Almas

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer gave a nod acknowledging what Dominus said as he continued his focus. Listening to the sith master's voice inside his head allowing him to freely roam to a degree but not so far as to view all he knew, afterall allowing anyone too far could be dangerous. The kiffar sith lord only allowed him to speak inside his mind nothing beyond that.

 

Listening Lucifer focusing as asked on absorbing the heat allowing it to become part of him almost rather than allowing to flow by him. Slowly he could feel the change...the heat began to subside when the sith lord let the heat flow through his body like some kind of wire allowing electricity to pass through using him as the conductor or conduit.

 

No longer did he feel the burning sensation nor did his skin burn, in fact it felt more like the heat was a breeze flowing over him and through him.

 

The sith lord spoke.

 

''I have done as asked. I can no longer feel the heat of this place...I feel comfortable as opposed to burning.''

[Darth Dominus]

"I'm not going to waste time by fine tuning these lessons," Dominus said. "That isn't really fair to you, but events elsewhere warrant the acceleration of your training. You will have to practice these skills on your own, and develop yourself as an Alcazarin. What you have just learned is the first principle of Force absorption. But there is so much more than will come with practice. Where a Sith creates Force Lightning, we manipulate the electricity already in the air. Where a Jedi uses Force Strength, we draw energy from solid rock. This is the true form of the Force. We don't use the Force, we are a conduit. If something is the will of the Force, the Force will provide you with what you need."

 

Dominus walked deeper into the cavern. Now that Lucifer had learned to absorb the heat, he could perceive it easier. The path through the black lava was clear to him. It wasn't long before they reach a wider chamber. Dominus pointed to the obsidian walls that surrounded them.

 

"That is Darkmetal. Its only source is this location, deep under Almas. It is what our great leader Darth Rivan used to construct my Darkstaff, as well as the Dome that encases the entrance to this chamber. You must choose the weapon you will construct to replace your lightsaber. Use the Darkmetal to build it. Some have built Darkswords or Darkstaffs or other weapons. As long as it is constructed of Darkmetal, it will function as an aid to accelerate the absorption of Force energy. That you will have to do later however. Sit please."

 

In the darkness of the cavern, as the black rivers flowed around them, Dominus touched Lucifer's mind.

 

"This is the moment of your initiation. You must open your mind to me, so I can complete the Force bond. Once bonded, you will be able to sense the thoughts and feelings of myself, Haphaestus, and all others of our order. This bond is permanent. It is a brotherhood that cannot be undone, short of death. The Force bond will prevent you from harming any other Alcazarin. Should you attempt to, the injury would reverberate back to you. Lower your defenses Lucifer, so that I may enter your mind."

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer listened before moving with Dominus deeper into cavern. It seemed he was just shown some kind of new force technique...which in his books was always a good thing, one could never be without too much knowledge. He understood the concept, how they were a conduit, a instrument or rather one part of the process it took two to make a whole weapon.

 

He would heed Dominus advice and practice as time went on but for now he focused on what was before him. Listening to what he said about the Darkmetal the kiffar decided on his choice---it seemed he would need to repalce his sabre, despite the fact he had grown quite fond of the object much blood and sweat had gone into it's construction, literally however he would do as he needed to be done. His choice was made quickly he would replace his cortosis schimitars with the Darkmetal although that was not to say he would forget his sabre completely...the blade would serve him just as well as his new swords.

 

The two curved swords would serve as a fear inspiring sight to his enemies with the crimson black as well as provide the necessary protection from sabre blades with a cortosis lined edge, he envisioned the design of both in his head and set it at the back of his mind to access at a later date. For now he focused on his current task and as instructed opened his mind after giving a nod although a little wary at first initially he gave in knowing it would serve to aid him later should he need it, afterall such a bond would provide easy access to allies who would aid in times of need just by feeling him in the force and to a extent see what he was going through.

 

He would not go back, not now...he had come too far to get to this point and thus he opened his mind up like an open book ready to read more or less.

 

It was only then that the sith lord spoke.

 

''It is done.''

[Darth Dominus]

Dominus had been waiting for the defenses to come down, and even before Lucifer had spoken the words, Dominus had entered his mind. This was not a true invasion. Dominus also had released his defenses, and so Lucifer would find the thoughts of Dominus open as well. The Dominus reached out. Across the galaxy, it was impossible to read the minds of the other Alcazarins. But he could still feel them. An invisible spiritual thread connected them all, even from great distances. He gathered all of these threads.

 

We are all brothers now. Bound together, so that we can neither harm nor hide our true feelings from each other.

 

For a brief moment, Dominus and Lucifer felt a new presence. A dark shadow loomed over them, and Dominus knew it was Darth Rivan. Their true Master, as the creator of this Force ability, would always be part of any bonding.

 

We are finished. You no longer need to use the Force to hear my thoughts, if we are close enough. Nothing I think or feel is hidden. Your training is not complete, you will have to finish it on your own, in your own time. I sense you have things you need to see to, and so do I. I release you as my brother and my equal.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer felt the change, it was a strange feeling to be connected to so many...to be apart of something bigger than himself and anything other than the sith order, but yet here he was.

 

Giving a nod of gratitude the sith lord spoke albeit it was with his voice but rather of the mind, it was not even via using the force the bond allowed him to speak and Dominus would hear his words regardless.

 

I feel our new bond. I accept you as brother long may we be as one, may our enemies fear us and our allies made stronger. It is true I have some things to take care of however I am at somewhat a disadvantage my ship was left behind on Vjun. If alternate transport were arranged it would be apprechiated that I can retrieve it.

[Darth Dominus]

"One of my faceless droids will be waiting outside with a shuttlecraft. You may use the droid as pilot or fly yourself back to Vjun," Dominus said, speaking out loud now. "I must depart myself. Hopefully we will meet again soon. I will be supporting Haphaestus, and though I anticipate no trouble, you will know if we are in danger. One last thing, make sure you disguise your hyperspace route when you leave or arrive on Almas. And never bring anyone who is not an Alcazarin here, even one of your apprentices. You are free to use Vjun and my manor there, but always come here alone. You may take quantities of Darkmetal off the planet if you need to, so you may forge your weapon, but do not let them fall into any other hands."

