Jump to content

Aaris III


Tarrian Skywalker

Recommended Posts

For 3 days Akheron's spirit, his very soul lingered deep within the darkest pits of the Chaos realm. Within the dimension beyond death where all who served the Darkness were sent. Where the damned souls feasted upon everything. Here he was forced to torment as his soul was ravaged by the souls of all he had dispatched over a long lifetime of bloodshed spilt by his hand.

 

And then the Fanged God feasted, tormenting him further for his failings and for not supplying the souls that were promised from Falleen. For allowing the Light and the Enemy via the Jedi to deal a blow to his designs and the Sith. However, Akheron fought back against the pain and endless suffering, for 3 days he gathered strength as many times before he broke free of his capture. Hoisting himself from the chains that held him and destroying the souls that sought to again ravage him.

 

Only this time it was they that suffered. His Rage and Wrath grew until his strength was back and he was allowed to wander the realm of the dead as he saw fit. Fighting off any damned soul that attempted to destroy him, showing the Fanged God he was far from as weak as some thought. Even despite his failure against the Jedi Sandy Sarna.

 

One he had underestimated, another lesson learnt.

 

It was while wandering, fighting off several damned souls that he heard a familiar voice. Bernon Mrrgwharr, Apprentice to Krath Inmortos. Like those with him, he too insulted and chided the fallen Sith Warrior and Master. Claiming that he was his better and surpassed Akheron. He would show him his folly. That he was far from the weakened, fallen Sith Warrior he thought he was.

 

Bernon Mrrgwharr would learn what it was to suffer. To show him that even despite his failings, he was still potent. That even in Death his will was strong, he would know the true depths of his Rage and Wrath. After dispatching the damned he made his way, crossing the hellscape until he spotted the deviant apprentice. Walking he saw Bernon Mrrgwharr and approached cautiously.

 

Standing opposite he spoke briefly before charging towards his prey. A Hunter hunting a hunter. He would show him Falleen was a temporary setback, that is far from his only play. That even death would not bar him from sending souls to the Fanged God and him from touching the Darkness. Even if it included him.

 

 "Who are you Bernon Mrrgwharr, Apprentice to Krath Inmortos to question me? You are but a speck beneath my fingernails here young one. For even here in suffering, pain and torment I have endured and will continue to endure. For not even this realm of Chaos and the damned will my will be denied, even here I continue to grow. My Rage and Wrath everlasting. And any who would deny me and my worthiness will be destroyed. Fallen was but a temporary setback, you think it was my only design? You know little Bernon Mrrgwharr.

 

In the grand game, Falleen was nothing. Just another pawn. Just like you are to your master. As we all are to the Darkness and the Fanged God. Even in failure I learn as a Sith Warrior must. For only then do we become the stronger, a lesson it appears you have not yet learnt. You will learn what it is to lose, to suffer. Here in oblivion you will be given a lesson, and learn the true depths of my Rage and Wrath. To learn what it is to be a Sith Warrior. A Master of Darkness and a destroyer of worlds."

 

With that the chase was on. Akheron focused, his Wrath and Rage sending him hurtling towards his target. He would show him he was not to be trifled with. That he was worthy, a destroyer of worlds who was not yet done with the galaxy. Or the Jedi. He would show all even in failure he grew the more potent and stronger. As always he had.

 

 

  • Like 1

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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."

  • Like 2

Dictum.jpg.0f5717fd74fdc4ee9bfc91ffc3fa3457.jpgDarth Dictum

 

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" - Edgar Allen Poe

Link to comment
Share on other sites

As Akheron gave chase towards the younger Sith Warrior, intent on tearing his soul apart he heard another familiar voice. This time one that seemed to calm his mind and call to his reasoning. Albeit not at first, he glared towards Dictum, his Rage and Wrath wanting to destroy him for thinking he could command him. And then he closed his eyes, and focused. Within that moment his mind settled and found clarity, clear of the fog of twisted reality in the Chaos dimension that was leading him astray. Of pitch black Darkness that threatened to consume any and all it touched, drawing the damned into it's centre.

 

Opening his spectral eyes, black as midnight in their undead, appearance and with Akheron in his temporary, wraith like form, having stopped, he spoke this time calmly. His mind restored.

 

 "I am done. Forgive me young Bernon Mrrgwharr and Lord Dictum. This place has a strange effect on the mind after 3 days...especially after suffering in torment, suffering and pain at the hands of the damned, condemned for my sin of Vengeance. As you said letting my Rage and Wrath get the better of me. No more. You are right in that Falleen is of no consequence, it is as I said. The planet and the people were but a single pawn in my designs upon this galaxy in service of the Sith and by extension the Darkness and Fanged God. One who equally punished me here for my transgressions. It was meant only as a recruitment station. To gain us an edge in more potent Linnorms and Sith, but it is a plan that no longer matters at least for now.

 

 It is indeed a lesson learnt. Perhaps more than one. For I also underestimated my opponent, how much she has grown. I respect her more now for having such strength, but despise her equally for refusing to abandon the Light. Falleen will not be the last she sees of me of that you can be certain. She will not win that war between us. Light and Dark. But that is a future endeavour, one which will require a different approach. For she is cunning. But so am I. 

 

Let us leave this forsaken place for one where I may show the galaxy what it is to truly suffer. For just as I pay for my transgressions, so shall they. I am indebted to you both in retrieving me and Krath Inmortos. I will thank him personally when we escape this place. Consider this a favour owed, one I will keep if asked in the future. Let us return as Chaos, the Darkness and the Fanged God desires of us, as you said".

 

With that he took the offered hand, to whatever happened next. He knew though it was likely going to hurt alot, but he was accustomed to the pain.

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas
  • Like 2

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

“Alert! Attention all Sith Forces!” 

 

Solus looked up from his work area. The back of the ship had become a bare bones mess as Solus had removed every panel, pulled out every unessential wire, removed every spare part he could and left them all over the ship. With the gravity controls turned off, (and the separate generator completely dismantled) each part floated in the air for the Shard to pluck out of the empty space near him.  Covering numerous holes were the fleshy pieces of Madness, dripping blood and ichor.

 

All around him, the gibbering mouths growled and gnashed at the disturbance. Solus sighed, his inner feelings leaking into the Madness once more. He let go of the parts between his hands and pushed himself towards the cockpit, catching himself on the seat’s backrest. 

 

“What’s so important to interrupt the ritual? one of the mouths blabbered, with the other mouths slowly repeating the question in numerous dissonant tones. Several of the mouths detached from the walls and floated after the Shard, with small wings of veins and fat.  Solus waved them away as the message continued. 

 

“Korriban is falling! Repeat, Korriban is falling! Imperial Forces have overtaken all sectors and are currently breaching the Praexeum! Repeat! Korriban is lost to the Imperial Forces! Do not approach!”

 

The message repeated several times, but Solus didn’t hear. Instead, the mouths all over the ship hissed and chuckled at the news.

 

“One world falls…'' one mouth blubberred, its teeth rotting and cracked. 

 

“Like Master, like home…” another hissed before being swallowed back into the flesh of the ship. 

 

Solus nodded at the sounds of Madness that only he could see. His connection with the Madness was growing. His own feelings and thoughts were leaking into the Madness, and they were manifesting themselves. With the death of Akheron, it seemed Solus had lost one of the anchors that kept him away from That In the Rift.

 

“The Final Death is coming? End of the Enemy…?” One mouth asked, to which the others snickered. 

 

The slow death. The Unending Void. The Howling End…”

 

Solus muted the communications and returned back to his work area. Floating in what used to be a small centerpoint hallway, Solus snapped his fingers. The mental click immediately made all the mouths shut themselves and become absorbed into the flesh, eyes replacing the orifices. 

 

“I need focus please, you stupid wastes of mental space. Focus on this…”

 

Solus moved his hands over the hilt in front of him. With his previous hilt destroyed on Falleen to aid his escape, Solus needed a new weapon. He would not return before the necromancer without a weapon in hand. 

 

The screws tightened. The locks clicked. The battery started. The red blade hissed out. Solus grabbed the hilt and held it up before him. All around him the eyes’ pupils dilated or retracted before the bloody light. A moan emitted from somewhere as the fleshy tumors sprouted from the walls and oozed their way to the Shard. The Ritual of the Open Eye was complete, and now the Madness seeped back into the Shard’s subconsciousness.

 

Later, the ship broke hyperspace over Aaris III. Solus returned to the controls and started his descent. Soon he would be back on Aaris III. What he would do next, Solus was unsure. He just knew his master promised the two would return here, and Solus had no intention of breaking that promise. Plus, maybe he could get an opportunity to win one over the necromancer. Heck, maybe Innmortos’ new apprentice would see the error of his choice in master and request someone more sensible.

 

After that, Solus wasn’t sure. 

  • Like 2

solus.png.1650ac06c988997ee4153ec4d899dbe1.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

As the Shard’s demented craft broke real space high above Aaris III, it was met by nothing but an otherworldly stilliness. It was a stillness that seemed to carry an ethereal chill on an unseen wind that touched the soul. Below, the storm-ravaged barren world of dust and ash lay dormant and lifeless. Scans of such a planet told the same tale; there was naught but one lifeform, a single blip that sporadically seemed to appear and vanish across the surface of the world.

 

For those that knew, the densely packed and slowly sprawling citadel of rising icicled towers and barracks stood; a deathly still tribute to a world that no longer was. The Aaris Academy for Gifted Beings; but, it too stood desolate and silent, sapped in subtle auras of darkness and death, of ice and shadow.

