Oblivion

The whimsical manuver of feinting with both swords drawn and delivering a powerful physical attack was commendable, giving crediance to the zabrak's tasteful tenacity and coy style by taking the full weight of the blow, the armor underneath purposely driven away as to feel the full force. Cringing down lower to the ground, his left leg twisted near the ground, the acrobatic-styled kick struck against the flat of his back, once more feeling the full intensity of the blow. Spiraling out to the side, the tip of his heels setting both combatants offbalance as it sweeped across their ankles, the Sith Master casually spread the distance between them by levitating backwards and stepping back onto solid ground a couple meters away. "Splendid... It would seem you both improved your strategies significantly from the first few trifle attempts. The shadows have observed this, as have I." Reaching with one hand to his collar, the silver haired man grasped the hold to his cloak and with one swift motion, tore it off from his body. The dark cloak delicately wafted away, receeding back to the darkness where it was lost from all sight. Now, what stood was a man that looked entirely different then before from the neck down. Pulsating vein-like structures traced the muscular framework of the living armor, bending and contracting, taking any form he so pleased. For now, the organic material made him look larger then life, muscle bound from chin to toe, three times more than any normal humanoid species could achieve in their lifespan. "This... This is what seperates those with knowledge from those without. I shall demonstrate to you what trust beyond yourself can achieve." At the rate it took their eyes to blink once, the gap between them became nonexistant as he moved with supernatural speed, seizing Nox by the throat as he propelled forward and collided his body into the brick layered wall that surronded them. A cloud of dust and debry filled the area upon contact, the Sith Master recoiling in this guise, watching and waiting for what their next move might be...

The flagrant display of animalistic tactics and survival was something he had been prepared for. The test even outlined the very need to strike first to claim victory, and with it, deter the other participant from meeting the objectives. Only, for this case scenario, they seemed far more intent on seeking one another then even trying to land a skilled blow on him. The first thrust of the sword by Nox's blade did not strike air, but indented upon his uniform. Upon contact, the hilt of the weapon recoiled sharply, reverberating the metal and falling back away in the same motion it was delievered. Once again, he even weathered the kick to his mid-section which did not even move him an inch in either direction. The Sith Master merely stood in place, observing the bloodshed, analyzing their physical and mental patterns. Yet, upon the last stride of the blade towards him, aimed in directly the same section it had once tried before, he stepped off to the side, delivering a fierce blow with the broad side of his wrist that whipped across the side of the Zabrak's face. "Which do you trust more, that blade or yourself?" Adding insult to injury, the swift motion of his left leg swatted away at the center fold of the blade, casting it airborne before clutching it within his own grasp. "This is no contest of strength, young one. Don't rely upon it." Carrying the blade much like a dagger, he pulled the hilt high above his head and flung it with ease in Nox's direction, the black covering that had been tied to the bottom trailing as it cut through the still air around them.

"Pointless, you say? ... Well, you must have a vague idea of what I'm capable of. Your eyes, they are the windows to your souls. But, that is not the purpose of power. Power has many forms, you see, and that which you seek is a certain kind of power, through one particular mystery ..." In the manner of keeping his new audience lively, a long period of silence followed the man's speech, trailing off before announcing once again in a very soothing tone. "... The 'all powerful, all encompassing Force.' Am I right?" Showing the first signs of emotion by clinching his teeth into a very sly smirk, readjusting his body against the large throne seat that he rested upon. "Of course I am, it's really too simple. I hope, for your sake, that the path you lead in its step may connect to other realms of speciality. Otherwise, you are no better then any other puppet, large or small, Sith or Jedi, that seeks purely but the Force alone. One that our Dark Lord may control freely." Clasping his hands tightly, he leaned forward, stood, and turned away from them. Lowering his eyes, the man spoke once more. "In order to avoid such fate, you must seek a level of independent thought, beyond that of your foes and comrades alike. As an example, I'd like to present you two back your weapons ..." Descending from the ceiling, both blades spiralled slowly downwards onto the table before both inniates. One wrapped in a brillant red cloth, the other in a darker onyx color, they were polished and embroded with different ancient seals based on their personalities. Nox had obtained the element of fire, the crimson light that outlines the rising sun. To Kirloor, his symbols stood for the cooling mist that has become veiled in shadow. "Now then, let's see what you can do ... The being who first strikes my flesh shall be pronounced my apprentice and shall know a wide variety of skills that can defeat any who oppose. As for the victor, he who wins this contest of sorts must kill the other who has failed." "... Begin."