 

With that, Dominus gathered his Darkstaff and exited the underground sanctuary. He was tired, from the bonding, but he knew he needed to leave immediately. Dominus had called his freighter to his location, and the ship was waiting for him when he left the Dark Dome. Dominus would sleep on the way, and hopefully would be rested upon his arrival. The New Sun headed for hyperspace.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer gave a nod of apprechiation briefly speaking before he made his way back through the way he came.

 

''You need not worry about that I shall be sure to cover my tracks. Our secret shall remain safe I shall only be a stones throw away should you need help. Let Haphaestus know he has my support in whichever direction he takes for the order and that should he need me I will most likely be on Byss where my sanctuary resides.''

 

With that the kiffar began the journey back but not before picking up a few blocks of the Darkmetal as he had been told he could, they would play a vital part in what he had in store for his new weapons. After returning to the outside world just as he had been informed a faceless droid waited with a shuttlecraft.

 

Deciding to let the droid fly the craft the sith lord entered before instructing him to make the way to Vjun where he would retrieve the ship he had left behind, once there he would re-acquire it and make his way to Coruscant...he needed to check up on how his real ships modifications were doing among other things.

 

Slowly the ship ascended before leaving atmosphere for Vjun.

[Haphaestus]

Some time shortly after his removal from the title of Dark Lord, Haphaestus had returned to Almas. It was a place that was appropriate for him to spend some time away from the Sith Order, which had proven itself too short-sighted for his leadership. He was not bitter; that was an emotion he trimmed from his highly-organized mind at times such as this. Instead, he looked to the future, to see if there was anything left in this galaxy to do for a time.

 

It was possible that the galaxy was not yet ready for the return of the Alcazarins. Rivan had already waited millenia. Haphaestus had waited even longer, and he could continue to do so. He was immortal, after all, and the rest of the Sith Order would die and be replaced. On Almas, he could wait for the time when they were ready to be forged again into a weapon capable of destroying the Jedi Order. When that time came, he would be strong enough to keep the post--it shamed him that Quietus had been able to defeat him. But then, perhaps it was for the best. Although a dark sider bent the Force to his will whenever possible, it was undeniable that the Force had a will of its own, and sometimes, ultimately, that triumphed. How else had such things occured as the topple of the old Galactic Empire?

 

For now, Haphaestus bided his time, and he spent much of that time with Rivan. He didn't encounter the spirit of the ancient Sith Lord every day, but it wasn't uncommon for him to do so. Rivan had old lore that couldn't be learned from today's Sith, not even Nurgle. He had the most refined vision for what the Alcazarins were meant to be, and Haphaestus had chosen to embrace that philosophy just as Dominus had. For now, he was content to consider Rivan his Master, though, in the way of the Sith, that would not last forever.

 

Sith, Haphaestus thought. He wasn't sure if the term fit him still. Even as the Dark Lord he had considered himself something apart, something higher. Perhaps that made him unfit for the role. Or perhaps it made him better for it than any modern Sith.

 

For now, all these things were whispers in the wind, and Haphaestus had the discipline to silence all thoughts. Senses outstretched, he waited for the world to end.

[Sith X]

Home...

 

It was a loosely used term among beings such as Oni, for beings such as he held no such attachments. Always on the move, always on the go... whether to battle or into hiding, it was much like a nomadic life for they. But here, upon Almas, it rang different. Rivan, Nurgle, Haphaestus, Ki, they brought forth a similar meaning most mortals held in their hearts when they spoke of home. It was here where it all began, his family, his brethren, the Alcazarins. So even in his distant, darkened heart, he found joy in it's sight.

 

Rivan's influence ran as deep as it's core, like the blood pumping in and out the heart of mortals. Memories of this place and it's history remained within those who chose to remember. Nurgle's death, Dominus' rise, their gift as Alcazarins... only they could remember, but remember they would. And as the manned ship landed, a being emerged with a grin. He could feel his brother ahead, waiting patiently at home. He chuckled. Brother? Home? Oni could barely remember anything before his life with Nurgle and the Alcazarins. But still, a feeling of joy could still be felt at such knowledge. Whether he awaited Oni... that was a different story.

 

The blackened doors opened with a eerie creak as the cloaked figure stepped within. Oni removed the hood that adorned his head, his brown eyes gazing upon the fortress they themselves had forged so long ago. It seemed like only yesterday that he first began his path as an Alcazarin upon reaching this moment, and as he thought back, he firmly grasped the Darkmetal Battle Axe he had forged that day. He would not deny the sadness in his soul that Dominus no longer remained within the Galaxy, or at least that he could feel, but even then he remained prideful that at least he did. Rivan's dream would be fulfilled.

 

"Hello Haphaestus..." Oni spoke as he encountered his brother within the Fortresses' halls. "Long time, no see."

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus was not surprised when Oni arrived, for he had felt the being approach from light-years away through the bond that the Alcazarins shared with each other. In such a state as he was, nothing could really surprise him. He was... not exactly fully physical, but sort of stretched out through the Force, barely aware of his environment, his metal frame, but instead aware of the universe in a metaphysical, almost spiritual sense.

 

Oni's voice seemed to give him some way to ground himself, however, a silver cord connecting him to his body. Scrambling down that cord, Haphaestus found himself once again settling into the heavy weight of his body. He was again aware of the stone floor on which he sat, and he realized that he was in the darkmetal fortress on Almas. He checked his internal chrono and sensors to make sure everything was consistent, then rose to his feet, a figure shrouded in black cloak and silver mask turning to face his brother walking down the hallway.

 

"Greetings, Oni." The sound of his own voice grounded him completely, chasing away the ethereal, quasi-real aspects of Force meditation. "What brings you back to Almas, my friend?"

 

Oni, unlike Haphaestus, was not immortal, to his knowledge. It occured to Haphaestus that, while he had the luxury of time and waiting for the Sith to evolve to a point where he could control them, Oni had no such option. It would be interesting to see how driven the mortal would be to overcome the obstacle of being born too soon. For now, Haphaestus would observe. If, by some twist of fate or will of the Force, Oni somehow overcame that obstacle, perhaps Haphaestus would again join him.

