Korriban

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Pain, Agony...both were known to Lucifer well. His whole life the kiffar had endured it from both his father and then throughout his life experiences, however this pain was different...it was more pure, more sterile.

 

The moment his master's sword struck and he was thrown Lucifer knew his true training had begun. Answering in reply Lucifer spoke out, igniting the sabre he had so recently been given as he rose up completely undeterred, his mind was on one thought, upon his target as his robotic eye latched onto several areas of his master's body, highlighting exposed zones which were vulnerable to attack.

 

''So be it my master, I shall prove myself worthy and not become just another corpse to lay here.''

 

Within moments the kiffar breathed in the air around him, the very essence of the darkside, empowering himself. Within those few moments Lucifer felt the wound begin to seal itself...it seemed the toxin could only be overcome by the darkside itself. Instantly setting to work Lucifer put into action years of Teras Kasi training honed by a lifetime of fighting as he flung dust into his master's eyes the irritation of the sand would only slow him down temporily but it would be enough for now, it acted as a diversion tactic as he rolled behind to attempt a double cut at the back of his master's knees fueled by the darkside and a life of hate and contempt for the galaxy. The kiffar would not be stopped or give in he was better than that and he knew it, the sands of Korriban would not claim him as a victim nor would his master, he would do all which was necessary.

 

Within moments of his first attack Lucifer proceeded to follow it up with another swift bombardment, focusing within the darkside he remembered what his master had taught him at Krayiss II and used that knowledge to his advantage. Pushing out with his mind the kiffar began to visualize his target and of forcing him away from consciousness. Of generating a force push that would be pwoerful enough to throw his master into the sand before them. Pouring himself into the darkside and the darkside into him Lucifer applied more power until the tipping point was reached...all the while he kept enough that he would have enough energy left for more such attcks. At that moment he unleashed the Force Push, focusing it towards his target, sending him and all manner of debris across into the Korriban sands a short distance from his reach remaing wary and keeping an eye on his master as chaos subsided. Lucifer knew that the man was far stronger than he in the force but he also knew when compared to the force strength mattered little in comparison, it was limitless. The kiffar charged towards his master while he was still upon the ground taking the advantage he darted at him before jumping above and spiralled downwards towards him in a figure of 8...a twisting tornado of death, he would prove to his master he was worthy at all costs.

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

The elder Sith was caught off guard by the deceptive strike that had been unleashed upon him by Lucifer. DMD barely had time to throw up his guard at the last minute. The result was that he was hit with an unusually powerful force push that lifted him off of his feet, tossing him a few feet from where he previously stood.

 

Using the momentum of the attack that struck him, he turned his forced landing into a graceful shoulder roll that left him kneeling in the sand. HE couldn't help but smile beneath his helmet. He could see the wound he inflicted upon his apprentice, still leaking the crimson fluid that was the key to life.

 

Desperation and fear had created a drive in his apprentice that fed the dark side energy within him.

 

DMD could feel Lucifer's power increase through the bond they shared and by the demonstration of aggression being demonstrated. Without hesitation, Lucifer pressed his attack. This time, the elder Sith was prepared. Using the force, he managed to catch his apprentice in mid-air, a few feet in front himself.

 

Reading the expression on Lucifer's face, he could tell this had been a move that had not been anticipated. DMD's left hand was outstretched, as though he were physically holding his target in the air, a byproduct of muscle memory. He had learned long ago how to channel the force without the aid of gesturing or using his limbs as channeling rods. For the sake of training, he used his hands so that his apprentice would be aware of his movements.

 

DMD lowered his outstretched arm while slowly closing the fingers of his hand, allowing Lucifer to fall to the ground. The young man began to gasp as he was desperately trying to take a breath. Invisible hands had taken hold of his throat and were squeezing his windpipe, cutting off his air supply.

 

"Flash and style are no substitute for tact and cold blooded resolve. That is the Jedi way. We fight not to protect or preserve peace, but to enforce our will and dominance over the weak or all those deemed beneath us."

 

Releasing his hold on the younger Sith's throat, he turned his back to him. DMD was fully aware of the risks of underestimating an opponent, but he needed to test the heir to his legacy fully.

 

"You are humiliated. Your life's blood soaks the sands at your feet. Give up. Fall to your knees and beg me for a merciful death, so we can be done with this embaressment of your feeble skills. Or, come and claim the title you so eagerly wish to have bestowed upon you. "Show me your power and resolve or prepare yourself for afterlife!" He shouted over his shoulder, as he closed his eyes and opened himself to his growing anger, anticipating Lucifer's failure.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer grew irritated...his master had humiliated him, left him in the dirt, rediculed him...no he would show him, he would be worthy of his legacy.

 

The kiffar's anger grew, as he got up it began to build further, Lucifer began to think upon his target, letting the darkside take hold his hatred for his father, the galaxy and his being humiliated began to fuel the darkside within the kiffar. Something awoke within, something dorment that awakened. Lucifer began focusing on his master...of reaching into his mind and making him remember what power feels like, what it was like to relive the worst memories of his life over and over again.

 

The kiffar never noticed what had happened as he kept his eyes and mind transfixed on the man before him...he saw the expression on his master's face. Something was going on mentally, it was as if Lucifer was reaching into his mind, forcing him to relive all the worst memories of the life he had led, the most painful ones, memories which made him wish he were dead. Over and over and over again the memories replayed themselves as Lucifer fed them forcing his master to relive the moments to the point where it seemed to cause physical pain, a crushing upon his chest and every bone.