Leaving ample time for suspense, the man re-emerged from the opposite end of the spectrum, blanketed in darkness yet defined by light. As he stood, he stood adorned in a large cloak with few details beyond a slender chain that stretched across his neck. Beneath the cloak, shown only vaguely around the wrists and ankles, another material was revealed, even twitched on ocassion. The man dared even show his full face, slender and pale as it was, stretches of platinum silver hair running along its sides and down his neck in delicate waves. "As I had imagined . . . Neither of your souls have become impure. Shells of light, yet reflecting to that of the darkness . . . Why that is remains to be unseen. Yet, while your motives are common, the spirit that guides you both is at the very least intriguing." With one hand, he passively moved back a slender strand of hair that fell upon his left brow, casting it aside with the easiest flick of his wrist. "Please . . . Take a seat." In that instant, the barren ruins to which they had been searching around vanished, the dark veil that had clouded their minds uplifted. In its place, a grand room sprung alive, lit by numerous crimson candles and torches alike. Gold flecks moved across the surface of the floor as the natural light bended with the calm wind around them, lighting up the table before them. Many seats turned a central seat where the Sith Master quietly resigned to, hoping that they would follow in his instructions and able to cope from the shock . . .

Clearly unpersuaded by the meager response, a visible hand was thrown outwards, halting any further movement from being enacted. The foreign force which had crept into their bodies once before could be felt yet again, though it now lingered in its presence. As it lingered, a numbing pain befelled upon them, slowly draining at their very psyche. "You understand nothing . . ." The end of his finger curled upwards, revealing a small flame that absorbed the darkness around it, and with such act, began to grow. It presented no heat to releave the stinging cold felt, only growing larger and larger outwards until it formed to the size of his fist. ". . . Lost to the abyss, you shall remain nothing." Moved by the mere whisper of his voice, the flame wafted off from his fingertip, seperating and diverging into two equally large flames that ran through their hearts simultanteously. When the fiery whisps came into contact with their skin and clothing, it left no burn nor mark. It disappeared into the shadow, as if nothing had happened at all. Equally as curious, so did the dark figure . . .

An audible sigh came from the shrouded man, yet no air was exhausted in exchange. He merely continued to lean heavily against the frame of the walls, shifting his back heel to press lightly against the cold surface for leverage. Folding his arms, the shadow turned its head in reply, a slightly more stern voice calling forth. "Power? . . . Many fiery tongues have uttered words similiar to yours, yet all but few have perished in its path . . ." Quite suddenly, the pair felt compelled to release their hold upon their weaponry as a foreign power swiftly entered and withdrew from their bodies. Both crafted blades fell aimlessly across the surface, taking a small bounce or two before being drawn to the surronding darkness where it was quickly enveloped. ". . . What makes you any different from them?" The white outlines around his eyes now appeared while the man withdrew himself from the wall, now pacing step by step as he began to encroach upon their positions . . .

Deep within the estranged abyss, the depths which his mind began to roam, voices carried easily. Foreign, closeby, progressively getting louder. Carried without form or regard to their surrondings, it gave an unsettling disturbance to the man's false slumber. He merely breathed a deep sigh, the cold surrondings which he kept himself in brought a frosty long whisp to trail across his lips, circulating with the shadows and slowly disappearing. No later then having done this, a figure approached the young lad who had been purposely probing the temple in search of the Sith Order (Nox.) The dark man, defined only by the scarce light that shined down from the cracks within the high ceilings, stood only a few steps away, leaning across the very wall he was scavenging to cross. A calm and solemn voice emitted from the space he occupied, distorting across the long walls . . . ". . . What is your purpose here?"