[Sith X]

"We do, my old friend, in a manner of speaking." Oni spoke, the Alcazarin's tone though echoing of seriousness, carried a hint of excitement as well as dread. "The Galaxy is need of the Alcazarins, though this time, i believe in a more outward approach."

 

Oni gave a moment of pause as he found a spot to sit, crossing his legs in a meditation posture, and pulling the cloth sack from his hip and taking a small sip. He went to offer his brother one, but memories of their last chat entered his mind, and so he withdrew the sack and placed it beside him. Haphaestus seemed different since last they met, and he couldn't help but wonder the cause. Questions floated upon his mind, but they remained unasked as he spoke up once again.

 

"I believe Rivan wishes me to resurrect the Alcazarins once more, now that the Galaxy sits within chaos and disorder. I feel a burden within my soul to act, to release the Alcazarin within me and forge myself anew with the disease i conquered under my training with Nurgle."

 

Oni pauses once more to strike a cigarette, taking in a long drag, and exhaling as swirls of smoking dance upon the still air.

 

"I feel that through Rivan's teachings and my curse, we can relight the flame that fuels the Galaxy, and truly set ourselves free and realize Rivan and Dominus' shared dream."

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus held his gaze steady on Oni. This was not a man to wait for the galaxy to change. It was unfortunate that the galaxy did not seem to be ready for the Alcazarins just yet, but Haphaestus had been wrong before. If that were not the case, he would still be the Dark Lord of the Sith. He considered not telling Oni, but that would be a disservice to his brother and perhaps to Rivan. If one still had the will to press on, and perhaps make a move for the good of their brotherhood, who was Haphaestus to stop him?

 

Finally the cyborg spoke. "The Sith have failed me, brother," he said. "They have proven to me that their blind lust for power and passion for violence has made them incapable of following a higher will or engaging in a long-term plan. I do not think them worthy of Rivan's cause, nor willing to unite under any banner but each their own.

 

"I am beginning to think Rivan's move was too early, coming to Dominus. However, you seem to think that there is still hope for this generation," he continued. "I am interesting in hearing your plan and seeing you enact it, but my failure to control the Sith has made me a poor candidate for attempting to unite them again. It is possible that you will light the fire and I will find my way back into the fold, but for now, I will take an observer's post."

 

He would be here, of course, if Oni needed his counsel. He had known Dominus better than any other being, and he had encountered Rivan's spirit directly. To refuse his services to his brother would be folly, regardless of whether their opinions differed on whether the Sith could be redeemed.

[Sith X]

"Your failure was not in controlling the Sith, brother.." Oni spoke with a witty grin as he reached out and placed a hand upon Haphaestus. For in fact, in Oni's eyes, Haphaestus had far from failed. "The only thing you may have failed at was in believing that only Sith can be Alcazarin, something Trowa Barton should had proved to us in the beginning. In that, we all failed Rivan."

 

Oni's gaze did not leave his brother's, nor did his smile. Instead he showed Haphaestus a brief glimpse of his vision for the Alcazarins, beings similar to grey Jedi, walking a fine line between light and darkness, choosing no sides and accepting all. For any Force Sensitive could be Alcazarin, without the corruption of hunger for power and the wisdom the understand the knowledge behind their gift. That was what Oni believed the true purpose of the Alcazarins. Neither Jedi nor Sith. Only Alcazarin. He believed it was their time to rise as their own. For Oni was always a man known to seize the moment. And that's exactly what he intended to do.

 

"You see brother..." Oni spoke once again, turning and taking another drag from his cigarette. "We failed because we believed the rest of the Sith, just as we, could change and accept our gift. But we are no longer Sith ourselves, even though we hide behind such personnas. We are Alcazarins. A new belief, a new force with the Galaxy. It is time we separated ourselves and begin anew. For there is no loyalty to be found within our former brethren. We must make Rivan's dream into a reality, and only through our own, will we find it possible."

 

"I accept that you will not join me in this endeavor, brother, but i will see you the day we stand on the verge of our destiny. We will achieve Rivan's dream, even if i must do it alone with simply my own two hands. However, i do have one simple request, if it is in your power to do so. A technique Nurgle once used on me when i was under his tutelage. Can you grant me the knowledge of the skill of a Sith Lightning?"

 

Oni realized his request may seem to hinder some holding to the Order he was about to turn away from. But Oni found that it would be a useful tool to possess if he truly was to succeed.

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus considered Oni's proposition to begin to recruit Jedi. Rivan had been a Sith Lord in his day, but his mission had been one of unity and destroying the discord that had existed primarily between Sith. However, creating now an Order that was above both of them, one that experienced unity without the Jedi's narrow interpretation of the Force or the Sith's blind desire to grab as much power as possible, could introduce something that the galaxy had never before seen.

 

It was true that Haphaestus also sought power, but he had foresight and patience, unlike many Sith, who lived in the moment and greedily seized all the power they could possibly grab. He did not even consider himself bound to serving the dark side of the Force, as long as the long-term goal was complete and the Alcazarins were acknowledged as a power above the old Orders.

 

Finally the cyborg nodded. "You are correct," he said at last. "I shall teach you the ability. Then you must go and do this thing that you have proposed. I think, in time, I may join you. But my path ahead remains unclear for now."

 

Haphaestus moved to a position a few meters from Oni. "Sith Lightning is an embodiment of hate," he said simply. "I shall summon it. Observe me in the Force and attempt to mimic the technique."

 

He had been a master of Force Lightning even at an early stage. Nurgle had instilled him with the ability, empowered by crystals that were even now embedded in the lightsabers he kept concealed. He typically didn't use the energy blades, but neither did he forfeit items that could give him an advantage. Presently he reached out with the Force and thought of his anger with the Sith. They were shortsighted, greedy, and they were headed down a path to destruction because of it. They weren't worthy of Rivan's calling.

 

Instantly the white-blue tendrils of lightning leapt forth from his outstretched hand and danced around the room. He sustained the blast, not directing it at Oni but allowing it to go pretty much anywhere else at its whim.