 

It was then Lucifer realised what was happening that he was manipulating the thoughts, taking from his master's past and making him relive the events as a form of torture of the mind....true power fueled by the darkside....an ancient technique rarely seen Torture By Chagrin or a Memory Walk as known by some.

 

Lucifer spoke as he forced the visions to continue,

 

''I shall claim the title I deserve, I am not as some weak minded fool...here is my power master, feel it.''

 

Lucifer moved forward while his master was weakened, the kiffar noticed how his master smiled at seeing his apprentice with such rage this simply made him focus more, the darkside was being used in so brutal a manner, the thoughts that replayed were causing considerable pain to the sith master. The kiffar charged forward before rolling left slicing along his master's right hip as he passed by.

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

Images began to bombard his mind. Bad things. Flashes from the past. He could see himself crucified in the throne room, in the Sith temple. The Dark Lady of Sith, Jgod standing by him holding his own sword, ready to behead him. In the background, he could see all those he spurned as he clawed his way from the bottom, to being one of the Sith high lords he once idolized. And then he felt heat against his neck. The heat was followed by the loss of the abiltiy to speak as his world began to spin. The cieling became the wall and the walls became the floor. As the darkness gradually enveloped his vision, he realized that he was bearing witness to his severed head falling from the stump of his neck. He wanted to scream out and curse those that stood by but he found no voice. The face of the Empress became large, larger than normal vision should allow. Her face was distorted into a devilish grin, that tore at the edges of her mouth, as she laughed and taughted him, as blood ran down her face.

 

The pain. It used to be as an echo, but now seemed more present. The smell of burned flesh flooded his nostrils. The images quickly faded and his eyes opened to the skies above Korriban. He had instinctively moved away from the percieved direction of attack. The pain in his hip, brought the hard reality of the real world tumbling back. A fury burned inside of him. His vision was red. He had murder on his mind and in his heart.

 

Lucifer was a few feet awat from where DMD had retreated to. Fueled by the reminder of his past foolish acts and the betrayal he suffered at the hands of a loved one, he had found a ready reservior of dark side energy to draw from. The power flowed through him freely and unhibited.

 

Moving at speeds to fast for the eye to percieve, he was face to face with his apprentice. Lucifer swung his lightsaber with remarkable skill for one not fully trained in Sith combat. If not for the force and years of combat trianing, the younger Sith would have surely cleaved him in half. DMD side stepped the attack, grabbing Lucifer's wrist and pulling his arm back, applying pressure to his elbow. DMD pulled the lightsaber from his apprentice's hand, after twisting it free due to the pain from the arm bar. Lucifer spun his body around, performing a forward flip, alleviating the pain in his arm.

 

A powerful kick that could have doubled him over and ruptured his kidney, found its' mark in DMD's midsection. Although he felt the blow, he absorbed the pain and added it to the reservior of dark side power he had at his command. He twisted the arm the opposite direction while pushing his apprentice's palm toward his elbow. DMD delivered a kick of his own, connecting solidly across the back of the younger Sith with a loud thud. Lucifer's lightsaber blade was plunged into the flesh of it's wielder. The crimson blade was buried to the hilt, a few inches from the ball and socket joint in his shoulder.

 

DMD turned off the power switch on the saber's hilt, throwing it into the sands. With a single hand, DMD had lifted Lucifer off the ground into the air by the throat. Lucifer desperate to avoid his incoming doom, through wold attacks to try and free himself from his master's steely grip. One attack struck DMD on his nose, causing blood to spill. DMD didn't respond to the blow. He just stood motionless, like a statue, though increasing the pressuse of his hold on Lucifer's throat.

 

"Lucifer. Hear my words. You are at the brink of death. Look on me and see the redish aura that surrounds my form. What you see is the dark side as manifested through my connection to it. You must use the force to draw upon the darkness. Pull it into yourself and use the power to give you strength. This technique is known as draining. Make my power your own and overcome your present situation." He said through gritted teeth.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer heard his masters words as he attempted to break free from his grasp...hearing what he said and listening as the grip tightened and the pain from the sabre that had been imbedded into his flesh the kiffar set to work instantaneously.

 

Looking at his master he could see the red like mist that surrounded him, the darkside was made a visible form manifested by as his master had said his connection. Thinking on it as the pain increased Lucifer focused within the force and upon his master, of using his power to fuel his own and in affect drain him of some of it to replenish his own strength. Streching one arm out he latched forward with what seemed like a invisble thread linking the two sith before the connnection became visible much like the manifested mist that followed his master, it seemed to glow a dark red that within moments began a kind of usctioning motion...feeding from his master weakening him, the kiffar felt hismelf slowly regaining his strength, the drain was working and as such would force his master to release his grip when eventually the drain would take it's toll on him, an opportune moment to strike when the time came but for now he would bide his time.