OOC: Not a problem. Completly understandable. Another time, perhaps. IC: No obstacles obstructed his path from his destination. Few, if any, rarely did, so it seemed. In the powers of wisdom, matched with the sophosicated tools of both the supernatural and of science, little contest was achieved to be noticable. Though it be, the life of the Krath was in turn so doomed to such things, as it always had. Forfieting the rights the man held as a Lord, now had he adapted to life in the pursuasive foreground, where the darkest depths had lurked, where the light of noble eyes could not reach. Descending slowly to the surface, forgetting what devices he had used to even enter the vacinity of the temple, the Sith Master disregarded all beings not out of ego, but purely for the sake of time. Personally supervising numerous projects, both privately from the Dark Lord himself and for the Empire, the man was well aware how precious his time had been, where his presence was needed most. To call to this rash flow in the abundant Force had led him to this direct spot, to reside in one of the larger, more secluded chambers, and wait. Falling into a false state of slumber, the silver streaks of his hair fell to one side as the curve of his neck bowed to one side, its long flowing locks becoming matted over the thick organic armor that protruded underneath his ornate onyx garments that clothed the protective pieces. The most basic of his designs, the first of the many that followed, lay flat against the table the Sith Master stood over: a single metallic saber, marked in its own particular style to an older time period, where virtues and comradery of the Sith were far stronger then ever before. A period in history he so loved. Now, within this trance, depictions of events far away trailed within the deep recesses of his mind. They were soothing, away from the usual torment, and gave him some measure of sollace observing them. Yet, however sweet the remembrance was, or how virteuos the future seemed to be, the cold still lingered, its sting keeping him awake as it ever so did. The tips of his fingers ran against the chilled surface of the metal hilt of the fallen sword, admiring its detail even while in such a state of false sleep . . .

It was hapless to ignore the feral eneries that became of the twisted fates. Admist it all, playing the part of the observer, stood abashed the still faced master. His eyes held no power in understanding this conflict, they were too weak to notice the true value that was held between the lines. To overcome an opponent of that sort, at that age, was something less then a miracle, yet was not far from the truth. The dark maester knew this well, the talent within him, waiting for it to be unraveled at last. Entering swiftly from the foreground, form accumulating as the shadows around him receeded, the fully cloaked and battle armored man approached this chimera of beings without caution or reverence, siding beside him with a warm embrace that clutched his opposing shoulder. "The life of a Kel Dor has been entrusted to you, Lord Ason. And not just any, a great and powerful one at that. How curious for you to come into such close contact with a soul, here and now. I believe it is time you moved on from me and begin to explore this new entity within you." Removing his arm, the studs on his leather boots resounded quietly as he once again moved further back away, trailing softly away into the distance. Over the silent patter of his short stride, his voice could be heard. Softly at first. Then, nothing. "This is your story now. It has only just begun." No more words needed to be spoken, no need for further action. There was just one thing that needed to addressed; the same feeling that was contemplated over the weeks of solitude, attuning to the darkest depths of the Force itself for answers, something he had not praticed in a great deal of time. Issuing one last command to Mechis III and descending into his personal ship, the man set course for where it all began: Cardia.

Just as quickly as the lines had been disassembled for Project Damaen, the flooring designs were reset by the aid of heavy machinery and the ambudant labor that was available at hand. They were so used to the changes by now that it went smoother then the last two times, keeping basic parts together after moves, knowing they'd be put right back in place after a month or two was through. Each individual was necessary and each had their own motivations for the work load; whether it be money, fear, or a certain measure of respect for their captors, all of some who lived in far worst conditions then these. Regardless, plans went in order and the facility looked as it once had. Orders were called down to process the storage tanks of mechanical droid units that were first produced for the Helix Station invasion. The units were rolled into place and repackaged on the ships in proper ordering. There, the large Imperial transport vessels, as well having remained from the previous invasion, had been put on standby to launch; destination unknown...