 

Deep below the surface, within the frozen mantle of the world, a doorless, windowless funeral crypt stood undetectable from above or below. All that stood out in the room aside from the trio of darkness and death shrouded Sith was a single stone sarcophagus brimmed with boiling steaming blood; blood called forth from beyond the grave; blood bound across eternity by profane oaths and curses that aged beyond the dawn of the Sith to the origins of darkness in the mortal realm.

 

The ravaged chanting of Inmortos was all that broke the stillness as he plunged his apprentice and fellow Sith’s spirits and consciousnesses past the veil into a realm of eternal destruction, despair, and damnation. From above, the necromancer watched through his third eye as his apprentice goaded the spirit of the fallen Akheron from it’s tormented hiding amongst the legions of the tormented dead, taunting it even now with his weakness until he broke free intent on the savage vengeance Inmortos knew the Sith warrior to be capable of. And chase he did driving Bernon before him intent on the slaughter until he was caught up in the darkness imbued honeyed words of hell that flowed from the lips of the assassin. Only then did the profane magics of necromancy stir, clasping the crushed and decimated body of Akheron, destroyed beneath the very world he had sought to rule. With a greet cry, Inmortos’ wrenched his body backwards, a demon-tormented fisherman drawing an invisible line as he wrestled to land a prized catch, condemning it to an unnatural existence within his domain of choking fumes and blinding pain.

 

Tumbling to the floor, Inmortos released the hands of his comrades, thrashing and convulsing as the bridge between eternity and momentary, eternal and mortal was connected. In that moment, a great thunder rolled across the entirety of Aaris III, visible even from orbit. The gap betwixt life and death bridged and the tormented soul and form of Akheron were drawn back into the world of the living; an unnatural crossing against the flood of souls trafficked from life to death upon the River Styx.

 

The blood within the coffin boiled, spilling over to soak the ground around it abd sloshing violently to coat @Bernon Mrrgwharr and @Lord Ōk Rägnär in scalding crimson life and death. The curse-bound blood sought to draw the life from them both and draw their souls into the eternal void. And as this happened the crumpled form of @Karys Narat iv-Adas materializing within the blood, the cursed bodily fluids filling his lungs and orifices with burning unnaturally stolen life; the lives of thousands stolen within the Baptism of Blood.

 

And even as Inmortos grew still and silent, the powers of darkness having taken their toll, the bridge broke. Snapping into infinite shards of darkness that radiated from the world in pulses of unnatural green evil before vanishing, the bond between mortal and eternal was destroyed, swarms of angry spirits filling the room as they sought to exact revenge on those who had so callously violated the natural order; tearing flesh and rendering bodies they sought to simultaneously possess and consume all within the room, any exposure not covered in the blood of the ritual or the aura of the god-king of death himself.

 

An unnatural scream filled the room, but it came not from the necromancer or from the hissing spirits. No; it came from the tormented and crushed form within the sarcophagus, from Akheron himself as he expelled the blood from his lungs and all the pains of death that had been laid upon him on Falleen were brought fresh upon his devastated body. He had life, stolen as it was; but the torments and healing of the wounds inflicted by the Jedi would remain alongside the mental agonies of having tasted of death and being wrestled from it, a testament to his damnation in both this world and the next.

  • Like 3

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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?

  • Like 2

Dictum.jpg.0f5717fd74fdc4ee9bfc91ffc3fa3457.jpgDarth Dictum

 

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" - Edgar Allen Poe

Link to comment
Share on other sites

                          Bernon Mrrgwharr was quickly torn from the world of Astral death. Whenever he came out with Darth Dictum, Darth Akheron, and Krath Inmortos, the boiling blood around him burned his form, but it was just another pain, one that would make him tougher. It did add to his scars, those scars would heal, unlike his finger, however. He soon came to his senses and bowed before his Master. He did not speak, they were completed with the ritual, and he was ready for his next orders. He was excited for his next bit of training, and the power that was certain to come with it. He smiled as the four Sith stood together, an unstoppable, immortal, quartet of Sith. He then stood and bowed before his other Master, Darth Akheron. When he rose he began to think to himself, as he often did.

 

                         Apprentice Bern was just that, an Apprentice, standing amongst a Sith Lord and Sith Masters, he felt as if he stood out here. Like he almost didn't belong here, however, that didn't matter. It was just doubt in his mind, and doubt was an emotion often meant to be ignored. He was a Sith Apprentice, true, but one day he would rank among these powerful Lords and Masters. He was doing pretty well for a Sith Apprentice of the Warrior Archetype and a follower of the Wisdom of the Blade. He had a Limnal Blade, a great weapon indeed. From the Dark Book he learned, he also received much training. This was certainly a great start for him and his type of Sith. He was quite proud of himself, however, he made sure not to let his pride overcome him. He was still young, he was no Master.

 

                         He assumed that Solus the Sith Assassin and Apprentice would be here soon as well, given his Master's return. This should be interesting. Two Sith Warriors, two Sith Assassins, and a Sith Sorcerer. Funny, this was the Sorcerer's world, and he was outnumbered by every other class of Sith here. He often wondered what this world once was, what it was like. However, it likely was a weak civilization that had been overcome and defeated by the strength of the Dark Side. Whoever once lived here likely fought against the Sith, and paid in much blood. This world was a testament to the power of the Dark Side and the futility of the attempt to resist such power. No Jedi or Imperial Knight, or so he believed, could dare to take on such power and ever truly succeed in their efforts.

 

                         As far as he knew, the Galactic Alliance and Imperial Remnant had joined forces and become the Sovereign Alliance. The Sovereign Alliance had its military, law code, and Emperor. It most likely controlled the majority of the Galaxy by now. If the Sith had lost the worlds of Falleen and Korriban to them, it certainly wouldn't be good for the morale or the Sith themselves. Bernon only could hope that the Sith could recover from these losses. But leading the Sith was not his job, and he wasn't even ready to partake in their war yet, at least he didn't think he would be allowed to. No, such was not his business yet. He should stay focused on succeeding in his training before partaking in such matters. He looked around at all of the Sith gathered here, and patiently awaited his next orders.

  • Like 2

 

 

Bernon.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

At first Akheron saw nothing but the hellscape  he had been condemned to suffer by Sandy Sarna, his eternal adversary. Gripping hold of the strong hold Dictum held upon his forearm and locking equally in return, as equals would. He felt the strong pull, like a great hurricane wind attempt to pull him, slowly at first until it built into a crescendo and tore his spiritual, wraith like form towards the six great demonic gates that guarded the suffering and sin-laden eternally damned souls. Holding them all within like a great prison or vault.

 

The demonic entities and ancient Gods guarding it jealously. And yet Akheron was freed from within it's confines, in a way that angered the many souls within. As he was torn, so too did several souls follow with gnashing, gluttonous teeth. Looking to punish the ones who dared defile and break the walls of the damned and free a prisoner without permission.

 

As his physical body started to manifest below the boiling blood filled sarcophagus, his soul soon followed. His Rage and Wrath filled spirit joined with it, his mind momentarily consumed by hallucinations as both Chaos and the Real World collided. Moments later and the fog and haze lifted, his eyes opening as life leapt back into his damaged body. His form now complete, sending acidic blood spewing in all directions as his body emptied the crimson tied from his internal organs.

 

As his spirit entered it's host body, he let out a mighty scream unnatural and gluttural, like a beast was speaking from within. He felt all the pain, indeed he began to savour it as he found life again and felt the bitter cold upon his skin when he attempted to lift himself, only to fall out of the sarcophagus instead. His legs still partially suffering the affects of death upon them. Moments later and after a few breaths, taking in the Darkness once more in the open air his body felt ready to try again. In service to the Sith and the Fanged God, he rose his legs now able to hold their own. At least until he got to a bacta tank. He noted however that the metal that been jutting out was gone, even if the pain remained.

 

It was a unusual experience but one he accepted for now. A price for his return. 

 

He noted though that somehow, his prosthetics had also made the transition. Likely a result of the Baptism of Blood he fathomed. A ritual he now saw another value of, for it had assisted his return. Enabled it using the three Sith as a conduit. He also felt a deeper connection to Dictum specifically, as if bound by more than blood. It was akin to a kinship. He would not forget that act. Indeed as a Warrior he had a method to offer equal kinship. Given only to the most respected, he would discuss that a later date with the man and Inmortos. 

 

Looking up, he knew it was not over yet. He could hear the wailing and feel the anger of the enraged undead spirits. Coming to collect what was taken. But he would not go back, not now and not yet. Not so soon after his return and not when his work was not yet finished. With that he let himself focus in the Darkness as he spoke, hoping someone at least had a spare robe for now. And a temporary weapon until he could acquire or remake what was lost to Falleen.

 

Despite the chaos below with him, Akheron could also distantly feel his apprentice presence. He wondered what he would make of his return from the grave. Through a method not natural and yet in ways unknown were connected still to the Fanged God. At least he thought so. For such a ritual was well within the domain of a Father of Dust.

 

He would soon see what would happen next. For he also knew another task remained for the young apprentice. The Shard would need to face his greatest challenge yet before he would be worthy of his due.

 

 "I thank you Krath Inmortos. You truly are a Father of Dust, a God-King of the Damned. I am indebted to you, your apprentice and Lord Dictum. If ever you have need of me, I will find a way to assist you. But for the time being, would anyone happen to have a spare robe? I came out of Chaos a little under dressed for the occasion. And without a weapon to combat those spirits who want me back."