 

When his master began to feel the drain he felt slightly whoozy while Lucifer felt himself heal. With the drain affecting him Mortis would find he could not maintain the grip and release the kiffar just as he had been waiting for...at that moment Lucifer struck with a vengeance unmatched. As soon as the grip was released the kiffar rolled for his sabre picking it up in a instant to ignite it before his master had time to recover, the attack was well timed and accurate. Taking the iniative and jumping a flip over his master the kiffar struck his sabre through the right arm imbedding it to the hilt repaying the favor his master had paid him, an eye for an eye was the thought before he pulled it back out and stepped back to unleash a devastating Force Scream...one of the few techniques one of Lucifer's former masters had taught him to enact and which he was perfecting every time he used it, the echo was loud and sent debris and all manner of objects towards his masters direction all the while forcing the man's eardrums to pop until blood poured from his ears...the maximum pressure met, Lucifer only hoped his master was proud of him when he smashed his hilt into the man's nose hard, he was sure he heard the familiar sound of a broken bone as it struck not that it mattered since by the time his amster had realised the fact the kiffar was already moving two steps ahead in thoughts of how to overcome such an adversary.

 

Focusing his hate and malice Lucifer charged for Mortis before sweeping a feign for his left foot only to instead trip the right he only hoped his master had not noticed the switch until too late.

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

DMD watched the actions of young Lucifer as though he were standing outside himself. Everything from the ringing in his ears, to the cauterized hole in his shoulder, were lost upon his senses. Almost like it was happening to someone else. His hands seemed paler than normal and his eyes were shifting from emerald green, to that eerie shade of yellow associated with Sith pupils.

 

The power! It had to be the power. He had read about the effects of prolongued exposure to pure darkside energy. To draw on it to much, too deeply, is to invite the power to consume you completely.

 

A closer look at himself, was begining to confirm his fears. As the flow of power increased, time slowed to a crawl. He could see infinity and all it's possibilities. His mind searched frantically for a solution. His thoughts went to Lucifer. Was it possible that he had succumbed to blood rage? Had he given himself over to the primal killer instincts of the ancient Sith Warriors from which he adopted his fighting style?

 

Too many questions and not enough time. His apprentice had intent in his eyes. The intent of bloody murder. This was expected behavior for a Sith. To be killed by your apprentice or vice-versa was tradition. It was the way you ensured the strong would rightfully preserve the Sith heritage and the power to embody it.

 

"My talisman!" He said, unaware if it was mentally projected or spoken words.

 

Years ago on the planet Yavin IV, while searching for Sith artifacts, DMD discovered an ancient talisman. The talisman gave it's possesser the abiltity to channel and store a finite amount of darkside power. This was beneficial to him due to his fears of having his physical self consumed by the destructive force.

 

From the outside looking in he could see the medallion, white hot hanging around his neck. The aura of the force around had became less candy apple red and more dark red, like blood. He could feel his power. The spirits of long dead Sith were drawn to his display, circling the battle area of the beach. Their decayed forms watching and waiting for an opportunity to possess him. To once again feel blood running through their veins. They began to howl and scream. The power was too great for even them to consume. Such power was weilded by one who could destroy their hollowed souls.

 

Korriban itself was feeding him power. It occured to him that he had never wore the talisman in a place so rich in the dark side.

 

The muscles in his well formed arms were becoming leaner than he was accustomed to. His fingers appeared boney. There wasn't much time left. He knew what needed to be done.

 

Stepping back inside himself, he summoned the storms. The skies above darkened with heavy gray clouds. A low rumble could be heard in the distance. Flashes of light, illuminated the clouds in random areas. A bolt of lightening struck the water, filling the area with the smell of electrified air.

 

Time was still moving slow for him. Grains of sand where drawn to him, as well as small rocks and shells discarded by long dead sealife. DMD's body rose into the air, as he drew more power into himself. His body rose higher as the rain began to fall in large, heavy drops. Time ceased to slow and stopped completely. Pushing outward and upward with every ounce of his being, from every cell in his body, he released the energy. Red lightening surged all round him, crackling from his fingertips to his toes. The red lightening shot up into the clouds, piercing the sky, leaving a hole in the dark clouds. Gusts of wind surged beneath him drawing the power upward into an upside down funnel.

 

When the last burst of energy left his body, everything became calm and quiet. Then he heard someoneone screaming. He thought that it was more of the Sith spirits manifesting themselves, but there were none in sight. Lucifer lay on the ground beneath him, begining to recover from the effects of the surge. The sound he heard was himself screaming in pain.

 

He fell to the ground, as a leaf falls from a tree. His feet settled into the sand as he steadied himself. His apprentice stood across from him with his weapon poised for attack. DMD gestured for him to lower his weapon. Wearily Lucifer obeyed his master's unspoken command.

 

"You...you have proven yourself, my apprentice. You have survived a fight you knew you couldn't win. And you never held back. I expect nothing less from a true Sith."

 

"We came here to seek out an artifact that will increase your powers ten fold. This valley leads to the resting place of Darth Bane. Within his tomb is a fabled sword believed to have been weilded by numerous Dark Lords of Sith." He said with labored breath.

 

"This is my gift to you. But you must seek it alone. Go forth and retrieve you prize. When and if you return, I will bestow upon you the mantle of Sith Lord."

