note as these properties I demonstrate," he instructed. Again he gathered up the darkness of the room until it circled about him as though it were a storm and he was its eye. Few Sith understood as he did the manipulation of the atoms of the air, the transference of electrons as they were torn suddenly away from their erstwhile hosts. In his mechanical mind, which could look upon the stars in the heavens and know each by name even as between worlds he traveled, such was his understanding, the creation of Sith lightning was in a way a formula. And yet this knowledge by itself would not the power manifest. In duality he existed, and from his biological mind there sprung his hate which had for many years festered; he hated the Jedi for their pious self-righteousness, surely, but so too did he hate the Sith that had under his brief rule balked and rebelled, knowing not the greatness they might have achieved and lacking the constitution to outlast the journey that to victory would lead. These two halves commingled, the admixture of knowledge and the power to put it to use in his dark work, he projected outward his hate and let forth another volley of lightning, but its stream and form he varied. First it arced cleanly as a blazing line, singular and narrow, before grounding itself upon a weapons stand. Then he forged it into short bursts of ball lightning in a similar way as he had when Kirlocca had against his staff persisted too long. His sorcery shifted again, and a tendril of brilliance struck a target mannequin before jumping to a second and splitting unto a third and fourth. Then finally into a great chaotic stream, broad and bright, forking as it pleased as electrons competed to find paths most efficient to the earth, unshackled by the Force. "These phenomena you understand," he spoke again as his display ceased. "But though the knowledge does you credit, many who lack it may yet harness this ability. It is their focus that empowers them, and not focus upon the electricity gathering within their own limbs or digits, but upon their envisioned result and upon the destruction of their enemies."

"Our envoy to Korriban must have been received," Haphaestus stated, "or it would surely have returned with the ship that bore it. If the Sith Order fails to seize the opportunity we have placed before them, they are unworthy of it." The Sith Master did indeed desire to find an Order unified in purpose and cultivating any advantage it might find in the chaotic days that now did approach. But he did not require it. His foremost concern was not a coalition of worlds or warlords that he might join to carve out some of their power for himself whether by merit or guile; the works of his own hands as he formed from the dust his own creations that better reflected his will were of far greater import. "Yes," he told Angelia when she revealed her continued thirst for tools and powers greater than she had before attained. "You are ready. Some techniques are yet reserved for Lords of the Sith; from you they shall no longer be withheld." The Lemnos Industries complex had sprawled out from a single building in the months past, and there existed now many chambers set apart far from any public access and restricted even to Lemnos employees. In the first days of Kitaara's training no private space had been yet available to them and they had sought out places abandoned in which to conduct her Force practice; a problem that their wealth had in this way corrected. Together they proceeded now to one such training room. Darkened walls lined with weapons and other implements of her instruction partitioned padded flooring. The dark side ever lingered here, its residue like static electricity clung to the foundations and charged the air. At times it gathered and dispersed as though governed by some mystic current, but most often it came to rest upon one of the few artifacts Haphaestus had some time ago brought over from Almas. The Sith bade not the darkness vanish, but welcomed it. It was Haphaestus' sole sustenance; he required neither food nor electrical power in its presence. "No doubt you wish to learn Sith lightning," he said. "It is a power harnessed through hate, and you will find that your lightning will be ever more fearsome as your hate you learn to focus." Kitaara could feel him gather the dark side about him as though he'd donned a cloak threaded with it. The Force poured through him until his flesh nettled. In a moment a blast of electricity cut the room in twain, sparking outward as it crackled forth to strike the fortified far wall. He produced his lightsaber, a weapon seldom seen in his hands, and offered it to her. "This will help you learn," he said. "With Sith lightning the crystal is charged. Draw first your power through it until you know its taste and need it no longer."

"I concur," Haphaestus responded. "It would not do were the Dark Lord to seek us out on Nubia and we were not present to receive him. "We cannot yet be certain that there is nothing else of interest here, but we may for now leave NYX-1 and NYX-2 here so that their mission may continue. The vessels we send for the Imperials can return with them if by that time they judge their survey complete," he continued. Even if these attempts proved fruitless, however, Haphaestus had found in the Imperial crew something as potentially valuable; oftentimes indeed it was the things unsought that in course of time made the greatest difference. Though his exile self-imposed within Rivan's fortress on Almas was not yet long past, and its duration had far exceeded that of his more recent endeavors beginning with the discovery of Kitaara Shiri, it now stood out to him as a time most unproductive. The resources that he and Angelia had since cultivated, though perhaps not yet as great as those which he had briefly wielded in the past, not only promised continuous growth under their guidance but also belonged to them solely. In his original position he had been given all that he oversaw by decree of Nurgle; as the Imperial Inquisitor he had borrowed tools wrought by the Empire; as Dark Lord he had first seized the mantle and only thereafter toiled to consolidate his power base. But all that now had been to his will bent or designed had not been by any hand gifted, and of these not least might be Captain Yelgo. So would it be henceforth, and for those he trained, and for those they trained in turn. Now he guided the Helios out of the asteroid field by similar route via which it had entered. Even as he did he saw to the necessary arrangements. From Lemnos he sent for a trio of unmarked ships crewed by droids which would ferry the Imperial crew to the worlds of their choosing before returning. To NYX-1 and NYX-2 he left orders to continue their work, and explicitly he bade them to with the Imperial crew cooperate during any interactions they might have. NYX-2 was not to discharge his weapon unless first provoked by external attack. Their presence then no longer required, the two Sith Lords into hyperspace did depart, distant Nubia awaiting them.

