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The Helvault -- Nespis VIII


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During the entire trip back to the ship, Solus’ body continued to twitch and spasm over and over, like a person possessed. With draining power cells, and spastic thoughts, it would be a miricle if Solus could accomplish anything else. 


“dne eht reven si dne eht reven si dne eht reven si dne eht reven si dne eht…” over and over solus repeated, unaware of his surroundings or even himself. Wherever he was, he certainly was not in the shuttle. 


When the shuttle did finally dock with the ship, the first person to greet the group was the young sith alchemist simply only known as Stitch-Mouth. An odd being to say the least, this sorcerer of the Fanged God looked unsurprised at the entire group.  Instead he bowed silently to the group, the best form of respect the silent alchemist could offer. 


Being the designated mechanic for the Shard, Stitch-Mouth stepped to the imposing chair that held both Nok and Solus and set down a large handheld generator. Stitch-Mouth glanced at Nok and nodded in respect, before starting his work. Waving a severely burnt hand, several wires unwrapped themselves from the generator and floated towards the shard’s chassis. 


Even as Solus continued to twitch randomly, Stitch-Mouth didn’t stop. Once the wires were close to the body, the alchemist produced a small remote from his cloak and pressed the button. Instantly, the Shard’s body became lifeless. Now still, the chassis was primed for a recharge, and with no connection to the outside world, Solus’ brain could fully process whatever nightmare he was suffering. 


Not much later, Stitch-Mouth unplugged the power cables and pressed the remote again. As the Chassis whirred to life, Stitch-Mouth re-hid the remote, not wanting his project to know about the security feature. Bowing to Nok and then to the others, he slipped away, back to his studies and other projects. 


Solus on the other hand, was much more talkative. 


“Well well well!” He exclaimed, bending upwards into a sitting position. Glancing over, he nearly jumped back in surprise from the being who was commanding the chair he was riding. 


“Ah! You must be one of the people we were sent to save! Very nice, very nice, and might i say, impressive work. Did you make this? Ah, now i see why everyone was so eager to rescue you amongst the others” 


At this, Solus patted the chair beneath him and stood up, looking at the others. 


“ Looks like our mission was a success! Haha, my mission must have been a success yes? Of course it was. I remember clearly poisoning all those simple skin-sacs of lizards and their caretaker. Haha, yes yes, very good.  I remember the rush of power, the return of the impossible geometries, the...”


Solus paused as he seemed to remember something, then shook himself.


"Yes, a successful mission. Very good" Solus clapped his hands together at this, then did a double-take at the group. 


“Ah, i see our resident necromancer is missing? Did he finally bite the blaster, so to speak? Is Innmortos no longer immortal?  Bah, who am i kidding, that crawling corpse could probably survive anything, he probably is looking for a new corpse to inhabit.” 


Solus turned, jumped off the chair and bowed to everyone, one hand at his chest and one hand behind him, unable to read the room clearly. 


“To you who we have rescued, I am Solus the Dragon. Do not let my size nor my eagerness fool you, for it was I who gave you your access to the Force again. I look forward to working with you as we step forward into a new Sith aeon. "

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The voice of Inmortos cracked as his hissed whispers of pain radiated outward on the billowing plumes of purple-black smoke. It filled the room. It carried into the halls and recesses unhindered by the vortex of space as it clawed like a feral cat through the station. Every word, ancient and powerful, uttered to bind the spirit world and fray the edges between mortal and immortal. The undead all about him were soon dissolved to dust, their very essence becoming that of the growing torrents of smoke.


The prison station itself continued in it’s preprogrammed decent towards the vacant world below. Its rotation increasing in speed as it passed a point where initial dampeners and high tech braking systems failed. The artificial gravity generators were the next to fail. The entire station shook, final death throws as it plunged towards it’s inevitable destruction. Final system reports and scans, prisoner rosters and security reports, were broadcast into the cosmos. The highest levels of encryption protected the broadcasts. They were even more scrambled by the foreign code that played havoc on the station.


Inside, death did not need to wait. The door had been opened by the Sith rescue team. Death was invited in the open door, summoned by the gods of chaos. Once inside, it gorged itself on the entrapped spirits of the deceased and the dying, violent and visceral, throughout the station. The raw emotions of the freed tortured beings fed into growing darkness.


Inmortos hands wove through the smoke carving long-lost runes in the amorphous air. They glowed for a moment and then were absorbed alongside the haunting whispering chants. Bits of flesh freeze-dried in the smoke and fell from Inmortos heavy hands and head. His robe fluttered in the smoke, aging and fraying in moments what would have taken decades of unaffected wear. In moments where there had been a hulking body of an undead Vurk chanting and weaving the spirits of the undead into the smoke of the mortal world, there stood a ragged rotting body, muscles and sinews and bones visible through the rotting frozen scales skin. Flaking off, the bits of Inmortos were absorbed by the smoke, tying the necromancer’s own mortal form to his spell.


Through the yard, the smoke ate away at the existence of any that still lived. Throughout the station the life force of any that remained was tugged upon; drawn closer and closer to the flickering veiled doorway of the eternal. Anyone who was injured stood no chance. They were enveloped in a black mist, their screams vanishing as surely as their bodies until nothing was left but soot that blew down the windswept halls.


Klaxons screamed all over the ship. Warnings for those that remained that their destruction was imminent. The mechanized voice encouraged anyone who could to strap themselves in to do so, immediately. Anyone who could not was warned to brace for impact. It would not matter. The impact would be lethal. It was designed to be so.