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas
  • Like 1
  • Haha 1

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

During the descent, Solus felt it. The scent of Korriban in the Impossible Geometries. It was faint, and tainted, but unmistakably there.

 

At first, the shard thought the Madness was tricking him. Perhaps the beast that solus help made was trying to trick the living. But the madness didn't work like that. It carried its own flavour in the Force. It's signature and shadings were vastly different and Solus knew it well enough to recognise it at first glance 

 

This was not the Madness. 

 

Akheron had returned. 

 

Solus gripped the controls tightly and descended faster. 

 

"You dare commit such heresy? " Solus shouted as the ship rumbled amongst the planet's atmosphere. "Return from the Fanged God himself? To deny what is his?!?"

 

The Madness growled at the edges of Solus mind. Fueled by his emotions, it festered and grew, eager to supplement his powers. 

 

Despite his growing rage, Solus was able to land the ship gently among the ash and ice of the world. Solus exited the ship and gazed at the world around him as his makeshift cape billowed with the wind. The world felt different but the same. Cold but burnt. It was like nothing happened, but something most definitely did.

 

"Chase after the Heretic?" The Madness wondered. "Or chase the heresy?"

 

"Neither. Such hunting is impossible without further information. Instead, we will let them decide." Solus commented. He glanced around the enviroment. "this place is perfect as a killing zone. I will not be tricked like that tree did on Nar Shaddaa. This time, my victim will come to me"

 

So instead of going out, solus stood and waited. Lightsaber in hand, Solus waited, reciting stories of the dragon Betelguise and the stars he ate. If his master truly came back, he would sense his apprentice and find him. If not, Immortas’ would notice the shards presence and send someone. 

 

And Solus would teach them that Death remembered all. 

  • Like 2

solus.png.1650ac06c988997ee4153ec4d899dbe1.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

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.

  • Like 2

Dictum.jpg.0f5717fd74fdc4ee9bfc91ffc3fa3457.jpgDarth Dictum

 

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" - Edgar Allen Poe

Link to comment
Share on other sites

As Akheron waited he found his request swiftly answered before he was forced to use his fists, thankfully a scenario averted. For that would do little against such enraged wraiths, intent on returning him to the realm of Chaos and  the Fanged God's grasp, even though it was through him and his conduit Krath Inmortos that he had been returned. Not that the undead spirits cared...they sought to return that who they thought a escaped prisoner. 

 

But Akheron would not be returned so easy, not when he was not yet done with the galaxy. 

 

He felt his apprentice, and used his presence as a guide to lead them out of the depths where they stood. Although not before he unleashed his fresh Rage and Wrath upon the wraiths, with the loaned lightsaber  which he appreciated. It would be returned after, for he was accustomed to making his own. His own extension to the Darkness. As the first wraith came with wicked intent, Akheron slashed diagonal, knocking it's clawed hands back before slicing at the head, sending him back to the realm of the dead.

 

He continued, his connection to the Darkness strengthening and returning with each swing as his body and mind recalled all he learnt in life. His Wrath and Rage invigorating him once more and moving him past his pain. The thrill and excitement of the combat, evident upon his face. For in this moment was who he truly was. A destroyer of worlds and dark executioner. He was Sith and these spirits would learn that neither they or the Fanged God would control his fate. Yes he would serve him but would always seek to surpass and break free. For his chains were broken, he would not be contained.

 

Taking out another, he noted Inmortos was still, deathly still. As if the ritual had taken alot out of him, which was understandable. Such rituals of Darkness always took a toll, a price. This was no different. As such, Akheron was forced, despite his naked current state to defend the God-King of Damned from retribution as well as himself. At least until he rose to again.

 

From one of the dispatched, he quickly removed what garments he could, wrapping it around like a roman toga. Hopefully enough to cover and conceal his genitalia. He didn't exactly wish for the trio to see anymore than was necessary. Even as a Sith. He looked to Bernon briefly, to see how the younger Warrior faired in a fight against the damned.

 

 

 

 

  • Like 2

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

                          Bernon Mrrgwharr readied himself as the enemy wraiths closed ranks around himself. He unsheathed his Limnal Blade and held it out before him, in a fighting stance. He was excited and eager to test his new combat skills against such monstrous foes. The surrounding wraiths jumped at him three at a time. One clawed towards his neck, but his hand was torn from his arm with a well-placed cut from his Dark weapon. He sliced upwards at the next, cutting him down without hesitation. The third was a bit more intelligent than the other feral-like undead around him, looking to pluck out his eyes with its clawed fingers. Yet it was never, and it never will be, a match for a Sith. The undead wraith struck, and it pounced on him, right before Apprentice Bern moved out of the way and cut down upon the now prone enemy.

 

                         This was like a combat exercise to him, and it was quite invigorating. He looked around for a short time to see how the others were faring. However he didn't have time to stop to watch the show, for he was in it. Three more wraiths moved on his position, each attempting to cut, prod, and grasp with their clawed fingers. They were sliced into, decapitated, and stabbed with his Limnal Blade, each falling soon enough. He was a bit more tired now, but he was a Sith, and these were feral wraiths, he would outlast them, he must outlast them. Another set of wraiths attacked, one holding some sort of spectral sword, however clumsy it was with the weapon, the sight of it distracted him enough to allow both the other wraiths to cut at his back. He grimaced in pain, then spun around to cut both down rather fast.

 

                         The two being able to strike at him was his own fault, a mistake he would keep in mind, and one he would not allow himself to repeat. At least the wounds would heal, they were temporary, and reminders of what failure in combat offers. The pain would toughen him further, and it would drive him to succeed in a battle such as this. He let his passions take control of him even more than before, allowing his anger and hatred of the wraiths to become heightened. This would fuel the Darkness, and this Darkness would allow a Sith such as he to succeed. After a few parries and strikes, the enemy who was clumsy with the blade fell to his own. His passion invigorated him, fueled him, and his tiredness was almost no longer there, his stamina and energy had been refueled, and he most certainly was ready whenever the next strike came.

 

                         He also was aware that his Master would be paying attention to this fight, and that especially with him here, he had everything to prove, so he would do his best in slaughtering these damned souls. The next group of three struck at him, and each had a spectral blade. All of them were still clumsy with the weapon, but now they all had blades, and they outnumbered him. It would be a real challenge this time, it seemed. After a bit of a drawn out fight, one of the wraiths lost his weapon, and his hand, then bled out. The next was unable to stand up to a flurry of blows from him, and his chest and neck were cut, striking that one down as well. The final one was the easiest, and he saved him for last, this one was killed with a stab to where his heart would be. He would continue to fight until all were put down.

Edited by Bernon Mrrgwharr
Editing Post
  • Like 2

 

 

Bernon.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

As the final spirit shattered into oblivion a cold stillness seemed to fill the room as icy ethereal fog rose up from the blood soaked coffin. It continued until, in moments, the room was awash in slick freezing mist that prevented any sigh further than inches past one’s nose. The force itself seemed to fog as well, lending an otherworldly cold chilled stillness to the silent room. The only thing that betrayed anything within the blinding darkness was a scrape across the stone floor followed by the soft gurgle of blood as something or someone was immersed within.

 

A cracking voice rasped through mist, it’s tone otherworldy and tired. 
 

“The God-King of Death demands that those bound to him in blood maintain this sacred tomb until such a time as he returns to claim his throne.”

 

For an instant, the fog seemed to lift, revealing a single frail shambling being with greasy gray hair hanging lose about it’s face, standing where Inmortos body had laid, but lay no more and then, in an instant, it was gone. The library materialized about the remaining Sith. It’s stillness even more overwhelming than the icy mists; but it too stood for but a moment, daring any fool to reach out for the forbidden knowledges contained inside. Any who did, would suffer the wrath of curses older and more sinister than the Sith Order itself.

 

“Grow in the force and become a force of death and when the eternal Inmortos returns, the wrath of the Clan will be felt the galaxy over.“

 

the voice cried out.

 

And in a flash, the accursed library and forbidden tomes were whisked away as if a great wind tore it from the pages of reality itself to be replaced by a great winding stone staircase that ascended upward in the flickering torchlight and oily smoke up into the base of Inmortos’ ziggurat.

 

and then the voice of Inmortos carried across the wastelands of the world…

 

“Blood and ichor will flow again. Souls frozen for all time.”

 

  • Like 3

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

“And so, when the stranger woke again, he walked into lost In-ho-tho-ta…” Solus continued his reciting as snow and ash blew about the Shard’s chassis. He had long since lost track of time, lost in the conjuring of stories he had been in. 

 

“And at In-ho-tho-ta, the stranger found all manner of beings walking and talking, but they all ignored him, like the lesser thing he was. For in his time, he had not grown fully.” 

 

Solus paused as he felt energy from the world swirl somewhere. This world clouded his senses terribly. He could still sense his master’s presence, but he could not tell where. Like a compass with a million magnetic poles to track, Solus was unable to mark a bearing for where his master was.   

 

“And so the stranger walked past In-ho-tho-ta, until he came upon the bony plains. And there, the whispering grew, until he found that which spoke in his dreams. That thing, that terrible visage of scales and bones and flesh and void…” 

 

“Beosta…”

 

Solus stopped and looked around. Nothing greeted him but snow and wind and ash. The voice that had called out was barely a whisper, but it had been there. The very air had grown still around the Shard. 

 

Solus studied the area, and recognised it. So he continued. 