"I beg your pardon?" Yelgo asked. "I am afraid it is the truth that she speaks," Haphaestus intoned. "The line of Emperors is broken. The battle that was here fought ended with both sides nearly destroyed, but make no mistake -- the New Republic won when thereafter was formed the Galactic Alliance. The Empire's power and prestige were then stripped away. Zinthos was little more than a child at the time, and though in recent days she has withdrawn her Remnant from the Alliance, it exists only at their mercy, the sum of its once-vast star fleet no greater than was this vessel alone." Yelgo's distress was apparent. He turned and led the Sith deeper into the ship, the stormtroopers behind. Scarcely a living soul did they encounter, though those they did looked on with great interest and relief at their discovery. "My lord, how can that be? Why has this Galactic Alliance tolerated the Remnant's secession?" the captain asked. "The Remnant bears the markings of reformation from the Empire you knew," the Sith Master explained. "They shun slavery, welcome non-humans, have with the Jedi Order allied themselves, and value their member worlds' self-determination. Perhaps in further effort to mollify the Alliance and thus escape their wrath, they have chosen to hunt the Sith which once had made them great. The names of Yahn, Geki, Phillep, Faust, and Rustic are spoken only with scorn, and indeed I, though once their Inquisitor, am not welcome on Carida where now their seat of power lies." "Truly it is worse than I'd feared," Yelgo finally said, visibly upset. "I almost regret to bring this news to the crew, though I suspect the prospect of leaving the ship and reconnecting with their families will soften the blow." Haphaestus nodded. "How numerous are your crew, captain?" "Only twenty-four have survived," he answered. "Considering the state of the ship, it's a miracle even that many of us did. Since then we haven't even had so much as an escape pod worthy of leaving the ship." "The Helios has not the capacity for all of you," the Sith said, "but that is no major obstacle now that you have been located. We will return your crew to their homes, Captain Yelgo." "Thank you, my lord," the man responded, inclining his head. "I never found time for a family myself, and I was rather hoping I could salvage my military career after all of this. But if what you say about the Remnant is true, there may not be a recognizable Empire that can use me." Haphaestus regarded him for a moment as they walked. "Your devotion is admirable, captain," he said. "We have much more to discuss. There may yet be some service you might perform..."

Opening again the outer hatch, Haphaestus returned aboard the Helios, carefully guiding her through the planetary debris towards the Star Destroyer and upon it fixing her sensors. Though it had lain crippled for several years, there was still a certain dignity to the Imperial capital ship, the pinnacle of modern space warfare and scion of a design that had been for many millennia in continuous refinement. The size of a city, it had in its prime the power to destroy entire civilizations, though perhaps not as efficiently as the Death Star that now in somber vigil looked on. Whatever its history or how it had ended up here, there was to the Helios' sensors no surviving sign of its name, and so for now its service record too would be obscured. There was no recourse but to investigate directly, as the ship did not respond to hailing attempts, though the sensors did indicate that there were aboard perhaps a score of living individuals, all human. Picking up Kitaara along the way, the ship glided soundlessly forward as though not to disturb the slumbering dead. Haphaestus directed it to approach at first the main hangar, but surmising as he did that its decks had been melted into slag, he instead maneuvered to one of many airlocks that lined the Star Destroyer's ventral access corridor, according to schematics he maintained in his own internal databases. He chose one near unto the crumpled bow, in an area that seemed to him at least partially intact, that they might traverse the interior of the ship until they reached the habitable decks. Tethered via a docking tube, Haphaestus took in hand his staff and with Angelia in her vac suit still they boarded, leaving NYX-1 and NYX-2 with orders to continue to survey the surrounding space. Slowly they proceeded through corridors darkened, at times waylaid by shattered bulkheads or deck plates treacherously warped. Few barricades could withstand Haphaestus' focused advance, however, and with the Force he cast aside these obstacles or drifted over them in absence of gravity's deckward pull. At length they did make their way to the final bulkhead beyond which the air would become breathable, the last series of doors paired into a functional airlock. Haphaestus toggled them in turn to maintain their integrity, and at last the final door slid open to reveal the first of the answers they sought -- Beyond were, in armor glistening white, eight Imperial stormtroopers, blaster rifles leveled upon the door, awaiting whoever dared to board them. Beyond them, an officer in navy olive complete with cap, looking as if the war had never ended. "Hold your fire," he quickly ordered his troops. He walked towards Haphaestus and studied him with narrowed eyes. "That staff and mask..." he said quietly. Then suddenly he straightened and saluted. "Inquisitor Haphaestus! My lord, Captain Brask Yelgo, reporting for duty." If by this turn of events Haphaestus was startled, with no sign visible did he make it known. "At ease, Captain. I have not held that title in some years," he stated. He surveyed the troops. "Am I to understand that you have been living here since the battle which claimed your ship, in absence of contact from the outside?" The captain nodded. "Yes, my lord." Haphaestus stepped aside to make way for Kitaara to become herself visible to them. "This is Darth Angelia. I believe we have much to discuss."