[Sith X]

Oni said not a word as he nodded his head toward Haphaestus in response to his words. Instead he stepped back and allowed his brethren's presentation of the technique to speak to him. He marveled momentarily as the white and blue hue danced about the room, most striking upon the metallic floors and walls leaving behind scorch marks, yet a few finding a home within the darkmetal dome above them as it absorbed them. With a humble chuckle, Oni remembered back to their forging of it.

 

But now was the time for Oni to show his merit, to prove himself worthy of being called the former pupil of the Chaos God known as Nurgle, his brethren, his Master. Without little notion, Oni released his inner rage, his arm extended out as he concentrated on his hate for his former brethren, their greed and self righteousness. He allowed the Force to form to his will, burning inside with the anger he felt for his former kind. But as he released it from his palm, nothing came but a whirlwind of air and mediocre sparks. Confused, Oni focused himself again.

 

Oni was never one to simply display his hate, and even Haphaestus had surely found him odd at first. He seemed a jolly, overly out going fellow who simply enjoyed life as it was. And even despite his dark past as a Hutt Assassin and even before, his tutelage under Nurgle had livened him up. Many would see him incapable of possessing any large amount of hate. In fact, Oni may have even agreed. But Oni's most dangerous quality was in that very visage. For even Oni found himself unable to measure the hate he could possess and retain, able to brood and boil it, until he finally released it and let his enemies fall under it's spell.

 

So again, Oni attempted it. He found himself focused, Haphaestus' words echoing within his mind as he searched for what he needed to possess. His thoughts ran amuck, reliving his past as he searched for a moment within his existence to forge the hatred he needed. Deep within him, his power seeped over it's darkened core, the Force within him boiling as he found a memory to explore. Vjun.... Three years ago. Nurgle, Haphaestus, Exodus... Trowa! Oni's eyes opened, their brown irises glazed black with the Necrocirrohsis that coursed through his veins.

 

Now that was true hatred, for Oni had never been able to avenge their betrayal against Nurgle. Exodus and his strength. Oni had tried to strike the being, but found himself weak. Trowa and his cowardliness, for he ran before Oni could face him. Blackened Sparks began to crackle within his clenched fists, his fangs forming as his hatred only grew in their released. Oni found himself incapable to think, his head aching as his frontal bone began to reshape and reform, producing the image that Oni truly was, the demon within the man, the beast of Bogan himself, Nurgle's true Apprentice. And all Oni could see before himself as he stretched out his hands, were that of the two's betrayal playing out before his eyes.

 

And as Oni felt their release, his hatred and anger at their most powerful accumulation, blackened lightning flew forth from his palms only to explode before him and send his body flying backwards. Oni couldn't tell whether his brethren had been affected by his display as he found himself hard against a nearby wall, only that he hoped Haphaestus hadn't.

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus could feel Oni's transformation into his true form almost as clearly as if it were happening to him. The good nature that characterized this particular Alcazarin slipped away, squeezed into oblivion under the descending weight of utter, oppressive darkness. Following it into extinction was Oni's humanity as he forgot himself and embraced only his hate. It was a pure display of giving fully to the dark side, commanding the Force to obey, a refreshing reminder that, though the Alcazarins were higher than Sith, they were beings of darkness just the same.

 

Just before the lightning exploded forth, Haphaestus foresaw it, and he moved quickly to get out of the blast area. The resulting detonation was uncontrolled but ever so powerful, the strength of a demon channeling the true heat of its tormented soul, lashing out in its rage.

 

"Good," he said, his voice once again serving as an anchor back to the material world, a pathway out of the cloud of darkness that filled his mind at the display. "But you must learn control. As practitioners of the dark side, we wield the Force; it does not wield us. You let your hate build to madness before releasing it, but you must learn to push it through your body, becoming for it a lens that refines it into a focused power. You are a channeler of these dark arts."

 

He spoke with enough emphasis and a dark enough voice, his own dark power roiling through him, that he hoped it would encourage Oni to remain in demon form enough to see this stage of training through. The former Dark Lord knew not how much Oni still reigned over his consciousness, but he hoped it would be enough that he could still learn and refine his abilities instead of losing control entirely.

[Sith X]

"Forgive me brother..." Oni spoke as he rose from the floor, the Alcazarin using the Force to lift his entire form. "The Necrocirrhosis within me is difficult to control once i fully release myself to the Darkness."

 

Oni knew well the consequences of his disease, the level of corruption it brought. But he held plans of his own for such a disease, plans he could use to their benefit in the future. But even at the mutated level, fully releasing one's self was a still difficult task. It would take intense training, even to attempt the level of control Oni had possessed. But Oni had not expected his sudden loss of control, and after what just happened, found himself ready for one more attempt.

 

Again, Oni readied himself up, maintaining his demonic like form to openly access his hatred buried within. The Force within him boiled like the lava below them, strong and thick. Opening himself to his Alcazarin gift, he drew in the Force that surrounded them, absorbing it with every breath, focusing his mind and body upon that one moment in time. His eyes opened once more, his visage gnarled like a beast revealing within the ending moments of a hunt. And with a devilish grin upon his face, Oni released that which he held within.

 

Unlike Haphaestus' lightning, Oni's came outward within a blackened purple hue. Perhaps his disease was the cause of this, or Oni's own gifts gave it such a characteristic. But fly forth, it did, with Oni focusing his control over it just as Haphaestus had suggested. It's crackle was divine, it's strike deadly if Oni has chose to, and as it struck around them, it's dance was poetic. Oni had achieved what he sought, and as he released himself from action, he couldn't help but wonder if Nurgle had saw and felt pride that Apprentice had finally became what he envisioned.

 

"Thank you brother." Oni spoke finally. "I have but one last task to accomplish here, and i will be on my way. But this task, i must complete on my own. Thank you for your guidence. I will leave you be, and hopefully one day again see you by my side."

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus nodded, satisfied. Oni had learned quickly, but he had expected no less of his brother. Nurgle did not choose his apprentices arbitrarily, but indeed found those that possessed true potential and turned them into heightened beings through the fires of purification. Oni was a Master, his talent fully distilled, and now the signature Force lightning was unlocked to him.