 

“...and so that thing spoke to the stranger, asking him his desires. And the stranger gave them. And that thing, in its burbling madness, began to promise those desires…”

 

“EMLESH BEOSTA!”

 

The Shard stumbled as the ground beneath him shook with the voice’s shout. The voice had become a storm in of itself, demanding attention. Abovehead, invisible clouds swirled. Madness began to trickle through the very air itself as the Shard looked up. 

 

Solus began to shake. There in the sky, where once were stars, numerous predatory eyes looked down. Where there used to be clouds, Solus saw tendrils descending around the world. Where there once was gentle blowings of the wind, there was now the unbearable weight of grating flutes.

 

Where there once was void, there was The Spider

 

“Not…real…” Solus stammered, trying to hold the Madness back. “Not re-”

 

Redneterp!” the voice boomed. The planet shook again and Solus was forced onto his back. “Htoa ruoy otni evig!

 

The Shard shook as the Spider’s eyes became more prominent in the sky. It’s breath blew the ash and snow around him away like dust before a human, revealing the burnt ground below. It’s legs clutched the planet in an attempt to break it apart like some helpless egg.

 

"Retsam ruoy nommus! Beosta, eman ruoy mih evig dna!”

 

Solus reacted accordingly. The Spider had commanded, and he would answer. He raised his hand and gestured to the shaking ground before him. The rock broke apart, and upwards the thing began to rise

 

“BLOOD AND ICHOR WILL FLOW AGAIN! EFIL EMAN RUOY EVIG! EFIL TI EVIG!”

 

All of Solus’ being was conjured up and driven to the thing that grew out of the ground. Envy was the first thing to flow from the Shard, but certainly not the only thing. From him came anger, unrest, fear, and grief. The rage against his master’s heresy. The fear of being alone forever. The grief of never being wanted by his original family. Everything Solus had experienced from his birth was conjured and brought forth, and thrown into the Madness. 

 

Fleshy hands crawled over themselves. Mouths gibbered and screeched with abandon.  Luminescent eyeballs opened up and met the Spider’s gaze. Tendrils extended and flailed wildly, blistering in the freezing air. Carapacic, clawed legs finally broke through the ground, lifting the towering monstrosity upwards. Still, it did not stop. The fleshy tower began to float, and scream and sing with the invisible flutes. The legs pulled themselves into the fleshly mesh, swallowed by large oozing pustules, becoming a flying, tumorous worm-like growth.

 

“Eman ruoy evig! Beosta! Emlesh sommus! Maercs!” The Spider roared as itself evaporated away into nothing.

 

In reality, nothing had happened. There was no cosmic being shaking the entire planet with its teeth. The stars were still golden pieces of light billions of lightyears away. All that happened was that Solus experienced another bout of Madness. The madness itself had been momentarily enhanced by the necromancer’s powers that traveled across the planet, and made the vision feel that much more real to the Shard, but it was nothing more than falsehoods in the Force, enhanced by Darkness. 

 

But this episode of Madness did have one physical effect.  Solus had conjured up something. The illusion he had just given life to rose from the ground into the air and began to scream.  With all of the energies Solus had poured involuntarily into the monster, the thing used to scream and make ripples in the Force. Once Solus had done this before his first ascension. And now, Solus did it through his Madness. To those who knew the Shard, it was easily recognisable. To those who didn’t, it sounded like the ear-piercing screeches of flutes and electricity. 

 

But most of all, whoever heard it could detect the madness the illusionary Polyp radiated from its core. 

 

Solus stood and screamed with the thing, gazing at the flying Polyp and the empty sky. Still, he saw the Spider looking down, making demands and shaking the earth the Shard stood on. And so, Solus, and the Polyp, continued to scream.

 

Spoiler

FlyingPolyp.jpg?1512884231

 

  • Like 3

solus.png.1650ac06c988997ee4153ec4d899dbe1.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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!

  • Like 2

Dictum.jpg.0f5717fd74fdc4ee9bfc91ffc3fa3457.jpgDarth Dictum

 

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" - Edgar Allen Poe

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Finally the spirits were vanquished, denied of their prize. Akheron defied them and Death itself, yet again to bring forth his Wrath and Rage upon the galaxy, at least eventually. It seemed more had been asked of him, even as he stood in the bitter cold with his makeshift robe and a unnatural fog seemed to gather with a familiar voice carried up on it.

 

Calling upon him, demanding even. Although he could not be demanded, for he would not be ordered about like some hound. He was Sith. Although it did not mean he would not honour the commitment, he would look after the place as a favour nothing more. Even despite the fact he needed to retrieve his ship. Besides he had another matter to attend too here...albeit his designs had been altered slightly by the disappearance of the necromancer but he would adapt. 

 

As they returned to the reality of the real, Akheron felt him. His Apprentice was calling out in the force, the Darkness with his Madness. Threatening to consume them, and yet Akheron resisted as he walked. A unusual sight, for he still stood in the toga he had constructed with a borrowed lightsaber. One he would hold on to, unless asked otherwise and until his own were constructed again. He could feel his apprentice Envy. His Rage was palpable, and his thoughts open.

 

How he viewed what had happened as heretical. How little he knew. 

 

A smile crept across his lip, it would be as was needed. He needed to provoke him, to push him past his current limitations. To crave and tap into the Darkness more, and to face the final test of his current trial. This was the perfect opportunity, although after it would forever change their dynamic. He knew that much. For as with all a price would be paid for his ascension. He wondered what Dictum and Bernon would make of it. Bernon most of all for all would be affected.

 

As they ascended and made it to where his apprentice stood. His expression was plain and devoid of emotion, yet his presence in the Darkness spoke volumes.

 

He spoke.

 

 "My apprentice. Tell me were you successful in your endeavour? Did you secure what was asked and accomplish the task I set. Show me your proof and I will begin the next step."

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas
  • Like 2

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

                        Bernon Mrrgwharr had finally finished fighting, but there were more things it seemed he needed to attend. His Sith Master was gone for now, and he would look after the place alongside the other Sith until he returned. His secondary Sith Master Darth Akheron had an insubordinate Apprentice to deal with. He should follow him and watch, he thought. After all, he would learn from both of these Sith during the encounter. He sheathed his Limnal Blade and followed Darth Akheron, and while he did not know if Darth Dictum would follow or not, it didn't matter to him. If he chose to learn from this than good for him, or perhaps he had nothing to learn, whatever the case, he was his own man, and Bernon was focused on his own training, not Darth Dictum's. He followed Darth Akheron until he stopped near his Apprentice.

 

                       The Apprentice Solus was formidable, and it was possible he would fight his Master. However, he figured that it would be a lesson for Solus, rather than a victory. If he planned to fight a Master Sith Warrior in single combat whenever he was an Apprentice Sith Assassin, it was unlikely that he would find victory. However, he never knew what the Droid-Sith was capable of. He chose to stay silent during the encounter, this was not something he should intervene in, unless ordered to do otherwise. He watched as his secondary Master spoke to his Apprentice, and he waited to see what would happen during this encounter. While he waited and watched he also thought to himself, as he often did. He began to wonder if his Master had approved of his prowess in battle against the spirits.

 

                       It should never be too hard for a Sith to fight undead spirits, however, he was an Apprentice, and he tested his blade against theirs. He could only hope that his Master approved of the way he fought, and his success in battle. He had been hit during the battle, however, he was still learning, and he would make sure that he did not repeat those mistakes once more. He would contemplate on his failures and his successes, because if he didn't, he would not be able to improve, and he would repeat those failures again. He hadn't been paying attention too much to it recently, given all that had been going on. However, now that he was less distracted, he began to notice the cold temperatures here. It was slightly uncomfortable, but he was tough and hardy, it didn't cause much of a problem for Apprentice Bern.

 

                       He began to also contemplate on his transitions to becoming a Sith. He started out as a mere man, trained in the art of a mercenary. However, he had found out about his Force Sensitivity, and he had, unlike many, chosen the path of true power, the Sith. His ideals and personality fit in with them. He had transitioned not just mentally in the knowledge he gained from the Dark Book. He had also transitioned physically. If someone who knew him before looked at him now, he would be unrecognizable except for his formidable physical strength and size. Everything from his eye color to his skin coloration to his hairstyle had changed. It truly showed that he was no longer just Bernon Mrrgwharr the man. He was Bernon Mrrgwharr the Sith, and he allowed himself to feel pride for that.

  • Like 3

 

 

Bernon.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Solus and the Polyp changed their gazes to the one who called out. In doing so, the polyp began to flicker in and out of existence, losing the focus and thus the connection of the Shard. It only held on barely by the energies it had absorbed from its creator. Without focus, it had no power. 

 

Solus gripped his metal hands tighter at the sight of Dictum. Words flashed in his memory, and Solus’ voice box emitted several growling notes. 

 

“Where is that piece of filth, Blind one?” Solus shouted back, uncaring about pleasenries. 

 

Then he felt it and saw it. His master’s presence of darkness and pain and hate. The taste of Korriban was now before the Shard across the snow and ash. 

 

“The proof?” Solus gawked. “You die and spit in our god’s face and ask for proof of my accomplishments?”

 

The polyp in the sky began a gutteral screech, a representation of the growing anger in Solus. It began to circle in the air, its eyes never leaving the shard’s master. 

 

“The warship’s weakness will never be the knowledge of its joints and engines. No one except us knows its codes for destruction nor its methods of power supply. And no one except me knows its true blindspot!” 