Rising his head up from the table of studies, face well-pressed against dry ink articles of parcels beneath, a hand moved across to smooth the imprinted side of his face. Laboring over two projects within a short period of time always offered a challenge, but often seemed to wittle the wick from either end just as fast. Insomnia was all too common in these final stages, where the worry of completion and execution were at hand. It took a great amount of pride to pul himself away and stand back, to think more deeply about other more personal matters whenever the small spot of time arrived. As usual, he could feel her, smell her, but never seemed to be around enough to interact with his so-called "love." The permeated seeds which lingered from a well-fragranced past settled on bitter soil now, left to muster under the toils of seperation from moisture and sun alike. Just as usual, he ignored said feelings for the while, left to finish his own duties before settling into that mindset ever again. This seemed different then most duties, though. While his will was not enforced constantly by an outside force, his own mind proved the best agent of discipline. Several packages arrived during his tireless or tireful acts of studies, all marked and arranged in the manner which the order was transcribed. Packages in hand, the man prepared the last of his tools one last time for the day before settling back into a deep, yet disturbing slumber. A heart bred from one, a soul torn from the other, the bodies rest between.

As of all recent projects seemed, this one was the most rushed at all. Yet, let it be known that its preparations rivaled that of any previous project begun. Schematics for the varying parts and length were unheard of, as well the alchemical process breeded with machine. Upon completion, the towering sculpture of metal was veiled from any other eyes, sealed in an containment hold and set en route to a fairly familiar planet, escorted by a small squadron of TIE Interceptors for added security purposes. Gleeming with pride, the holofeed resounding from the other side of the communication was of a childish fit of laughter, soon muffled by his own fingers. Giddish outbursts were not common place for a man in his position, immediately questioning himself on why it occured. Thankfully, the sound had cut off just previous, leaving the staff on Mechis III unaware of the embarrassing slip. The man in the grey cloak faded away just as he arrived, remaining in high spirits about what had just occured within the facility...

Frequencies were dispatched by the Second Chance towards the ground headquarters at the base site of the former city. Imperial personnel were not hidden at the least bit by the heavy number of reinstated residents had been deployed over the many months since Kamino had been reinstated under their command. The only reports that were made public since that reclaimation was the rash and incomplete plan by the Jedi to seize it once again, all of which was then purposely sent under Imperial consent to smear the worstening reputation of a dying breed. It was rather peculair that there were still ambassadors venturing to the wayward planet, whose regions dwelled outside most civilized colonies. A radio intercepter was first to hear the broadcast before feeding out to extensive channels, relaying all the way from the research networks to satellites nearby, before making a very blunt proclaimation back to the Second Chance. "Representatives of the Survivor's Foundation, I believe there must be a misunderstanding on your behalf. The native government officals are no longer in service, as they have given expressed consent to the Imperial residents to willfully provide defenses and welfare to their people after a disasterous plague had spread through their populace." "Any council you seek will have to be made elsewhere, I'm afraid, for we are also not permitting any unmarked vessels land at this point in time. This is all within accordance of this nation's new government. Good day." Cutting the feed with the flip of a switch, the radio intercepter casually switched back the automatic sweeping procedures on the same communications device, tilting his chair slightly as the usual noises and figures lit the small screen over and over. He had been so accostumed to seeing them that the man shrugged, not minding the screen after the first minute, and then dozed to sleep.

Orders reigning down from the cybernetic division upon Mechis III had turned the rather laxed workings of the facility as of late back to its normal bustling activity. What with the quantity of ideas and discussions from their leader and advisor, everything seems to move faster then ever. The detailed machinery in the massive assembly lines had been stripped and redone, as every new project does to one scale or another. Though, this time, larger buildings were made in its steed. The foundations were pulled out, merging with other buildings closeby to create massive pillars of construct that dwarfed ones of old. More labor was required upon this porject then of the last as well. The far reaching hand of the Empire was well adjusted to outfit labourers of all kinds upon Mechis III, droids and humanoids alike, to begin Project Damaen.