 

"Go well, brother," Haphaestus said. "Though for now I shall remain here, do not hesitate to look to me in a time of need." For Haphaestus to fail to answer such a call would be to forsake the very meaning of being an Alcazarin. Although the Sith were not ready for Haphaestus' vision of what they needed to be, his vision could change and so could the Sith.

 

No matter how long it took, the galaxy had not seen the last of Haphaestus.

[Sith X]

"I shall not forget this brother..." Oni said, turning to walk away and leave Haphaestus to himself. "May you go well too. And when our paths cross again in the future, may we make our brethren proud."

 

With that, Oni finished turning and walked away. He had always held Haphaestus as more than a mere equal. Possibly even as an equal to his former Master, the Chaos God Nurgle. But never the less, Haphaestus had proven himself a great ally, and an even greater friend. This in it's self proved that they were more than Sith. But for now, Oni held his own task in hand. Looking down upon his recently gripped Battle Axe, Oni wondered silently to himself. So long ago he had forged this Darkmetal weapon, back as a newly risen Sith Lord. But so much had changed since those days, as did Oni. And if he had, he pondered had Riven's envisionment of Oni's path as well.

 

Oni found himself before the Door that all Alcazarins had stood before, even himself so long ago. And beside him, he gazed upon the switch where his own Darkmetal key, his weapon, would reveal the cavern below where all Alcazarin's forge their weapons. Placing it's handle into the switch, Oni sat upon the cold floor and devled himself into meditation. For if he was meant to change as an Alcazarin, as he had as a being of existence, then he would find his answers from Rivan just as he had once before.

 

"Rivan.." Oni spoke through the Force, letting his call echo upon the Bond that all Alcazarins shared, even Rivan himself. He called to his Lord, to his Master, letting his signature be it's beckon upon the netherworld. "I beseech then, my brethren, my Lord. Guide me in my hour of need, and show me the Alcazarin i am to be."

 

Soon Oni's own spirit had freed it's self from his body and Oni found himself sdtanding before Rivan. Bowing, Oni couldn't help but feel great joy that his Lord has chosen to answer his call, revealing himself to him as he had only done once before. He said not a word and showed a vision to Oni of masses of Alcazarins, freed amidst the Galaxy, an Order that stood above the two formers. But unlike before, as Oni has spoken, these were like he. Demonic Hunters, blessed with the gifts of the Alcazarins and weilders of great strength and speed. And this, Oni felt Rivan smile.

 

But at the head of this horde, stood one above the rest. Cloaked in spidersilk, Oni could not recognize him behind the mask of Darkmetal. And in his hand, Oni saw a Darkmetal staff forged to resemble the roots of the trees Nurgle had unleashed upon Oni during his tutelage. And atop this staff was an orb of pure Darkmetal, creating a weapon that no other Alcazarin had ever wielded before, one even Rivan himself seemed to be impressed by. And before Oni could question the identity of this being, Rivan pointed toward Oni before removing the mask from upon the Demonic face that was Oni's. Now Oni understood, and with a bow of his head, acknowledged Rivan's wishes.

 

Soon Oni returned to his body and stood before the now opened door. He knew the destiny Rivan had envisioned, and would produce it so that his brethren's beliefs would forever live on. Stepping in, Oni reveled within it, feeling the power that he would possess. He would truly embrace his demonic side and shape this Galaxy's newest Order just as Nurgle had before him. He vowed this with his life. Finding a place to sit, Oni looked on the door behind him shut. He would now forge the weapons Rivan forsaw for him, and with it, his destiny.

 

"When i am done, brother..." Oni spoke as he reached outward to Haphaestus, his hand now upon the Battle Axe he unlocked the door with. "Release me upon this Galaxy."

[Haphaestus]

In meditation as he was, Haphaestus felt Rivan appear to Oni as plain as day. It made him think things over once again, questioning if his decision to remain here was truly correct. Or perhaps Oni was to pave the way for his ultimate return, and Rivan knew that Oni would not be around forever. It meant that there was certainly work for the Alcazarins to do in the galaxy, but that perhaps it was not yet Haphaestus' time. He did not envy his brother's task, his faith shattered as it was.

 

But now Oni was creating something, deep within this hidden location. Just as the other Alcazarin held a picture of the object in his mind, Haphaestus could see it as well. Something much like Rivan's darkstaff of old, something more than the weapon that Haphaestus wielded. It was a powerful artifact of profound abilities, taking advantage of the demonic disease and infected and empowered Oni. Perhaps this, then, was how Rivan intended to make use of him.

 

So deep into meditation was his brother that he quickly lost track of his environment and, indeed, even his task. But Haphaestus watched it form, and soon, only a few hours after the task had begun (which was no time at all for a being who had waited thousands of years for his ascension to the Sith), it was complete.

 

"You are released, brother. Go with this artifact and see Rivan's will done."

[Sith X]

Orbs of heated Darkmetal danced around Oni as the Alcazarin poured every once of energy into the creation Rivan had envision, the heat from below being absorbed into Oni and poured into the leeching Darkmetal. Glowing a darkened orange, the shapes danced about, deforming and reforming as layer upon layer stitched themselves together at Oni's will. He imagined, and they did, until finally, seven glowing rods remained. Oni looked onward, still wearing the mask of his true form, the demon he truly was, until a smirk crossed his face.

 

Suddenly the rods collided before him, sparks flying forth from the collision. Creaks and moans echoed as the metal rods twisted and reformed around one another, one tip tied closely together until the provided a blunt tip, and the other ends stretching outward from one another. With a simple flick of the wrist, the orb within his satchel soon found it's home atop the newly created staff where it bonded permanently.

 

Soon the staff sat it's self aside as one last orb of Darkmetal flung from the wall and took shape.

 

This would be the Mask Oni saw in his vision, and without though, Oni went to work. It would a Mask unlike any before it, worthy of a Demon such as he, and fearful to all who gazed upon it. But more than that, it would represent Oni in a way none had ever before, not even as John Grimm existed before the coming of Darth Oni. And as it formed before the Alcazarin, he felt prideful that he would wear such a thing.