 

Solus, in his anger, had recounted several technical details that only those with the plans could possibly know. To be fair, Solus did not have the plans on his person. He made sure to erase every last one on Falleen, and every high ranking cultist died at either his hands or during the Imperial cleansing. The only plans that existed were on the ship itself. But both Solus and, hopefully, Akheron knew that the Shard had a knack for remembering the smallest of details. 

 

“It’s greatest weakness is still it's only weakness: It’s Lord-Captain, a pretender of the ages. You may have once been my master, but I am your elder! A thing beyond the ages, and the one who will witness the final death. Behold!”

 

Solus gestured to the Polyp in the sky. The thing screeched and bellowed at the gesture, the Madness leaking in the Force from it like black ichor from a wound. Its flesh began to bubble and boil with unseen heat, and its eyes, barely connected by nerve tissue, almost squeezed out of their sockets.  

 

“EMLESH BEOSTA!” the thing screamed, the impossible geometries shuddering momentarily. 

 

“I am a student of the Flesh beyond Stars! Maker and seeker of the ending aeons. Timeless and endless! Observer and destroyer. Scholar and Dragon. 

 

Solus looked back at his master, and flickered his gaze to Dictim and Bernon.

 

“The Blind one once told me that to become a Sith Lord, I must slay my master.” Solus said these words still looking directly at Bernon, communicating the tasks ahead for the apprentice of Innmortos “And these words were a reflection of my own father’s tutelage.”

 

Photoreceptors looked back at Akheron. A metal finger flicked the lightsaber on, its red blade hissing to life. The wind around everyone picked up, as if it could sense what was coming. The Shard’s cape began to flap with it, piece of broken yellow from Falleen. Above, the Polyp circled closer, awaiting for its creator’s rituals, undeterred by the air. 

 

“Is that what you meant by the next step?” Solus hissed through his voice box as he gestured with his open and towards Akheron to attack. “Shall we break my last chain by breaking you?”

  • Like 3

solus.png.1650ac06c988997ee4153ec4d899dbe1.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The frozen world of Aaris III was swept by biting winds. Torrential storms of lightning and ice ravaged across the globe, slamming into the sprawling academic citadel of the necromancer, a school for the gifted and forgotten of the galaxy; and yet it stood a skeletal testament of ice to the final embrace of death, empty, save for the few parasites that crawled about it’s skeletal frame. And on the razored edge of the winds, the essence of the world, rent by the force an unnatural tear, carried the invisible minions of Krath Inmortos cast into the tear even as their brethren poured forth from the purple cloud ravaged skies.

 

Their eyes, their eyes were many, invisible and all-seeing as they descended like a fog over the city swirled by the vortex of winds and ice. Their voices whispered, lost by the winds as they carried beyond the veil, across the cosmos to their dark master. In the stillness of an alcove, seemingly untouched by the winds where drifts of icy powdered soulfrost gathered, a shadowy formless essence formed above the snow. It gestured out and drew the apprentice, @Bernon Mrrgwharr, inward. 
 

“MY servant,” 

 

the voice hissed, more snakelike and otherworldly than ever was the voice of the god-king as his whisper carried forth on both this life and the next.

 

”Take the Master of blades and rage to the armory. Deep within the city. Carry none but your shrouded blade before you and the spirits will part. Deviate from the path and thy blade will not stay them again.”

 

The ghostly visage began to twist and morph as an icy breeze seemed to billow down from above. The powdered snow of soulfrost pluming up and mingling with the blackened soul’s shadow. Rapidly it began to fade and just before the gloom of the Master Sorcerer vanished entirely, a final whisper flowed out.

 

”Heed the teachings of Akheron and learn how he can be struck down.”


——————————————————

 

Elsewhere on the world, the winds drove a singular servant, one bound to the devastation of Aaris III and uncontrolled even by Inmortos, held at bay from the citadel by transfiguring spiritual power. It was power that twisted flesh as the souls of man and beast alike were rendered mutant and grotesque. It was not Sith alchemy, but the madness of death itself as it played across a simple mind until it was destroyed. Uncontrollable by lash or will, manipulations of the dark side or healing light.

 

It’s massive form was shadowed by the storm, a storm that was bound to it’s heart by the torn veil itself. It was a storm that made the beast all but invisible to the

eye, both inner and mortal. The deathly hiss of it’s breath carried with the wind, betraying a hunger as it’s pointed armored legs carried it easily over walls and stories structures. With the casting of the god-king into the beyond, the shroud of protection offered by Inmortos’ necromantic power faded enough to allow it entry. It hunted now, searching for that which it had been denied for what could inly be described as eternity, it’s soul transcending time as it was condemned to the mortal plane.

 

And then it happened upon them, the Sith gathered above the world, @Solus, @Karys Narat iv-Adas, @Lord Ōk Rägnär. With the rush of plumed breath in a venomous hiss of anger, the towering beast brought it’s eight legs crashing down, spraying razored eruptions of eternity-bound ice into the air. It’s massive fangs clacked in the air as it sought to hunt the dark signatures it could sense through it’s eight blood red multifaceted eyes that seemed to shine against it’s ashen body.

  • Like 1

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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!"

  • Like 2

Dictum.jpg.0f5717fd74fdc4ee9bfc91ffc3fa3457.jpgDarth Dictum

 

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" - Edgar Allen Poe

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Akheron stood in silence even as his apprentice attempted to belittle and insult him. A vain attempt at his own provocation, playing right into the Sith Master's hand...for all was just as he wanted. Even if the means of achieving it were unexpected. And yet he saw how little the Shard still knew about the true nature of the Sith and indeed the Fanged God, he still had much to learn. Especially in relation to a Father of Dust had with Death and how the Baptism of Blood had  exploited that unique connection to assist his resurrection.

 

Yet again would he learn a lesson in that respect. Although he was not a total loss, it seemed he had at least learnt a fundamental truth of the Sith. That to ascend the first steps in Darkness he would need to face his greatest challenge. His greatest rival and challenge his master. But if he wanted to achieve anything he would need to tap and crave the Darkness more than he ever had before. It would require a push, one his master was more than willing to supply.

 

But first a unexpected challenger emerged.  It seemed their disagreement would have to wait. The beast the trio of Akheron, Solus and Krath Inmortos had birthed in months past, had come to kill it's fathers and creator. A leviathan birthed of blood, death, madness, wrath and rage. A being born of Darkness and twisted wills. He too fell down a crevice, and beheld the wicked form of his depraved 'son'. Born in part of his blood. He could feel the beings malice, and despite this felt a sense of pride at what it had become.

 

Far exceeding his expectations of the creature.

 

As Dictum yelled out, he awoke from his brief awe and ran as requested. He was not yet prepared for that particular challenge, and so with his will and the Darkness he sprinted but not before feeling something. Something ancient and yet strong in Darkness. Among the hallways as he ran, he briefly stopped as he felt it. Enthralled momentarily by the feeling. He wasn't sure if Bernon had followed or not but he was drawn to this new Darkness. A little further and he found a door, into where he did not yet know. Only he felt Death behind it and the same ancient malice he felt before only stronger. A familiar malice that seemed to speak of Wrath and Rage eternal. Of being moulded by the Darkness.

 

He was intrigued and sought a way to try and enter. No matter the price.

 

 

  • Like 1

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Solus wasn’t absolutely sure, but he felt like he wasn’t being taken seriously by either Dictum nor his ex-master. He didn’t get any kind of response from them. They didn’t nod in approval, or condemn his speech. They simply didn’t reply. 

Solus’ rage started to flare up further. It was the stupid tree all over again. 

 

Then the thing attacked. The yellow splash in the Impossible Geometries Solus recognized as danger helped the Shard react accordingly, but barely. His own anger prevented him from completely avoiding the attack. The Shard leapt forward, narrowly avoiding a crushing leg, only to be sent flying with the ice. Solus rolled his landing, and turned his gaze upwards. The thing, the strangely spider-like thing, was power incarnate. It held sway over the natural and unnatural alike. It was born from that which helped birth his Madness, and had mutated beyond recognition. Solus believed it absolutely ranked with Madness in the Geometries. 

 

“Hahaha! Yes!”  Solus laughed as he began to dart around the battlefield, avoiding another attack. “You have returned at the presence of your parents, haven’t you? You have returned for me? Hahaha!” 

 

The flying Polyp in the air completely vanished, no longer a focus for the Mad Shard. 

 

Run!” Dictum cried, to Solus’ insane laughter. The Shard was too elated on his own energies to listen.  Whether or not Solus was right about the thing’s motives did not matter to the Shard. Solus did not realize the thing couldn’t be controlled by himself or even all three of its creators. Solus’ Madness whispered in his ears lies and deceptions that, while he knew they were false, he didn’t care. 

 

Solus dashed forward, narrowly avoiding another crashing of the thing’s legs and the raining ice debris. As ice chunks rained down, Solus seemed to begin to dance amongst the chaos, striking poses between movements like some Desilijic servant girl. He only moved when a chunk was about to hit where he stood.

 

The Shard continued to laugh, his vocoder blaring more than ever. Solus was actually beginning to enjoy himself.

 

“And because one of your parents is wrong, you must kill all of them? Hehehe, yes, that makes sense. Yes! Yes yes yes! Attack! Clatter! Rampage, my sweet little baby! Distract and destroy. Keep the blind one and that necromancer busy while I end the heresy that is Akheron! Hahaha!”

 

Solus finally stopped dancing long enough to focus on the fleeting form of Akheron. Activated lightsaber still in hand, Solus gave chase. Akheron had a decent head start, and his legs were smaller, but Solus was sure that wherever his ex-master ran, Solus would be able to follow.