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer set to work instantly as soon as the strange occurence before him had subsided, the kiffar listened carefully before beginning his journey....he walked towards the tomb his head held high, a slight evil demonic smile across his face at the thought of finally being able to achieve the power he sought...to be treated the way he was meant to be, as a Sith Lord he would be free to do as he wished, how he wanted and truly be free of his chains...from a certain point of view. He walked along the desert sand for what seemed liked a few miles. a few grains finding thier way into his boot until he arrived at the entrance. Lucifer though on it taking in the vastness, the power of the place and the darkside that seemed to eminate from it before making the first steps inside not knowing what awaited him but somehow knowing he would make it through...it was his destiny to succeed. The kiffar looked around finding two ways to choose from picking the left he cautiosuly walked down before he found his first obstacle what seemed like a pile of bodies sprung to life...un-natural...walking dead. The kiffar as if by some kind of innate natural reaction he took the sabre that he had been gifted with when above Krayiss II by his master igniting the hilt he found he seemed to wield it just as naturally as he had during that battle like he had done it before although the concept was new to him, pushing outwards the kiffar concentrated on two targets launching them backwards to stumble into two more behind them in the narrow corridor of the tomb.

 

Out of reaction to the situation Lucifer followed this up by flinging a piece of rubble into the group of shambling corpses taking aim and throwing it from the cover he had taken to hiding behind momentarily until it reached straight into the first of his opponent's it met with explosive results as guts spilled onto the floor, clearly the kiffar had thrown it with some force like a large skipping stone. Bits of gut, debris and dust were sent into the air before landing in several directions, the kiffar on the other hand had moved the moment the projectile had taken flight and smashed into the animated corpse...focusing Lucifer used his athletic speed to increase his atatck power as he used his sabre and was within moments mere inches from the rest of the group. As one of the undead launched a swipe at his flesh Lucifer removed his arm and shoved him back slicing his head off with the blade before reversing his grip and his hilt slicing directly through the soft flesh and into the brain of one of the remaining 11 undead ending it's short existance. Lucifer thought on how many remained two down...11 keeping track he rolled out of the line of fire as another lurged, he seemed to out of instinct grab another with his bare hand crushing the things skull...it seemed Lucifer had a knack for survival.

 

Lucifer took his hilt and thrust at another impaling the gut before ripping upwards...he cast his thought's while he focused to confronting his remaining prey. Nine remained...it seemed the kiffar was gifted that much was certain, the speed at which he dispatched the walking corpses was un-naturally fast even for a apprentice. When switching stance as he held the two sabre it seemed he was more gifted than he had realised, it was like he knew just what to do. Running forwards Lucifer dived into one of the other corridors forcing the undead to funnel through the door one at a time, bottlenecked providing the kiffar with the advantage he was waiting for. While the moving dead tried to locate him Lucifer jumped back through another hallway which doubled back to hhis previous position as three of the dead struggled forward hitting the wall and barely missing him leaving marks in the wall from the scratches as he rolled towards them, using one as a leverage Lucifer jumped onto the top of it slicing through before jumping behind it, spinning round 360 degrees he cut through the other two like butter the iniative was his....only six were left to contend with...a pile of bodies lay at his feet and more were to come, the kiffar was just getting warmed up.

 

Lucifer proceeded to use a combination of the force and sabre play as he focused within the darkside, the very essence of feeling it....it seemed he could naturally focus into the force and switch it on and off at will almost, it was becoming abvious he was no ordinary apprentice, something was dormant within him...had he been there, it was enough to make his master never doubt he had made the right choice in choosing Lucifer. It mattered not to the kiffar as he continued his work, he let loose a whirlwind as he span into six in a tornado of sorts, a blur of sabre, nothing but charred remains were left as the vicious attack subsided. Conserving his energy Lucifer pushed the advantage, as a undead swiped a lunge past his head he dodged the second the zombie attempted kicking him into the closest to the monster before impaling both through the head and turning them back into a powerless, lifeless husk leaving just three to dispose of an easy task for what seemed to be a experienced warrior. Charging forward the kiffar zig zagged to avoid further assaults before flipping and cutting another in two as he performed a downwards inverted cut leaving him just two more to cut to ribbons. Taking cover Lucifer briefly recovered his breath before moving out flanking the two animated corpses he came upon...sneaking up behind them from the left smashing his fist through the back of one he used his right hand sabre to slice horizontal through the remaining last droid before spinning around 360 degrees next to them in aid to cut them in two at the torso...making sure they were out of commision permanently as he removed his hand and stamped on their heads to be sure they were lifeless as they were gone for good.

 

Once the dead were dealt with and after making sure the coast was clear Lucifer advanced further forward into the tomb. It was more ruin and rubble, the walls were lined with hyroglypics of sorts and seemed to have been created on what was once been a nexus of sorts...for Lucifer felt the darkside within and the feeling like he was being watched. From the looks of it time ahd taken it's toll and it had declined to the point of being covered in cobwebs and other things. Regardless thekiffar moved only stopping for a brief moment he stretched his senses out into the force in effort to locate the weapon he wished him to locate, his master had tasked him with finding...the sithsword that would mark a new step in his journey along the sith...no lonegr would he be a apprentice but a sith lord, a equal in the eyes of his master. Stretching outwards he found that a slight tinge of the darkside edged him northbound...towards what appeared to be a former innner chamber with rubble lining every passage. Entering the area Lucifer had a feeling crawl up his spine, the type of feeling that usually warned of danger. His suspicions were confirmed when he found three arrow walls rise from the ground and begin firing upon him forcing him to duck into the nearest available side passage via diving through a small broken peice of wall to avoid contact with the continous arrow barrage and fire that seemed to come from them, a ancient trap of some sort. Thinking on his toes Lucifer tossed a piece of rubble he found inside the other side of the wall, a broken chair with one leg missing into the line of fire distracting the arrows while he focused in the force and popped his head up to pull one of the traps...ripping it from it's placement he pulled then pushed and flung it along the ground like some kind of high speed bowling ball towards the other two hitting them both with a accurately aimed strike and disabling them allowing him free passage to the next area further along.