Backing away from her, letting his apprentice be, Oblivion brought the communication link up to eyes, listening the feed coming from the other line. Lord Dagon was never much for words, though was very descriptive. He went to work on the plans, devising sketches and making a few calls to the cybernetic team upon Mechis III for further information and discussion.

Such words were not spoken before, not actualized or put into proper context until now. This only furthur validated the idea, inside his own mind, that his manner of perception while interwinded with duty and pratice dulled his senses, atleast gave the illusion that both could not be held at the same balance as they had before. This was also not just a matter of weakness on his behalf, but the means of advancement, broadening not only himself but those who he surronded himself with, came certain sacrifices. Sacrifices that could; no, would be made. Braced against the same desk he had so dominantly stood, his neck lowered between the length of straight arms, locks of hair dangling past his face to show only the left portion of his face. The same portion which glared grimacingly, fueled by an entirely different emotion then expressed before. ”œYou were never a slave girl. As soon as you set foot inside this building, there was something more about you”¦ There always has been. You've grown so much since then, in light of my absence. How your roots were cut, only be reborn better, stronger, yet they do not embrace the same nuture as mine; even when soiled beneath its very heart.”

The sharp edge of the pen fell silent at the direct moment the folded paper fell upon the desk. Slipping away from his grip, it laid down horizontally as the man immediately thrusted himself upright off the seat, propelled by his two arms bracing against the flat edges. Without even taking a second glance towards the piece of parcel, Oblivion grasped it tight within his fist, the pieces cascading down between his taught fingers. ”œEnough”¦ You know exactly what I want. Don't play coy. It's most unflattering”¦ And you should atleast have the courage to speak around me. Or am I that uncomfortable to be around?”

The haunting spectre that was his old comrade's presence, though it lacked physical form, was felt as his sweeping aura first entered. Intrigued by the pathway that reeked of a foreign and disturbing nature, even though it was not his first encoutner with the like, the scientist would have undoubtedly have wanted to witness the true extent of the conjurered plane. Rather, she seemed to leave in quite a rush, as did his friend, offering up into the air one last time before his aura had once again faded from him. ”œI would be surprised if it did, as well”¦ Just be sure to close the door when you're done running after her. We can talk later,”

”œExodus, you do say?”¦”

Hardly altering his posture, keeping reposed against the fine comforts the leather bound chair had against his back, he absorbed what few words were uttered as he, in turn, absorbed even more of her feelings and energies. Confession was hard to muster, as anyone who who atleast been vaguely informed of Oblivion's within the Sith Order, and was put into the highest of considerations before continuing to listen. Lowering his eyes, both hands began to fold infront of his chest as either elbow remained slanted against the arm rest of the large chair”¦ ”œ”¦Ahh. How too familiar the case,”

At the slightest flick of his finger from across the large and spacious chambers, the door that had hinged her entry now became unhinged. The double panneled doors, carved from the fine oak on Kashyyyk, spread wide, giving more then enough room. A sound echoed from the large dome ceilings, the voice of the man who had responded to her earlier rolling from side to side as the continous sound became a small chatter after it had repeated. ”œPlease, do come in”¦ I'm in the back. Make yourself at home.”

The period of time that allowed himself to draw away from the emotional and physical high inticed by both the drink and the foreword comments was, for all intense purposes, a very good deal. As the flames soothed against the rock that was his temple, it gave a source of control to let his smoke settle back and withdraw, dampening the flames naturally and gradually. It was in this moment he had receeded, allowed the matter in which the tides of darkness ebbed and flowed all around to become absorb, endulged, and trickle from point of his entire body to where it became his own, touched and felt by every part of his being. Tensing and relaxing, the channels revealed the distant call which revealed the image of the Sith Lord, a fairly slim woman who reacted positively towards his energy and, like so few, come to understand the extent of it to the point of recognition. Breathing slowly from his nostrils, a smile appeared on his face, able to concentrate further on reaching out to her mind in this matter, folding the dampened edges of his digits around her head, allowing the heat to be felt from miles apart. ”œ”¦What is this I feel? Distrust, or lack of focus. Powerful currents, a tyrant of emotions. My company is yours beneath the seas which rage underneath your feet, if a conversation it is you seek.”