 

A thought flashed in his mind, both a teaching from the Temple of the Spider as well as his own training under Akheron. His prey was running from him. He was not properly armed, and at a disadvantage. The opportune moment to strike was now.  He could not waste what the universe had given him. 

 

Solus tapped into the Force and willed it through his body. His circuits buzzed with energy. Some Force users called this Force Speed, but to Solus, it was simply pursuit. His form left a trail of afterimages  rapidly closed the distance between him and his master. In a few seconds, his blade would swing across.

  • Like 2

solus.png.1650ac06c988997ee4153ec4d899dbe1.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

As the heart of the storm crashed overhead, so too did the beast-king of Aaris III. It’s razor-tipped legs that moved with grotesque grace were lithe and light but brought forth a needled hammer as they exploded soulfrost, ancient duracrete, and immortal ice with each rapid strike of blinding ferocity and hunger. Egged on by the dark side, a simple mind deranged by the touch of eternal damnation and brimming with vengeful hunger, the beast struck again and again paying no heed to the striking blades of the assassin as they clanked fruitlessly against it’s armored appendages. The blades carved furrows in the blackened carapace of the beast’s armored limbs and the poison hissed as it met mortality and was repulsed; it’s bite being consumed by both storm and the dark primordial poisons that flowed through it’s veins. The first of many appetizers had presented itself and the predator would have given chase had it not been for what happened next.

 

An explosion of the force erupted to draw the fell beast’s attention as a creature of metal and stone turned to flee in pursuit of  another tasty morsel. Its mind warped by the darkness, such a monster knew the call, could taste the fruits of victory as it began to salivate, giant globules of steaming acidic venom slathering from its mandibles onto the frozen ground below. With such dexterity and agility its kind were known for, the beast could not hope to catch the source of darkly erupting power, @Solus, but it mattered not; for to hunt, its kind had other methods. Augmented by the veil and the vengefulness of the dark side itself, it moved.

 

The storm crashed. Peels of thunder filled the air. Wind and frozen pellets of ice tore through the air seeking purchase on flesh, earth, and whatever may foolishly stand before it unguarded. Turning, the fury of the storm enveloped the beast its crimson eyes to glow, all that could be seen before the eight blood-red rubies vanished into the thundersnow. 
 

Traversing along the razored edge of the veil, the beast ceased to exist within the mortal realm; transiting between death and damnation and the living. Time and space meant nothing, able to live between the worlds that had birthed it. The beast

moved, unshackled by the laws of nature existing within the nothingness until it sensed it, the surge of force power as it highlighted the blinding rush of mechanized daemon. Bending its abdomen, the beast spat forth tethers of eternity-corrupted nature, sticky strands wrought as pliable frozen neuranium. They leapt from the frozen air of the storm, materializing with the beast in an expansive entangling web toward the Sith apprentice before he might strike at the the ill-armored prey of the beast.

 

With a guttural hiss that sent sprays of venom flying in the wind, the beast turned to see his red-fleshed quarry dart down a hallway into the citadel of Inmortos. The beast’s daggered appendages scraped and clawed at the entrance to the hallway as @Karys Narat iv-Adas made his way deeper toward the unlatched door of Inmortos’ storehouse of hand-crafted experiments and creations.

 

Realizing the futility of such efforts, the beast seemed to dissolve into the storm itself transcending between the mortal and immortal planes waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

  • Like 2

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Akheron could feel his apprentice intention long before he saw it, his connection to the Darkness and him easily allowing him to know what would happen next. His mind while engulfed in Madness was still easy to read for a Master of Darkness such as he was. As he swiped Akheron dodged with almost minimal effort, his Rage and Wrath threatening to erupt at such a cowardly attack. Or at least that' was how he viewed it, to strike while his back was turned. 

 

If he desired Death he would soon have it. His own. 

 

As he was about to answer the assault, the primordial beast the trio had spawned from the Darkness and profane ritual, took action. Reaching out to try and ensnare his wayward apprentice and this allowing Akheron a momentary reprieve. Heading forwards, Akheron entered the unlatched door, feeling called inside by something. Something ancient and engulfed in Darkness as if moulded by it and Death's very emissary. After entering, Akheron took the precautionary measure of latching the door after he entered to bar his apprentice from reaching him. 

 

From behind the door he spoke, hopefully his apprentice heard it loud and clear.

 

"You would dare strike at me while my back is turned apprentice!? Like a coward. You will have your change apprentice at facing me and settling this dispute...but only when I deem it. Make no mistake, you and I have much to discuss and we will settle this...disagreement. A reckoning is coming mark my words but not yet."

 

At least not until he deemed it. Looking around he moved anything not of value and used it to block the door just in case he opened it. Stacking items up until the door was entirely obscured and securing them via a Tetris like configuration with the Darkness at his command. Hoping that would do it for now, he looked around. It appeared to be some kind of storage facility or armoury. He noted the many obscure and unusual items, most were of no interest at all, while others only vaguely peaked his interest.

 

Science was never his forte. 

 

Eventually he draw closer to the source of what he felt. Heading deeper into the room, Akheron descended down a single flight of stairs to a lower level of the facility. Down below, after moving along a dimly lit hallway, there at the end he finally saw what he had felt even as whispers of the Darkness warned of the dangers of approaching it. 

 

But approach he did, with caution. 

 

Slowly at first, holding the loaned lightsaber Dictum had gifted him close to hand. Within the dark of the room and dim light, he saw at the end of the hallway open up to a larger area. Within he saw it. A single grand pedestal, surrounded by blue flame lit torches, marked with ancient text and seemingly glowing. Approaching the pedestal, still with caution he looked upon it. Drawn to it.

 

Stepping closer, he looked and observed. There up in it sat a most unusual looking armour set. 

 

It was a mix of loose plate and mail, and included a face concealing mask. A preference he liked. He could feel the armour, cursed as it was with the profane magic of the Sith. He could feel it trying to leach at his soul, but found only resistance and a unfathomable strength it could not break. A strength born of Darkness. Picking it up, he could feel it stronger now and could see the markings. What he saw surprised him.

 

There upon it in ancient Sith language, was his name inscribed. It then became clear why he had felt it and it's purpose. This was all the doing of the necromancer, of that he was certain. Even if Death he aided Akheron, a fact he would not forget. It was a worthy gift, and he quickly set about replacing the rags he had been wearing. Soon enough and he looked the part of the Sith Warrior he was. Fully encased in armour.

 

Next to wear once it has been, he noted another item of interest. A lightsaber he recognised as belonging to Inmortos himself. He felt something urge him to pick it up, even as fresh blood dropped from it. Yet he wondered how the lightsaber came to be here. Last he recalled Bernon had been holding onto it. Another mystery soon to be solved.

 

Satisfied, Akheron looked around. Deciding to use the opportunity to find components for his new lightsaber when he constructed it. He quickly found them, scattered about and pocketed them for later. 

 

He now felt complete and so went back up. From there he would approach the door and set the challenge to his apprentice. If he wanted his life he would force him to do it in a proper way. The traditional way of the Sith to settle such a dispute. 

 

Listening to see if Solus remained, he called out.

 

 "I will open the door, but I expect no resistance. I wish to discuss a way to resolve our...dispute in a way worthy of a Sith Master and the Darkness. A way I think you will enjoy. You have my word you will not be harmed while we discuss it, I expect the same courtesy, you owe me that at least."

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas
  • Like 1

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

As Solus brought his lightsaber across for what was hopefully a killing blow, his form became still in the air. Webs of sticky ‘stuff’ practically suspended the Shard in the air, unable to move at all. 

 

What the kriffing piece of scrap are you…” Solus started to yell. Having not expected such an attack, his grip on his lightsaber had loosened and the blade, deactivated flew to the side. “You stupid child! This death would have made you happy, and now you only have…”

 

Solus stopped, then suddenly began to giggle. 

 

Oh that is clever my child!” Solus called out to the beast, having conjured a new lie to believe. “You stop me because a reckless killing is not worthy of an assassin! Oh sweet child, how I misunderstood you! Haha!”

 

Solus twisted his head and focused his gaze on where his lightsaber landed. Even as he stood helpless in the air, the Sith apprentice was not helpless. Calling on the Force, the lightsaber shook several times before activating. Solus’ emotions in the Geometries wrapped themselves around the blade’s crystalline heart, born from Solus’ own envy. With an invisible hand gripping the weapon, Solus called it back, blade activated. 

 

The blade flew. While it was halted momentarily by the webbing's hard material, Solus continued his focus. After a short time, the webbings were sliced through, and Solus fell to the ground. 

 

“Haha, behold, a new look!” Solus exclaimed as he noted the webbings still stuck to his yellow cape, trailing like ghostly fingers.

 

Solus caught Akeron’s first words from behind the door. Solus sighed and sheathed his blade. 

 

“Oh great esteemed master!”  Solus mocked as he pressed his hand against his eye sensors, imitating an actor on stage. “How sorry I am to attack your exposed back! How I should've realized that when you taught me to attack those Acklay,  I wasn’t supposed to use tricks and traps! I was supposed to announce myself to them, like a true Sith Assassin!”

 

However, try as he wanted, Solus was stuck outside the door waiting. A subtle rage began to regrow in the Shard. He had lost his prime opportunity to kill Akheron. No doubt whatever was inside, Akheron was preparing himself for a fight. Solus dwelled on how he would have to accomplish such a deed. His master was a skilled warrior. No matter what happened, Solus needed to make sure to stay out of his blade’s reach.