 

Hours had passed before Haphaestus called upon his brother, such detail and spirit going into the creations. But as the door opened once again, a new being emerged. Hidden behind the Mask, Oni stepped forth with his staff in hand, his Battle Axe destroyed in the forging of his new weapon. He gazed upon his brethren from behind the demonic mask and chuckled, bringing forth his staff and channeling his recently learnt Lightning through it as he struck a nearby wall. Blackened Lightning erupted, it's chackle echoing through-out the room as it struck.

 

"I will leave now Haph..." Oni spoke, his voice echoed by the Mask. "And when i return, we shall thrive once more."

[Haphaestus]

Oni emerged at least, masked and armed, fearsome as a Sith and yet much more dangerous. Haphaestus was too old to embrace such philosophies, but his organic self recognized the process of burning away the dross, cleaning away the entropy with the fires of Almas. Re-equipped with new items and powers, Oni was ready again to go out into the galaxy, to forge his path according to Rivan's will. He seemed supremely confident that he would make the way for the Alcazarins to rise to prominence, and Haphaestus respected that his brother had a strong enough will that there was a chance of success.

 

"Then go with the blessing of Rivan," he responded. "And with mine." Yes, he wanted Oni to succeed, even if it proved him wrong for sitting here, intent to do so for decades, centuries or millenia until the galaxy was ready for him. He certainly preferred for his brother to find success, and Rivan and Dominus both had invested in Oni. It would be a shame if they had done so in vain.

[Zutia Lavell]

When Zutia Lavell come to and the darkness of unconscious was replaced by the sight of millions of pinpricks of starlight puncturing the velvety black of an unfamiliar starfield, she had to fight the urge to panic. No one on this world—whatever planet it was, it definitely wasn’t Korriban—would know her name. It was a safe bet that no one would have any sympathy for her plight. And only the Force knew whether anyone on this planet would even be of the same species or even speak Basic. Willing herself to bite back a scream that would wake the dead, the Agamarian managed to keep quiet and keep her breath from quickening and alerting her captors.

 

For a while, she laid there, listening to the sounds of the wilderness, trying to take in her surroundings and gather information on where she had been dropped off. There was absolutely nothing. She seemed to be laying on sand or dust or barren soil, but there was no rustle of flora or calls of foraging animals. All she could hear was the forlorn howl of the wind and the clatter of unrooted soil being swept over the bare plains.

 

She finally trusted herself to rise from her supine position, running her fingers through the loose topsoil as she rose to her feet. The hunter took a fistful of it to smell, only for her hand to bounce off against a breath mask that had been placed over hear mouth and nose. The soil was dry and unusually fine, almost like grains of beach sand. Tracing a circle in the sand-soil with her feet as she surveyed her surroundings, she spotted the summit of a mount further up the slope. Judging from the ashen quality of the soil, Zutia surmised that there might have been a recent eruption—but even still, there would be surviving vegetation amongst the debris that had been uprooted by the ash and lava. Something would have survived.

 

Nothing was growing in this place. Judging by the meager light of the full moon, there was no surviving vegetation for kilometers around her. There was something unnatural about this land… toxic atmosphere… barren soil… and possible volcanic activity. What kind of planet was this?

 

Regardless of whether the Sith had sent her to this hellish place for instruction, she would need to find shelter soon. If hypothermia didn’t set in first, then dehydration would surely kill her. Further up the slope, her eyes could just barely discern a darker shape against the grey of the unnatural soil. No natural formation would generate a shadow of that shape--it had to be a building of some sort. Outside some freakish coincidence of a passing airspeeder happening upon her passage, that would be her only chance for shelter and communication to the outside galaxy. She would have to keep her movements slow and steady. If she moved too quickly, she would sweat against the chill of the night; too slowly and she wouldn’t make it before the heat of the day.

 

Almost tripping on her first step up the barren slope, Zutia smiled despite the fact that she had nearly planted her face in the dust. At least they had left behind her hat and her rifle. Shoving the wide-brimmed hat onto her head and returning the weapon to her shoulder, she began her trek up the slope.

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus stirred, his first motion in over a year. He had no biological dependencies, and he had ensured a steady flow of power into his internal systems. It was regrettable that he required any maintenance at all, but infinite renewable energy was mathematically impossible, and as alien and unprecedented his Force-wrought cyborg existence was, even he was still bound by the laws of the universe. But the fact that he stirred now was infinitely less important than why he had now stirred. Someone else had come to Almas, and to his part of the planet specifically. And the individual who had come was not Oni or Dominus or even Ki Vastor. It was a young woman, by her sense, and one practically brimming with Force potential. Her heart was not nearly as dark as Haphaestus might expect, given that she had been left here to die by what had clearly been a Sith. Perhaps they had found out that he was here after all. Perhaps she was intended to be a gift for him. More likely they just wanted her off their hands.

 

The former Dark Lord stood, dust flying off his cloak. A telekinetic notion later, the rest of the dust had dispersed as well. Another and his darkstaff flew to his hand from where it had been resting against the wall. Six feet of dense metal nearly two inches in diameter, it was far too heavy for most beings to wield. Yet with ease and grace he bore it as he disembarked from his study deep within the fortress that had once belonged to Rivan. He had intended to wait there for much longer than he had, but he could not have this newcomer discover him first. The gears in his head started turning--literally in this case--as he considered what he would do with her. It would be easy to simply kill her and let his resting place remain a secret. Then he could return to waiting for the Sith to reforge themselves, or perhaps for some new dark order to replace them.

 

But truth be told, his biological mind had grown bored. For millenia he had existed, but then he had not been compelled to act. Simply put, he had not found waiting to be as easy as it had been before. This woman, whoever she was, might at the very least provide a distraction. Depending on how receptive she was, she might just have the mettle to make a suitable apprentice. Perhaps she could be the one to bear on Rivan's goals in the galaxy until such a time as Haphaestus made his slow and inevitable way back onto the scene.

 

Not just anyone was suitable to being Haphaestus' apprentice, however. Under his tutelage, all but the strongest would simply die, and their instruction would be a waste of time. Before he stepped forward and made an investment, she would have to prove herself worthy. And her trials began now.