The muffled laughter could be traced from the moment the shuttle blew off from the inner sanctum of Coruscant's Upper Crest across the half-dozen hyperjumps necessary to make a safe and secret enterance into Kamino's atmosphere. Covered from head to toe with but the slim stretch of exposed skin underneath the fairly loosened hood that leveled above his brow, the Sith Master eased back upon the controls, making a wide descent onto one of the many landing platforms that laced the surface. Admist the constant bombardment of hailing showers, he withdrew from the shuttle and proceeded to walk the platform down to the ground level, making ease across the slick surface over towards where a series of overhangs covered the walkway between military facilities. An Imperial officer, addressed to him before who had remained loyal, Sgt. Peterson, approached him on the deck to the turbo lift leading to the underwater structures which the man so commonly frequented. Standing back a moment, releaved at once that he was in an environment where neither artifical sprinklers or natural ones were soaking his cloaked uniform, he recognized the officer with a quick nod before speaking. ”œYou've come at quite the time, Sergant. Please, hold the updates for once we're inside the laboratories. They generally tend to upset me, good or bad, so push that aside for now. I need to make a quick transmission off-planet before we descend”¦”

After the long pause made by the Dark Lord, obviously inmidst of deep contemplation over some extreme detail which did not require his attention, the man graciously bowed out of his presence with one last trailing message. "Well now, I'll be sure to run the idea by Lord Dagon before persuing the notion any further. Rest assured though," His voice went low, reduced to a faint whisper as it glided across the wind of his lips, "This... will bring those invested within of our faith to show their true character in devotion. Extreme, of course,... but shall reap many rewards. I have forseen this change for many months now; this title will allow me to work further with it." "Good day to you." Dispersing within the very shadow he kept himself anchored upon, the cloaked figure reappeared away from the Dark Lord's vision, passing by the many halls of the construct, past the virtual reality barriers. He was aware of all of these contraptions built recently through the simulated trial, yet was never quite sure what they were capable of now. Clever, 'reminds me of an old project of mine. Perhaps more research is to be invested in such a venture. And with that small though did he return to his vehicle, heading through the gateway which led him to enter and exited in the same, familiar and brash fasion he had landed just as well.

Beginning his ascent up from the ground, the actions that had been brought upon him were finally given greater cause and clarification through the Dark Lord's words. Though the man had rightfully known what the challenge was from the beginning, it was sincerely gratifying to know that his intuition served him so well, even before the events unfolded. Conjuring upon the dark powers that be, Oblivion collected the source of his shattered armor, the powerful liquid collecting underneath his ankles as it formed once more to his body underneath the cloak. Soon after, he seized the weapons from the Dark Lord with the same careful manner he had offered it to him, relinquishing the dagger in the seathe behind his back, the sword tied along the loose cord around his waist more tightly then without. Those cool grey pools of eyes examined Revan, unwantedly easedropping upon the quick conversation without so much as the oppertunity to introduce himself to the newly appointed Lord. Regardless, Oblivion approached the Dark Lord once more, pulling the same dark hood over his scalp and speaking fairly quietly then his remarks before. "So, your numbers grow, my Lord. While what ties they have to you and this order may be strong for now, are you certain that all are truly well versed upon this path? I'm sure some measure of doubt still clouds the minds, especially those with the most and least experience alike." Folding both arms behind his back, Oblivion took two steps forward, yet still honorably presented himself always behind and off to the side of his liege, never infront or directly at his side. "Doubt and traitors have been the downfall of this organization for millenia, now. With this recent promotion and greater responsiblity, I feel it is my duty to inform you of this and my personal insight on the matter in order to ensure the future of our line."