 

Finally, Akheron spoke again. 

 

 "I will open the door, but I expect no resistance. I wish to discuss a way to resolve our...dispute in a way worthy of a Sith Master and the Darkness. A way I think you will enjoy. You have my word you will not be harmed while we discuss it, I expect the same courtesy, you owe me that at least."

 

Solus stopped and had to wonder. Was Akheron this dumb to think Solus would actually play by the rules of honor? True, Akheron placed a great deal of emphasis on honor, but for the Shard, honor was a virtue that needed to be purged to make room for Madness. As Chosen Emlee’esh said, virtues were just roadblocks to further discoveries. Course, Akheron didn’t know the Temple’s teachings, but there was no way he was that dumb. No, Akheron had something genuine inside to offer.  

 

Against his better judgment, Solus was curious. Perhaps something useful would come from playing along for now. If anything, An open door meant potential opportunities to kill the Sith master. Solus just had to be careful. If Akheron expected Solus not to play by the rules of honor, there was no reason he would either. But if he did, it would be proof that Solus was actually dealing with Akheron and not some imitation conjured up by the necromancer. 

 

“Very well, master, if you insist.” Solus lied as he kept his deactivated saber in his hands.  “It is the least I can do for a heretic like yourself. I swear my blade will not touch you until after we speak. Now let me in. Let's settle this properly, so that way we can calm our mad child. ” 

  • Like 2

solus.png.1650ac06c988997ee4153ec4d899dbe1.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Akheron heard his apprentice outside, talking to himself again and throwing another insulting accusation. Accusing of heresy, and yet Akheron knew he knew so little still. He would soon learn his error and the cost of throwing such accusations about without knowing the context of the events. How he would suffer but with any luck in his suffering and defeat learn what it was to truly be a Sith. That he would be reminded of the philosophy they followed and that by defying Death and the denying the Fanged God his soul, Akheron was following the Code.

 

By breaking another chain. A fact the Fanged God would be impressed by and acknowledge, for it had not been his true Death. That time had not yet come and only then would the Fanged God get his due. Not before. Opening the door, with caution, Akheron stood defiant and fully armoured before his wayward apprentice.

 

 "At least you see some reason, despite your unfounded accusations. You still know so little...for it was through the Baptism of Blood that I live again, a bonus of the ritual you might say. A side effect you too share should you fall. Besides, have you forgotten the unique role the Father of Dust plays? What before I told you? Have you forgotten what it means to be Sith? That we must seek to break all our chains. Death is just another chain broken, one I have done so may times. The Fanged God understands this even if you cannot. 

 

The Fanged God would be impressed I have broken such a chain and denied him, at least for now. For the time of final Death is not yet due, only then will he claim my soul and not before. As such no heresy is committed as much as you may in your maddening mind may believe it. But since you insist on carrying out this charade...I offer this."

 

 Pausing a moment, Akheron looked beneath his mask about into the very air itself. As he spoke, it was as if a declaration to the Darkness had been called, for he put in motion events that could now not be undone. A inevitable consequence of all that lead them to this moment.

 

 "You are correct in that if you wish to advance in Darkness you must defeat me. A trial by fire, a final test. At least the only one that matters before becoming a Master of Darkness. I offer the chance to ascend and settle our dispute through a manner traditional to our ways. I hereby declare and will the Darkness, and any soul within to bare witness to this statement. I challenge you in my capacity as your Master and as a Sith to the ancient rite of Kaggath. A rite you cannot deny less incurring heavy penalties from the Darkness and the Fanged God. A rite long used to settle such disputes but rarely used. 

 

If you are unaware of what it is allow me to explain. The rite of Kaggath is one part duel, one part large-scale dejarik-match, and pits Sith against Sith unto humiliation and death. As the challenger I can set the arena, in this case I choose the frozen wastelands of this planet. You shall have no choice but to employ all your skills in a attempt to try and to outwit and outmaneuver myself as your opponent in an attempt to defeat me. Per the rules this must be fought without any kind of outside help, in a direct confrontation. The breach of any rule of the rite will be enforced by execution of any offender, the same applies to any attempts to cheat...strictly enforced by any other Sith not involved in this Kaggath. The Kaggath will reach a conclusion when one side has defeated the other or surrendered, with the triumphant Sith choosing whether to terminate or let your opponent live with the weight of humiliation. To decline is to accept defeat. 

 

Do you accept the challenge or accept your current fate? Know that this is the point of no return, after tonight our dynamic changes...forever. For we shall use this Kaggath to see if you are ready for the next stage. To see if the Darkness recognises you as ready. If you accept I will allow you time to prepare and make way o the wasteland. Beyond that your on your own."

 

Akheron awaited an answer, knowing he had no choice really but to accept. He felt the shift in the Darkness around them, as the Darkness itself accepted the rite and recognised the challenge.

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The storm itself seemed to recoil for the moment, the winds dying as heavy snow continued to fall all about the challengers. Thunder rang in the distance as if to shake the citadel itself and atop  the towering barrqcks Akheron had just exited the massive beast of Aaris materialized, clinging effortlesslesly to the crenelations   As it watched the proceedings below play out; seemingly held at bay as its hunger filled the air with the snow.

 

The hilt at Akheron’s side rattled and buzzed against the Sith steel armor he wore and in the stillness a flg of spirits descended from the storm, the sky, seemingly from the very planet itself. They hissed and screamed in agony, telltale signs of their eternal torture in the world beyond even as they sought refuge, shadows in this world, but servants to a god-king that transcended both who yet was bound by the shackles of inevitable truth. Yea, even a Sith sorcerer powerful enough to command life and death with a sweep of his hands, one day would owe the tax of the ferryman. From the cloud of swirling wailing spirits emerged a blackened haze, a wraith that brought bore before it and with it an otherworldly chill that touched all before it, sapping power and strength from bone and steel alike. Amalgamous in form the mighty wraith approached the Sith, master and apprentice. Slowly it began to take form. The heavy cloak of the necromancer was gone as was his skeletal form; what remained was a testament to the ravages of the dark side, to walking the precipice between two worlds and refusing to be contained by either. A humanoid form devoid of color and life, his body shriveled and twisted, muscled flayed out and long flowing hair, once colored as the rainbow muted to  blacks and grays matted down the figure’s back and face. Pain and suffering from a thousand lifetimes were rolled out like a scroll on the visage of the body that approached. Ancient words etched in blood across every surface of exposed flesh that told of the sins committed by its bearer in life. A tattered robe of sackcloth was all the visage was afforded for decency and even that had been rent and torn asunder, flayed by invisible whips and hellfire.

 

The being approached, walking atop the deepening snow and leaving no trace of it’s pacing. It cold pained eyes glistened with unseen power as the shackles

of death, of the oath and ritual that had, for the time, bound Inmortos, materialized as he stretched out in an effort to strike both Solus and his master.

 

Through the agony of his soul, tortured beyond recognition, the spirit of the god king of death himself was defiant. For as pained and crippled might he appear, his every movement was that of eternal

command, a shackled king, and yet a master of the eternal and damned.

 

Stopping to stand between the two challengers, the god king looked first at the mechanized man of metal, then to the steel encased warrior.

 

”I see you have found my gift”

 

he spoke, his voice barely a whisper, yet it carried louder than the storm that raged all about them. It’s authority apparent as even the great beast above recoiled in tense hatred and animalistic fright, a shrill

hiss of defiance winding into the winds above. The very pain and tortured undying of a soul betrayed on the breeze.

 

”The tears of the dead flow freely in this place and their eternal sufferings now clothe your body, drawing strength and life. Even now your life, saved by my oath, serves my will and shalt free me from the shackles of eternity.”

 

He spoke explaining the curse and blessing bestowed upon the trailings of predestination before he continued, his gaze burning with an ethereal chill as he stared beyond the carapace of Akheron into his very soul. Slowly he turned his head from master to apprentice, the same burning frostfire weighing the Shard against the malevolence of eternity.

 

”And this right, this Kaggath, I have heard it proclaimed. By the rite of the Sith, I shall see it enforced in this life and eternity; for to break it is to resist the final shackles that lie unbroken by any Sith who has come before and to offer your body and soul up for eternal punishment beyond my hand.”

 

As he stared, his eyes boring into Solus with a sickening hatred, he continued.

 

”And of this, your soul shall be damned to a world In which your tricks, your spider, hold no sway. You shall be cast into a lake of eternal fire and yet frozen beyond all understandings of pain. Every second shall be like an eon as you endure new and unheard of tortures at my hand; for you are too weak for this world, a mere stone unable to function without the crutch of a slave, driven by fear of an unseen master’s lash you have yet not felt. And why should you not? For you defy a god who by his very nature has allowed your heresies to build, a god by whom you cannot seek to understand lest beat. You defy your master. You prostrate yourself before a beast of madness. That very madness you will transcend in this defeat, as the legs are plucked from your spider one by one. You defy me, one who would give you eternity; one who has overcome the very god you seek to defy.”

 

A cold shackled hand passed across both acolytes of darkness as Inmortos stepped forward to stand directly  between the two. He outstretched gnared and teisted hands to place a palm against the metallic chest of each. Searing cold seemed to arc forth as frosty blackened handprints appeared on both.
 

“By this you are bound.”