 

As Lucifer got further inside he could feel the darkside growing stronger...he must have been getting close to the sword he had sensed before. Within moments of that thought more undead and this time wraiths of some kind converged from several hidden ports throughout the area seeming to converge upon Lucifer's position however he was not one to be deterred by what he viewed as some un-natural freaks of nature. Picking up three pieces of rubble simalteneously Lucifer tossed them at three of the undead knocking them to the floor as he proceeded to run up and slice along the ground where they stood chopping them vertically, destroying them as the others tried to locate which direction the rubble had came from since the kiffar had taken to moving within cover...using his surroundings to obscure the remaining undead and wraiths...simple misdirection, deception a technique which worked well in such a contained area, an essential technique for any would be warrior...for all war was based on deception and Lucifer thrived in such situations, the droids were in his element now. Waiting Lucifer patiently watched from a small hole in the wall he was hidden behind, keeping an eye on the three that remained one undead and two wraiths he watched their patrol pattern before he struck. Holding both sabres and hugging the wall the kiffar waited until all three were directly on the other side of the wall before jumping over the top of it catching them off guard as he struck his sabre straight through the centre of one before quickly removing it and spinning his left to cut diagonally across the remaining two only to find they would not die, inacting a force scream he found it weakened them and allowed him to strike which he did so quickly before runing into another trap a pitfall into a logn deep abyss of nothingess...no he would not die today and to that affect he jumped over in a running jump as the trap activated letting the ground beneath fall. Lucifer moved forward cautiously as he amde it across until he came upon what he was looking for in a grand burial chamber within which was much debris, rubble and a large sarcophagus at the centre beside a pedestal upon which the sword was sat. Lucifer knew looks could be decieving and so he edged carefully next to it before making a grab for it pulling it off, he jumped sharply out of the way within a pinch as his suspicions were proved right when 4 wraiths came out of the ground forcing Lucifer to do battle, using the sword Lucifer looked prepared. Launching upwards the kiffar jumped behind one before using the force concentrating he applied pressure until he could take no more releasing a large visible ripple within the force that launched them backwards at speed and crushed the strange wraiths into nothing but mangled bones to throw them at speed into the other two crushing them behind them before a lunge was even attempted...his job was done now all he had to do was make it back out alive.

 

Focusing Lucifer stretched out his senses to locate the exit redirecting him the way he had come in as he attached the sword to the side of his belt...somehow he knew the way as he advanced...backstepping until after a few hours of much the same he exited the vast tomb, alive and his task done. Strolling the few miles back to where his master stood Lucifer presented himself, kneeling before his master while holding the sword he spoke,

 

''My master I have done what you have asked...here is the sword you requested I retrieve, I have come back to claim that which you have promised me. I feel the sword's power it is like no other I have ever encountered before.''

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

DMD could sense Lucifer's approach before he could see him. There was an unmistakable feeling that he had been quickened; his force signature had increased. The man who left as an apprentice had returned with the desire in his heart to be made whole. A Sith. And as promised, he was going to get his due reward.

 

Young Lucifer had a strange look in his eye, that the elder Sith percieved as cockiness, but he later credited it to pride. He came forward and kneeled before DMD with the sword held out as if it were a trophy, but more of a symbol of his accomplishemt.

 

DMD grabbed the hilt of the sword, measuring it's weight and balance; immediately sensing the power and its' connection to the Sith of old. He drove the sword into the sand, blade first, but deep enough so that it stood erect on its' own.

 

kneeling in front of his former apprentice, he grabbed both of Lucifer's hands and placed them on both sides of the blade. DMD cupped his hands over Lucifer's applying pressure with his steely grip. Lucifer's blood ran slowly from the gashes forming on the palms of his hands.

 

'This is your weapon now. This is the bond that will bind its' power to yours for how ever long you choose to weild it." DMD said, noticing the pain in his apprentic's eyes.

 

"This weapon...this sword, is a symbol of your lineage and your connection to the older ways."

 

"Lucifer, you came here as my apprentice. But today, you have risen above being my student or an underling. The dark side has bestowed great power to you." DMD released his hold over Luicfer's hand, allowing him to remove his hands from the sharpness of the ancient blade.

 

"Rise and claim your title, Darth Lucifer!"

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer let a evil grin grip his lip as his master knelt in front of his former apprentice, proceeding to grab both of the kiffar's hands and place them on both sides of the blade. DMD cupped his hands over Lucifer's applying pressure with his steely grip. Lucifer's blood ran slowly from the gashes forming on the palms of his hands but he was not deterred by the sight gritting his teeth he took the pain and used it as strength while listening to the words his master spoke.

 

'This is your weapon now. This is the bond that will bind its' power to yours for how ever long you choose to wield it." DMD said, Lucifer took note of this...of the bond, he felt it pulsating through his veins...the sword and he were linked like two halves to a coin until the day he chose to gift it as his master had done to him.

 

The kiffar continued to listen as the pain increased,

 

"This weapon...this sword, is a symbol of your lineage and your connection to the older ways."