The Helios' gleaming Nubian hull mirrored the destruction around them, but the Sith themselves were immune, and with calm demeanor they surveyed their environment. Periodically a shard of doonium or a fist-sized stone would hurtle towards the ship and vaporize itself upon its deflector shields in a show of light, but still they gazed unperturbed into the vast graveyard. Haphaestus knelt upon the starship's hull, clad in his robe just as he had been aboard, deep in the Force, following its currents and eddies. When she spoke, he turned to look upon Kitaara, and for a moment as she moved back to the hatch from whence she would dispatch their scouts, her head passed before the ship's searching floodlamps and so was wreathed in light. Though not given easily to emotion, the dark lord did for a moment acknowledge to himself his pride for his former student. Together a long way had they traveled from the ryll mines of Ryloth where hopelessly she had toiled, that today they might plumb the depths of this ruined world in search of the great secret of her visions and ruminations borne of the dark side which she now well knew. That she was now his greatest and most trustworthy ally, one who had shared in what was among his greatest victories, was proof of the effectiveness of his vision for a unified Sith. NYX-1 and NYX-2 were neither privy to such matters nor worthy of them. "Oh wow... it's all so pretty!" NYX-1 exclaimed. "Oh!" With the flash of her repulsors, she bounced away from the ship and snatched a stone from its wayward path which glittered with some ore deposit that had until the battle been long buried in Ziost's crust. She then tucked it safely into one of her compartments for later study. NYX-2 was far more cautious. His light blaster cannon swiveled rapidly as if targeting each asteroid as he identified them. "Searching for targets." Haphaestus gazed upon them, for now tolerant of their idiosyncrasies. "Listen well to your orders," he bade them. "Follow the Force, not your sensors. NYX-1, we have not the time nor desire to gather everything of note here. We are interested in objects and locations of dark side activity. And NYX-2, you are not to engage any threat you detect without explicit orders. Both of you are to report immediately if through the Force you encounter a nexus of energy." "Yes, Master," in unison the droids responded, and then off into the crumbling debris they departed.

Into the asteroid field that was all that remained of Ziost the Sith Master Haphaestus flew. Upon the Helios he came, and with him were Darth Angelia and his two Force-sensitive scout droids, NYX-1 and NYX-2. Though they differed dramatically in approach, they were unified in purpose and design. Approaching the outskirts of the great asteroid field that had once been a world, Haphaestus turned upon it the ship's instruments even as through the Force he stretched out his own perception. The dark side remained strong here; the rocks were steeped with it. Amidst the endless debris and islands of rock and metals there lingered untold secrets. Partially intact Sith structures and artifacts drifted amidst the ruins of a vast conflict, the husks of capital ships of Imperial and New Republic designs. And there loomed, beyond it all as if standing watch over the millions of twisted bodies and shattered fleets and bidding the galaxy never again return to a conflict as bloody or destructive, the abandoned Death Star. For though so much of this carnage its mighty superlaser had wrought, it slumbered now inoperable, a tool bereft of purpose, an agent of the wicked men of a bygone war. Haphaestus would its vigil evade to plunder what secrets he and his crew might find among the dead. But they were not here as looters of trinkets to turn some meager profit, and here they had been led in search of a location that remained elusive. "Do you sense it near?" he asked Kitaara. "Let us search and see what we might find." There could yet be some semblance life among the bodies. Ever since the earliest days of the Sith, there were some that had bound themselves to objects or locations that they might linger beyond bodily death. Perhaps some specter would meet them and through its tale relate forgotten lore or some clue on where to find it. Haphaestus searched in the Force for any hint as where he might find such a being, but only through time and focused effort could the technique be expected to yield results.

"Our former Masters are our makers," the Deimos-class droid answered. "To Lemnos Industries on Nubia the Dark Lord should inquire if he would like to meet them. But now only to the Sith Order will we answer." The droids nodded when they received their orders. "We will leave at once, provided we are given transport. The ship on which we arrived shall return to Nubia bearing news of our encounter to Lemnos Industries." Even as it spoke, the Xenios started up, making ready to depart. ((I'm not going to RP these droids forever. They're now Sith tactical NPCs ready for faction use. A basic overview of their appearance and capabilities is listed here among other Lemnos models.))