 

he hissed as his body faded from sight, first his shackles and then his form, leaving not but his words, mark and bitter fold a testament to his presence. And as he vanished and the winds of the storm rushed in to throw cutting ice and ravage once more, his words whispered to the apprentice, 

 

“You are but a slave to the madness, a master known not to you but upon the surface; shackled so that you might never become what you are destined. You are already defeated and can blame no one but yourself. You could have been mine and in the end, it is inevitable. You shall.”

 

And as the spiritual entourage screamed off into the storm, the spirit of Inmortos departed. Drug back to the hellish eternity or to lurk atop his throne remained to be seen, but he had appeared and bound the Kaggath within the law of the Sith and within the confines of eternity. Above, the mighty beast of Aaris stirred, no longer repulsed. It could sense the mark of death upon both and before the day was out would seek to devour each. Slowly, hanging by a thread of neuranium, it’s eight massive legs clacking against the wall, mandibles tasting the storm-swept air , the beast began to descend. To tarry he for but a word would invite another challenge, the challenge of life and death outside the bound of Sith rite and law, a sure defeat before the games could even begin.

Edited by Krath Inmortos
Forgot to bold speech
  • Like 1

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites


If Solus was capable of doing so, he would’ve rolled his eyes. Sadly, he did not have facial muscles, so his look of disappointment was missed. It seems that this thing was in fact, Akheron. The emphasis on honor, the misguided pompousness of being closer to the Fanged god than Solus was, and now the delusion that Innmortos actually belonged to the cult of Bragsanu. 

 

There was no mistake, this was Akheron and not some false thing made by the necromancer. All of the Shard’s emotions on Falleen had been for naught. 

 

Solus was about to speak when the necromancer appeared. Or rather, his saber at Akheron’s side shook and the necromancer took form.  

 

“Oh look, the ghost of Aaris’ past.” Solus commented as the necromancer spoke. Once Innmortos was done, and issued that he would enforce the ruling of such a duel, Solus placed his hands on his hips and laughed.

 

“I will accept your challenge, you heretics. But not because I actually respect your foolish beliefs Akheron, nor your puny threats, victim of vapor. Had my child not intervened, you would’ve already been dead, and the necromancer would be running from the spider’s terror. I have tapped into powers beyond recognition, and my restraints have been loosened completely. You Akheron, must die, and this… Kaggath is the best opportunity to erase your heresy from history.  And as for you necromancer, you forget my very being! I have lived aeons already, less than nothing! I was banished from everyone, but I ascended! So if I lost and was banished to the insides of your planet, I would return again after its inevitable death!” 

 

Solus turned and began to leave the chamber, but stopped and faced the two. 

 

“I am not just Solus, nor the Golden Slave, nor even the Dragon! At the end of this, you will know my true name! Let the ritual of the Kaggoth begin!” 

 

At this, Solus reached into the Impossible geometries, activated his saber, and threw it upwards. As the blade slashed through the stone ceiling, it began to crumble as the lightsaber cut through a pivotal load-bearing spot. With this, Solus turned and dashed away from the crushing rubble. He didn’t actually believe the rubble would kill Akheron, the wraith-like Innmortos, or even blind Dictum, wherever he was. However, it would provide a distraction so he could get to his ship and make preparations.  

Solus called his blade back as he passed the room’s entrance and sliced at the roof above the door, crumbling it behind him as well. Any continues delays he could cause Akheron, the better for him. True, this wasn’t a 'honorable' tactic, but the playground Akheron had declared was the planet’s wastelands. To Solus, the entire planet was a wasteland, as well as what laid beneath it, like this chamber. Especially Innmortos, the living embodiement of the planet's wastelands.

 

"Besides" Solus commented to himself. "I'm an assassin. Honor is for the weak"  

 

Solus dashed with the mania of a madman and returned to his ship, the Force fueling each step. Once inside, the Shard quickly got to work.  First, Solus took the remaining webbing from the spider monster off of his cape and rewrapped it around his lightsaber. When he had been caught up in the webbing earlier, the strange silk resisted a lightsaber blow momentarily, and required Solus to hold the strike to break free. While he doubted it would last more than one strike from Akheron, Solus loved the idea of using his 'childs' gift on his weapon. 

 

At the ship, Solus did his second task; he made a fake lightsaber hilt. Made up of various parts from the ship that he had already dismantled to construct his latest blade, this fake wouldn't work even with a Kyber crystal. It was nothing more than a fake exterior prop. In his rush, the fake hilt would never pass close inspection, but in combat, it would pass as the genuine. Solus hid the fake hilt behind him and under his cape. 

 

Finally, Solus retrieved a copy of the Korriban transmission. He knew Akheron still loved his home, even if he didn't admit it. This battle would be more than just a test of skill. It would be a battle of morale as well, and the lord of rage would break under the shards' ingenuity. The message of Korriban falling under the imperials would be useful.

 

Solus glanced up. He felt something. Something was happening outside his ship. The Shard dashed outside to meet it, his genuine hilt in hand. Whether or not it was Akheron, he didn’t know. But he would be ready for it. 

 

"Come heretic! Face your undoing!" 

  • Like 1

solus.png.1650ac06c988997ee4153ec4d899dbe1.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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.

  • Like 1

Dictum.jpg.0f5717fd74fdc4ee9bfc91ffc3fa3457.jpgDarth Dictum

 

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" - Edgar Allen Poe

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Far above, the storm continued to engulf the bulk of the world, both the citadel/academy and the barren wastes of duned snow and crumbled mountains. Thunder and lightning arced and rang across the world interrupting the droves of windswept snow and ice. None kf that mattered however; not here, this far below. Here the chill came from something else. The stillness seemed to creep to the bone.

 

The library, stores of dark tomes, forbidden sorceries, cursed objects and more seemed to stretch out endlessly deep beneath the surface of the planet. Ancient catacombs and frost-formed passageways that morphed and shifted beneath Sith sorceries and ancient mysteries teetered on the edge of reality as they twisted beyond the veil of death and back. Contained within the magics of the vast storehouse of forbidden knowledges and cursebound ancients, the vault of Inmortos remained, untouched and yet, trespassed. It was here that the assassin Dictum had returned to try and broker a deal with the god-king of death himselt.

 

Spells older than the Sith itself, dark curses from beyond the edges of the galaxy, and malevolent wraiths bound in their pots and lanterns shifted in the still air atop the robe draped mummified remains of an unknown body. Dark icy auras, the call of death itself, seemed to emanate from the corpse.

 

As the assassin affixed the bloodstained saber hilt of Inmortos, the spirits shackled within were torn from the great beyond and cast into the tomb. With hissing screams they erupted with the red blade as the saber seemed to spring to life.

 

From the shadowy recesses of the unadorned burial chamber, the lurching servant of Inmortos seemed to materialize, a grizzled being of whose very life had been claimed and shackled; bound not in life, but in death to serve its god. The once high priest of Aaris III bound to a dead form no longer his own, an eternal caretaker. The dead form’s voice was barely a whisper as he laughed at the assassin’s words. ”You are mistaken.” he hissed as an outstretched finger pointed beyond the Sith Lord’s shoulder. 
 

There looming larger than life itself, as if to engulf the entire room, was the growing ghostly visage of Inmortos. His grotesque form barely visible beneath the ethereal blue of his cloak offset to a sickly black shadow in the glow of the humming spirit saber.

 

”Lord Dictum.” 
 

he spoke, his voice pained. 
 

“my soul is bound to this place and yet stretched across the cosmos. I am bound to the world beyond by oaths beyond mortal understanding and yet bound to this place. My work is not yet complete. Your service shall see its just reward.”

 

he spoke of the Baptism of Blood that had drawn Akheron back from the tortured hellscape he had been cast unto. He alluded to the ancient spells that ensnared him as he had passed unto death and imprisoned him to this reality. Stretching out a rotted ghostly hand, the wraith moved as if to plunge it into the man’s chest, icy crystals materializing where ethereal and mortal met. A gentler soul might have taken its time, expertly carving a portion of what was desired; but not Inmortos. The existential pain that racked his body quivered even as his bony fingers clasped the very soul of @Lord Ōk Rägnär and raked across the surface before finding a spiritual crevice within his chest. The gnarled pointed digits of the necromancer, shackled to this world by magics that superseded death itself, pierced the man’s soul and with a heave that shuddered the entire burial chamber and beyond tore forth a shattered, ichor-bleeding portion of Dictum’s eternal soul. 
 

The visage of Inmortos seemed to flicker for a moment as pain unexplainable washed over the room causing spirit, shade, and shambler to cry out in pain. A mighty wave of unnatural necromancic energy toppled the undead servant who had been present in the room as it rocked the bedrock that contained the burial chamber itself. The former priest fell to the ground, his form crumbling to dust as it plumed into the air, a fog of death itself. The spirits of Inmortos’ saber shrieked before vanishing with the spirit that remained of Inmortos. The blade itself sputtered before it fell silent, the bloody coating drained from it’s now shimmering black hilt, the power of the souls and crystals that powered it depleted, drawn forth by the unseen spells that even now continued to wind their wills, bound to a path set forth by eternity past and future.

 

And then, just as suddenly as the room had eruoted, it fell deathly silent. The tormented vortex of darkness replaced by a heavy frigid stillness that threatened to suffocate the minds and hearts of any ensnared within. As Dictum dealt with the physical and spiritual consequences of his soul being rend in two by the necromancer’s undead power and ancient spells, a shrouded hand clasped the edge of the stone sarcophogus, the deep echo of such a simple movement echoing through the very force itself as something was given unholy unnatural rebirth. Ever so slowly, the mummified creature within began to rise.

  • Like 2

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

×
×
  • Create New...