 

"Lucifer, you came here as my apprentice. But today, you have risen above being my student or an underling. The dark side has bestowed great power to you." DMD released his hold over the kiffars hand, allowing him to remove his hands from the sharpness of the ancient blade which his master had forced his hands upon.

 

"Rise and claim your title, Darth Lucifer!"

 

was what he said and at that statement Lucifer's eyes lit up like they had never done...finally he had claimed his birthright and proven himself worthy before his master as an equal somewhat, one journey had ended another had begun. The kiffar stood up with pride in his eyes and a willingness to do whatever was necessary for the next step, he knew more would be asked of him now than had ever been asked before but for now he would need to concentrate on increasing his power...he could feel his connection had deepened but he needed the ability to back it up, for that he needed more holocrons...more training that was where the next challenge would lie, if he were to truly become a god he would need to train harder than ever he had done, now was his time to sow the seeds and reap unholy war against all who opposed the sith.

 

With his former master Lucifer had already made a choice, even if their paths took them another route he would always remember what he was taught by him and follow him should he need the kiffar's help, he would be but a com unit away. Taking the sword Lucifer placed it upon his belt, it was strangely lightweight despite the size, looking to his former master the kiffar spoke.

 

''So what is the next step wherever you shall go I shall follow for as long as I am needed, you have shown me much...given me a power I could never have fathomed had I not joined the sith and given me back my birthright if ever I am needed you shall have my sword but as for the time being as with all sith I must continue my quest for power, I must locate more holocrons and pass on the knowledge you have bestowed upon me wherever it may take me although I am certain our path shall cross again but for now I must seclude myself to learning if you have need of me I shall be on Byss, the very place where I built my first sabre and where I shall continue my learning for Byss is where the darkside calls me too.''

 

The kiffar looked into his former masters eyes letting him know the words were truth, Lucifer knew he would not take the words lightly for loyalty was a very rare and valueble commidity to be used with care...if his former master were smart he would accept such an offer. Once he was sure his former master had accepted Lucifer headed outwards to locate transport to Byss which he found not a few miles to the north...a smuggler's freighter which seemed to have stopped off to raid the tombs only to have it's crew mutilated by the Dark Lord's who owned them leaving the ship for him to claim...despite where he went the bond the two shared would forever let them know if the other needed help at any point.

 

Entering the ship a a battered-looking YT-1300 transport the newly titled kiffar sith lord headed for his new destination inputting the jump co-ordinates and ascending to the darkness of space before leaving his former master to his own ship and hoping someday the two would battle alongside one another again, for during his short tenure under Darth Mortis Diabolus the kiffar had learnt much of the darkside and of the force...for that he would forever be indebted to him for showing him true power and how to wield it.

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

There are some things in life that are certain. You are born into this world alone, and when you die, you leave this world alone. These words echoed in DMD's skull. He was never one for attachment, but he could feel himself drifting away from the world and from himself. In truth, having his apprentice gave him a reason to go out into the world and face it. For many years, he confined himself to the cold pursuit of power. He had abandoned everything and everyone during his personal quest for power. And he had achieved it. He had power. Enough to rival any who would dare challenge him, but he was still incomplete. Something was lacking.

 

This feeling or sense of longing, made DMD feel somewhat flawed. Such feeling were useless to him. No matter how many times he attempted to purge himself, that same feeling would always return. It was time for a change.

 

His mind returned to the event that took place during his fight with Darth Lucifer. Somehow, his body had absorbed the latent dark side energies. His physical form was not used to holding such an abundantly potent power and purged itself. The discharge nearly destroyed his body. His apprentice was equally lucky to have survived being in such close proximity to the discharge.

 

Thinking back, DMD found the power terrifying and exhilerating at the same time. His mind could not fathom wielding a power of that magnitude, because he never believed such power was attainable. But it was, to him at least. He would learn to control it. Train his body to harness it and contain it.

 

"The teacher is never to old to learn something new. But a wise man knows that he truely knows nothing at all." DMD thought to himself, thinking back to standing on the beach watching his apprentice venture forth toward his destiny.

 

He sat down in the sand and began the process that would make him a legend among Sith.

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

A month had passed since he began his journey on the path to what he percieved as ultimate power. He had not moved, eaten or slept since he intially sat down. Subconsciously he had fallen into a meditative state, that slowed his vitals down enough that he could survive on the reserves of fat his body or any other nutirents that could be sacrificed. Since there was no actual food, the notions of having to relieve himself of bodily waste was easliy remedied. There was no waste. There was only him.

 

The weather offered no break from his misery. Storms rolled in from across the ocean and they were constant. With the storms came the wind. Strong winds, that threatened to blow him over from the spot where he rooted himself. Wind carried the sands. Sometimes blew the sands acorss the beach with such force, the small grains stung as they collided with the Sith's solitary form. Sand was everywhere, be it all over his body or trying to invade his nasal cavities. Sand was a conductor. When it was hot, the sand bruned like fire and when it was cold, it chilled to the bone.

 

The attire he arrived in, had become tattered and riddled in holes. His once muscular physique was now reduced to a lean, almost skelatal form.

The weeks of direct sunlight from the suns that hung over head, gave his skin a leathery, almost reptilian look.

 

The nights were the worst. That was when they come. They meaning the dozens of Sith spirits that roam the landscapes searching for weak souls to possess or devour. Everynight they were drawn to DMD. His body was like a beacon of dark side power.