 

Sitting down again, this time just inside the fortress doors, Haphaestus reached out with his mind. He quickly found a pack of Dark Tongues, large dark side-corrupted lizards that were an off-shoot of the Hssiss and could be found on this world. They were fearsome beasts, and he would expect the pack to kill the woman without much of a fight. But he reached into one of their minds and seized it, compelling it to break away from the pack. He gave it a new scent to follow, the one of humanity. Soon, the off-worlder would realize just how inhospitable Almas could be.

[Zutia Lavell]

Onward Zutia climbed up the sandy slope, occasionally dropping to one knee to scoop up a handful of the dusty soil and let the wind scatter it away. It was consistently blowing into her face, with the strongest gusts wafting up clouds of silt into her eyes and mouth. The tower—the huntress was now certain that the structure in the distance was a manmade formation, rather than a freakishly misshapen outcropping of rock—was looming closer, perhaps an hour away. Barring some catastrophic accident like a tumble down the precarious slope or a sandstorm, Zutia was going to make it to shelter.

 

Pausing again to rest again, Zutia took a moment to glance up at the stars. Part of the horizon was starting to turn grey. Daylight was approaching, and with it the heat of an unfamiliar star. Worse, the star would probably rise just behind the tower in the distance, rendering her blind for the rest of the journey. The wind began to die down again, and with it the shifting silt of these barren slopes. Zutia was about to rise to her feet and get moving again when she realized that she could still discern the hiss of the shifting soil. Something was following her.

 

She took aim towards the now absent sound and peered through sights of her rifle. For what felt like an eternity, she stared into the scope of her rifle, searching for any trace of movement or an irregular shape against the slope. There had to be something out there, some predator desperate enough to track her through this wasteland and cunning enough to restrict its movements while the wind obscured the rustle of the silt displaced by its hunt. Zutia continued scanning the horizon, eventually spotting a set of white glints against the shadows of the barren plain. A shot of adrenaline coursed into her blood—those could only belong to the claws of some enormous beast. Operating on instinct, Zutia adjusted her aim, guessing where the head of this predator might be—

 

--And for a fraction of a second, her eye stared directly into the burning red iris of the monster.

 

That waste of time nearly killed her. The eye blurred as the creature leapt into motion. Startled, Zutia slapped the trigger of her rifle too strongly and her shot went astray, but she got her first good look at the beast, a three-meter long mass of black scales, spines, and a far larger set of teeth than any hunter wanted to become acquainted with alone during the night. The beast was unbelievably fast—what was a reptile doing hunting during a night this cold, anyway?—and Zutia had to make her next shot without the magnification of her rifle’s scope.

 

Too late—the beast leaped for her and the bolt, instead of striking it just behind its left eye, glanced off of its flank. There was an awful, world-consuming roar of bloodlust—Zutia staggered back and fell against the slope.

 

That mistake ended up saving her life for the next two seconds. Somehow managing to keep hold of her hunting rifle as the dragon flew over her supine body, Zutia began to roll back down the slope. Faster than even she had feared, the beast wheeled around and managed to snare her ankle with its slathering tongue. Her descent suddenly halting, Zutia felt a horrible stab of pain shoot up her leg as the disgusting muscle coiled around her foot.

 

No time to worry about that—no time at all, for the beast was already on top of her. The pressure on her ankle slackening, Zutia got a good glimpse of a set of ravenous, scimitar-like teeth and a mouth filled with murky saliva. No time to line up the shot—the hunted simply thrust out her arms and jammed her rifle between the rows of teeth just before they clamped shut to tear out her throat. The weapon jerked back as the black maw bit down and tore it from her grasp, throwing it a few meters back up the slope. Left with no other options, the Agamarian’s hands shot for her final defense, a simple vibroknife at her belt.

 

She stabbed it up to the hilt in the beast’s neck.

 

Gouts of black blood jetted out as the beast let out a deafening shriek. Zutia struggled to just hold onto the blade, letting the dragon tear out its own throat as its death throes caused the ultrasonic weapon to rip further through its neck and tendons. Still screaming, the beast blindly lashed out at its prey, pounding Zutia’s head into the dust and slashing her face with two enormous claws. Crying out in pain and anger, the Agamarian took firm grip of her weapon with both hands and carved the vibroknife directly across its throat.

 

Whether slashing its jugular had felled the creature or shock had finally set in, the monster collapsed on top of her, still dripping its foul blood over her front.

 

Not noticing the tainted fluids that were continuing to spurt out of the beast’s neck, Zutia lay under its collapsed bulk and just breathed, trying to come back to sapient rationality. It took longer than she would have liked. Zutia’s right ankle was almost certainly broken. The slash to her face… it didn't seem too deep and a fortuitous glance to the side had saved her left eye from being blinded, but the entire left side of her face was starting to go numb. Venom? If the great lizard’s claws her poisoned, she might not have much time left.

 

Cursing, the Agamarian shoved the carcass off of her body. With all of her experience hunting great beasts in the wild and daring the odds by confronting them in their own domains, Zutia had always imagined that she might meet her end in this manner—but that would have been on her own terms, hunting for recreation or bringing in an exotic trophy for a collector. That was the way the wild worked—kill or be killed, survival of the fittest. But here, on this Force-forsaken planet, on these blasted sloped, disposed of like a fighting hound in the arena pit—that was not the way that she wanted to die. If she was going to die here, she was going to die fighting, cursing the bastards who had abducted her and tossed her away like an ugly trinket.

 

Crawling back up the slope, Zutia retrieved her rifle and used it to haul her battered body back to its full height, using the weapon as an improvised crutch.

 

And she set off again, clumsily, moving as quickly as she could with her wounded ankle. The numbness was spreading. Growling encouragements to herself, she kept up her pace, until either she reached that shelter in the distance…

 

Or, of course, another one of those dragons showed up and finished her off.

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus felt Zutia's pain radiate through the Force and he soaked it in. She had handled herself well for an uninitiated. To be able to kill a dark side dragon was no small feat. She was already exhibiting many of the traits he sought in an apprentice--a strong will and a penchant for survival. That tremendous willpower, when focused on the right goals, would make her powerful. But it could also be an obstacle. If he was going to rebuild her, first she would need to break. He considered sending another dragon just to see how she responded when death was certain, only to pull her out of the fire before death could truly claim her, but he decided to take another path.