Inmortos’ body continued to fail, his skeleton becoming clearly visible beneath the dissolving gases. Organs tumbled in a bloody mess from their nestled positions within the ancient Jedi structure. Foul smoke filled their spaces, gnawing hungrily at the shell of mortality. Inmortos raised his hands towards the ceiling. His head rolled back on his neck, no linger able to support the heavy sloped skull of the saurian. He screamed. Oh how he screamed. His voice, amplified by the force, rang through the station and beyond. It was pain, pure agony. The spirits reached out from the great void greedy to grab ahold of something tangible. Every invisible clawed hand pulled the very spirit of the necromancer out of his mortal coil, drawing him into the eternal void.  


Fluids and fuels began to spill from their containers, their vacuum-sealed ports released; explosives designed to flood the station. Elsewhere, crates of blaster compressed tibanna gas tumbled free from their bindings alongside other supplies thrown by the centrifugal power of the plummeting station.


And finally, Inmortos voice fell silent. A rift in the force, silent and empty followed it’s wake, as the spirits of the dead, spirits from across the known and unknown cosmos dissolved the last of his vocal cords. The necromancers body fell, hilted and awkward as his bones and what remained of his robes clattered to the floor. The smoke swirled and the spirits whispered, screamed in the minds of any who still struggled to survive, thrown against the bulkheads by the force of the plummeting station as it burned through the atmosphere.


Flames trailed from the station. Without a shield, it’s hull became superheated. Armored panels were flung free of the twisting station. Fire clawed inward to do battle with the frigid spirit-filled smoke. It was destruction at it’s purest form. The freezing smoke erupted. The flames raced through the station, a literal fire that transcended the mortal plane burning hot enough to dissolve bodies and durasteel; glowing with such intensity it pierced the realms of the spiritual. The flames consumed the spirits ensnared within, casting their meager immortal shadows eons into the great veiled beyond.


The storm of ethereal power crackled as it was consumed by the flames. Within the smoke, the skeletal form slowly began to stand. The spirit of Inmortos, still bound to the bones, overcame the limitations of death. Standing, the necromancer pulled his ragged robe about his shoulders. His vacant eye sockets blindly scanned the smoke as the first signs of the immortal flame began to pierce the thickest billows of smoke that poured from the maw of the necromancer; his words transformed into the pure undead magics of death as they flowed freely from one realm to another. The flames raced towards Inmortos, engulfing the necromancer, shrouding him from the world beyond. They were held at bay by the frigid powers of the dark lord, for the moment.


The station continued to gain speed as it streaked an inky trail of midnight black interspersed with flashes of flaming orange and yellow and frigid billowing purple across the sky. Death lived, even thrived, within the station. It was fully enthralled as the bridge between the living and the dead was torn open, the stopper pulled for a moment allowing raw emotions and spiritual apparitions to manifest where they might never do so again; not without a catalyst.


And a short time later the flaming station slammed into the forested ground. Within, the immortal flames crossed from the mortal into the immortal, overwhelming Inmortos frigid persona, consuming him. The bones were burnt to dust. The dust was consumed and swept into the eternal void. The presence of Inmortos was swept from the galaxy, cast into void beyond as a huge fireball engulfed the station. The forests shook for miles in every direction blasting trees downwards in an outward angle. The plume of purple fire climbed high into the sky etching an ancient runic symbol of death and eternity into the air itself above the world. It was visible from horizon to horizon. Then it was gone from view, its eternal magics burned not into just the air, but the cosmos beyond, the stars it shrouded. Forest fires began to rage, tracing outwards into the untouched wilds of the world.


A flaming crater sat at the impact point, driven deep and wife into the crust of the world. Pieces of twisted jagged metal rained downward for miles. At the impact site, there was nothing left. All of it had been blown free from the force of the station’s detonation. Nothing was left. There was nothing organic, even most of the metals had been turned into dust and ash as it wafted through the air.

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To say that Akheron was not happy with his apprentice would be a understatement. Even despite his success, he had been too reckless and dabbled where he shouldn't almost costing them the successful completion of their task. His Anger and Wrath radiated outwards, directed towards him...he wanted him to feel it, to know how disappointed he was at the actions he had taken.


And more, this time he would not escape punishment. For the second time he would suffer, albeit not physically given where they were currently. Instead the Sith Warrior focused within the Darkness, and directed it at his apprentice. Striking at his mind, the deepest parts of it at least in a effort to inflict uncontrollable shaking fear that would wreak havoc at least temporarily. Through pure force of will Akheron would cause his apprentice to lose his courage completely and would rapidly demoralize his apprentice with a feeling of hopelessness and regret. Depending on his will, it would cause his wayward apprentice to either cower defenselessly or flee. Although there was nowhere to run and hide.


He spoke, his anger evident in his voice.


 "That you may have done my apprentice, but your reckless actions in undertaking the task almost cost us everything. You dabbled in forces you cannot comprehend, running before you could walk and almost cost us Lord Mavanger and Krath Inmortos who had to help contain some powerful illusion you unleashed. For this you now suffer and shall not escape punishment, you shall learn even if I must break you. This is not the last you have heard of this either...we shall discuss it more when on our way to Ziost. Feel now the fear and horror of your actions. Do not disappoint me again."


(Next post will be in space briefly) 




 "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

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