 

It always started the same way. In his ears, the sounds of the ocean were constant. When the spirits drew near, the world would go silent. The sounds of the world were replaced with the shrieks and howls of the long dead, as they fought there way into the realm of the living from the other side. They would circle him, calling out to him with the promises of power and knowledge. When he didn't answer they assaulted him, leaving bloody scratches all over him. He was subjected to this treatment night after night. The spirits would leave angry, cursing hima nd vowing to return for him the next night.

 

DMD's mediatation had given him the tools he needed to survive. Be it the will of the force or a voice from the dark side itself, he had learned build himself enternally. His body was literally a temple and as long as he stayed inside, keeping his mental self strong, the spirits could not harm him. His physical self was too weak to handle so many dark spirits and would easily be taken over or destroyed.

 

Their time was coming. DMD was getting stronger. He was absorbing the dark side energies that were so abundant on Korriban. The same energy that nourished his staving soul and sustained him. The mystery or science behind the Sith art of Mask, was almost his. He had figured out how to perfect it, in ways no other Sith had done prior.

 

Just a little while longer...my time is coming........

[darth shadowlord]

Soon after landing, Draken proceeded from his ship into the valley of the Dark Lords. He walked slowly through the valley, his crystal staff in hand humming softly with harnessed power emanating from the planet. It was good to feel the power of the planet where so many lords came from, but he had come for only one reason. He turned to the south and headed about a half a mile deeper into the valley till he reached the tomb of Markos Ragnos. There he paused to check the area, he could feel no human or any other humanoid around the temple and within a mile of the area. Once he was sure he was alone, he slipped into the shadows of the temple and ghosted his way past the wild beasts and mutations that thrived of of the darkside before he got to the burial chamber of Ragnos. Setting himself down to the floor, he placed the staff across his knees and resting his hands on it he began to meditate and re-purify himself in the searing current of the Darkside.

[Darth Furion]

For what felt like ages, the shadow had laid in wait. Standing here in the valley of the Dark Lords, it was so easy to be a shadow, eclipsed by memories of titanic power. He stood here, waited here for any soul to trespass so that he may deliver a simple message. When the day finally came, and the long empty skies of Korriban broke open with the screams of engines, only then did the shadow stir. The mark had quickly ushered itself into the long empty tombs, though of which this particular one belonged was a trivial detail to this shadow. Let the dead be dead, only their recorded wisdom held meaning anymore. Down the long, winding valley and across a small span of desert the shadow crept, quickly down into the halls of the tomb. Who awaited him did not matter, nor their possible inclination of violence. Life was long removed, only purpose remained. The man sat kneeling, willing the atrophied darkness into vitality.

 

"Sith..." The shadow hissed from the dark corner of the tomb. "I bear a message from your Dark Lord."

[darth shadowlord]

Almost instantly after the voice spoke a ball of lightning burst to life and hovered a short distance above the ground. "Does he now? Your master is well informed if he is aware of my return from the infinite currents already. Perhaps you had best tell me who your master is and what he wants and stop disturbing my meditation." Draken's tone was civil and precise which to those who didn't know him extremely well would seem that nothing was wrong. However to those that knew him very well it was a clear indication that the person he was talking to was walking on very thin ice. The top of the staff slowly began to glow and pulsate with internal lightning.

[Darth Furion]

The shadow didn't waver, didn't stir with fear or anger. His existence was for but one thing. To deliver the message.

 

"I was commanded simply to wait for any who bore the monicker Sith, my lord. Dark Lord Furion calls his brothers to the Maw."

[darth shadowlord]

"Indeed and did your master see fit to provide directions through that hellhole that the Maw is. Otherwise your master may feel free to throw himself from an airlock and yourself along with him.

[Darth Furion]

"I am the directions." The shadow said as he pulled out a knife from its sheath. Without hesitation the blade ran across its neck, blood quickly flowing through the wide gash and down his throat like a slow cascade. The shadow fell to his knees, and as life began to slip away from him, countless walls encasing his mind, supported and empowered through his very life's essence, began to collapse, and free thought spilled into the dark chamber. Whispers echoed in short phrases, each with a different voice from a different direction, all lingering for but a moment. With the last thud of the shadow's heart, the Sith knew the very place in the convoluted maze that was the Maw where the Dark Lord would be waiting.

[darth shadowlord]

"Impressive Furion, most impressive." With those words he turned and headed back to the ship. Once at the ship he left Korriban and headed for the Maw.

[ObliviousKnight]

Messenger droids were valuable tools for conducting clandestine correspondence, but they were very rarely utilized for obvious reasons. Throughout the civilized galaxy, access to the Galactic Holonet was so stable that there was little need for a physical courier unless the message was sensitive in the extreme or the correspondent was especially paranoid. And really, although the droids were basically just disposable hyperspace-capable engines bolted onto a small cargo capsule, the fact that the machines were essentially suicide couriers made the expense of using them impractical.

 

This one, a gunmetal cylindrical affair roughly the size of a small child, shot out of hyperspace and dove through the planet’s atmosphere. It ceased its unpowered descent about a hundred meters from the surface at the walls of the Sith Temple, when it activated a matrix of repulsorlifts to slow its fall before it reduced itself to debris on the surface.