 

For now, he waited for her to get closer to the fortress, slowly limping her way to him unknowing of what she would find. He could feel her growing weaker, more numb. Her tenacity to even make it this far did her credit.

 

Finally, when she was perhaps fifty meters off, Haphaestus threw open the hidden doors of the fortress and made his way briskly toward her, a silent figure shrouded in a cloak and a metallic mask and bearing a tall black staff. There was little doubt that she would spot him, but he doubted she would attempt to challenge him in her current state. He continued to stride purposefully forward until she was perhaps ten meters away, then made a thrusting motion with his staff accompanied with a telekinetic thrust with the Force, slamming her already-weakened body down against the sandy Almas soil. He closed an invisible Force grip around her throat and pinned her to the ground, intending to hold her there and deny her air until she fell unconscious.

[Zutia Lavell]

Seeing the shadowy figure charge out of the monolith, Zutia gave out an incoherent shout of relief, a sort of mix of laughter and crying towards the heavens. She was prepared to beg the stranger for the shelter of the tower and protection from the inhospitable wilds surrounding it, as well as medical assistance for the venom that had robbed her of feeling in her face and most of her body. It wasn’t until she was forced back by that unseen push—more like a wrecking ball—that it occurred to her that figure might have belonged to a Sith.

 

Zutia tumbled backward, scattering dust over the plain and losing her grip on the barrel of hunting rifle. Her back slammed against the ground, knocking the wind out of her. Already broken by her encounter with the corrupted dragon, Zutia’s right ankle simply refused to support her weight of her body when she tried to recover. Then her throat clenched up, and her breath, which had earlier seemed unnaturally loud in her own ears, was placed by complete silence. But she refused to lie there with that invisible boot pinning her to the ground. Grasping the hilt of her bloodstained knife, she lined up the tip of the blade with her assailant’s face. Not even sure if she would have been able to manage to accurately throw the knife at the best of times, her aim wavered and her arm began to shake, until the hand finally collapsed to the barren silt.

 

She stared into those burning eyes, those hateful orange-red irises, trying to summon up the strength to do… anything to relinquish the unseen grip on her throat. Finally, as her chest began to heave uncontrollably in a last-ditch attempt to draw breath and her world dimmed, she began to beg for mercy.

 

“Please… please…” Her lips tried to form those words, but her throat was so closed up that she couldn’t even muster up the wind to properly plead for mercy. Eventually her muscles slackened and her world went dark, only illuminated by the glowing eyes of the Sith Lord. Just before she lost consciousness, the only thought that came to mind was that she never wanted to die like this, not without a proper struggle.

 

Not… like… this…

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus said nothing and waited until she had fallen unconscious, then released his grip on her. The pleading had been a little unexpected, but it wouldn't hurt her to know that he had held her life in his hands and decided to spare it. He had to walk a fine line in these early interactions. She needed to have a proper fear and respect of him in order to learn what he had to teach her. She needed to know what it meant to wield the dark side, and such strong and primal emotions would make her powerful. On the other hand, his longer-term goal was not to create a slave. That end might be suitable for a Sith, but Haphaestus was much more.

 

The Alcazarin stooped and lifted the woman's unconscious body and carried her inside. The fortress was pragmatic and sparsely furnished, as Haphaestus had no use for luxuries. He found a stone table and laid her upon it, taking her weapons and relocating them to a second room. He bound her hands behind her back, then scanned her to determine the extent of her injuries. He had some basic medical supplies on hand, but nothing specialized. There was a bacta tank in the cloning facility that they might use if, say, Darth Oni fell in battle. Had he been the only one to use this fortress, he might not have had even that much, so she was fortunate. While she was still unconscious, he cleaned and applied a bacta salve to the slashes on her face, then set her broken ankle and put a splint on it. His knowledge of human physiology was advanced, though typically he used it for devising better ways to kill them.

 

Soon he was more or less ready for her to awaken. He considered attempting to humiliate her by removing her clothing, only to see how it affected the way she conversed with him, but decided it went beyond his purposes. Perhaps the pretreatment would give away his game anyway. He would let her wonder.

 

Now he stood over her, and with a nudge in the Force, he awakened her. "You will tell me why you are here."

[Zutia Lavell]

Zutia woke with a shudder and her eyes flickered open, her disbelief at the fact that she still lived giving way to the horror of being confronted by the same individual who had nearly killed her earlier. She shrank away from his imposing figure, pushing her body away with her feet. The motion didn’t really accomplish much of anything, aside from banging her head against the stony wall and reminding her of the fact that the broken ankle of her right prosthetic still required repair.

 

She tried to guess at his motives at keeping her alive. Had she been kept bound on this tablet for sadistic purposes, or merely professional? The Sith had had plenty of opportunities to finish her off or satisfy more depraved urges.

 

Zutia stared into the Sith’s burning eyes, her understanding of how vulnerable she was at this moment perfectly evident. Defiance wasn’t going to do her any good now—her only hope laid in cooperation. “I went to Korriban to look for the Sith. But I don’t even know where I am now. My pilot knocked me out halfway through my flight—for all I know, I don’t even know if I’m on the same planet.”

[Haphaestus]

((I guess not noticing the prosthetics is what I get for not reading your character sheet very closely.))

 

That was just about enough to prove Haphaestus' theory correct. The Sith for whatever reason hadn't wanted this one and had tossed her near his suspected coordinates to see what he would do with her. He personally didn't see why they had rejected her. The prosthetics of her legs wouldn't slow her down. Her Force potential was obvious. Currently she seemed very submissive, but she was playing for survival. It was practical. Haphaestus then checked his assumptions. He was assuming that she had gone looking for the Sith for training, and that they had known that. It was quite possible that she was some CoreSec agent or ally of the Jedi that had gone looking for other reasons. Or maybe the Sith had merely thought that she was.

 

"You are on Almas," he intoned. "Why were you looking for the Sith?"

 

The crucial question, it seemed. The one that would shape the conversation from here. He began to touch her mind in the Force, trying to dig around a bit. See if he could dredge up some extra information about her. At the very least to make sure she wasn't lying to him, although she seemed too intelligent to attempt such a thing. Unless she thought the chances of the truth getting her killed were greater than the chances of him detecting a lie.