 

Anyone who approached it would activate a holographic message of Armiena Draygo. The woman would be sitting on her knees, hands placed patiently on her hips, staring directly into the recipient of the message. Although the woman appeared somewhat weary, as though she had recently gone through a terrible ordeal, she otherwise looked healthy and focused.

 

“Hi.” The figure’s eyes flickered to the side and her brow furrowed, as though Armiena was just realizing what a lame introduction that must have been. “The message and contents contained within this messenger pod are reserved for the Dark Lord Julio Furion and can be unlocked by simultaneous retinal scan and voice analysis. Any attempts to tamper with this pod will cause it to self-destruct. Scan the pod if you like; it doesn’t contain any tracking bugs, poisons, weapons, or any warhead of a payload beyond what is needed to incinerate its cargo. If Furion is not present, please deliver it to him. Farewell.”

 

With a nod of her black-shod head, the image of Armiena Draygo would fade.

[Skyshatter]

Darkness...

 

It was the void which filled his heart as he stood before the Valley of the Sith Lords, the emptiness which steadily plagued his soul as he searched for answers. It had been nearly three years since he awoke from his coma, his former life lost to the blank pages of his memory. He held no knowledge of who he was, where he came from, nor of his possessions which seemed to be his only link. And this twas what had led him to this place from where he first began, as if calling upon him from another plane of existence, yearning for his presence. His weight shifted upon the crumbling specks of sand as he marched forward toward a dust filled towering tomb, the wind echoing across the canyon like Valley as if the spirits bound to this place raised their voices in welcoming... perhaps even in shunning. He couldn't tell. Yet as his gazed turned upward toward the towering figures which stood on each side of it's entrance, he felt that this wasn't the first time he had been here before. Tossing aside his gear within the entrance, Sanguine took shelter within. Tired as he was, it did not take long for sleep to take hold.

 

Destruction...

 

Was the images in which he dreamt, of an unknown world, it's future uncertain, it's fate unknown. To him, it was as watching from a Godly view, able to see all and yet unable to interfere. Screams of pain and terror cried out, tormented souls yearning of an unattainable peace as their lives were torn from them without cause or remorse. The beings were of unnatural natures, reveling in their doings as they purged the life from this planet. Maniacal were these beasts who invaded this unknowing world, and yet, it's defenders were as helpless as he was, watching them fall one by one to the overwhelming might of these otherworldly invaders. He felt anger, rage, hate. It dwelt within him as if second nature, unable to unleash it's self to aid in what he saw before him. Helpless, unable to do anything, he simple watched and brewed. He knew not what he saw, only that he wished to end it. And in that split second, he saw...

 

Despair...

 

It was what he felt as he gazed upon a familiar face unknowing of who she was. Tangled within this war, she fought with a blade of light that shown vibrantly within the consuming darkness. Her blond hair echoed of her blade's golden hue as she charged forward in her assault, her faith unwavering in the fact that she would survive, her determination relentless that she would kill every last one of them. And for that, he admired her. Her prowess as a warrior was uncanny, her skill unmatched. And as her silver haired companion joined her, they became a force to be reckoned with. Her skill with a blade, his might with his gun.... many fell at their hands as their march continued on. Yet, it didn't go any farther, a stray missile finding a well placed landing very near to them. An explosion engulfed them as well, claiming all that they were and leaving nothing. And all he could do was continue to watch, his words screaming, yet silenced by his own mind.

 

"Brother.... Sister.."

 

Emotions running too great to be withheld, he awoke, tears still streaming down his face. Who were these people he had dreamt of? What was it he had said? Why did he cry for these strangers? These were questions he had asked himself many times before.

[Darth Furion]

Where the hell is it?

 

The Master cursed inwardly as he tossed aside a large chuck of rock with a vulgar display of power. Three days now he had been on this desolate planet looking for 'something' for the Dark Lord.

 

::You will know it when you see it. Furion had said behind his desk, hands clasped behind him as his head tilted from side to side staring at or into something the other Sith couldn't see.

 

'Yes, Master, but what am I looking for? An artifact? A holochron? Some baby Jedi pissing himself in the corner of some dark tomb wishing he was back in the library?' Oh, how he wished for some blood. All this waiting was eating him alive.

 

The Dark Lord only offered a soft smile at the warrior's eagerness. I cannot say for certain. There is something whispering to me from Korriban. Strands of fate and time tugging at me for attention.

 

'Probably some old ghost trying to get back in the game. Ya'know? Pull someone powerful down there to take over their body and get to live again. I've heard of it before.'

 

I do not operate on probably, Master Vray. Something is on that planet and I want you to find it.::

 

And who was he to deny the Dark Lord? The warrior had seen and heard of some of Furion's exploits, and wanted not one piece of that. Hell, the man was rumored to be able to completely rip apart a mind as easily as unwrapping a birthday present, and put it back again anyway he wanted. Memories, knowledge, skills could be lost in the twinkling of an eye and you wouldn't even know you had been effected. What if Vray had argued with Furion, even said that he refused this mission outright, and the Dark Lord simply turned the idea over in his mind that he would do it anyway and forget about the arguement? No, for now it was best to follow this Dark Lord's instruction, as frivolous as they may seem to be. At least until another came along and stabbed him in the back. Maybe the next Dark Lord would be someone less terrifying to work with.

 

"GOD-DAMN IT!" He yelled at the top of his lungs as he tore through more rock. There was nothing here, absolutely nothing in this decrepit tomb. Thousands of years of excavations had stolen anything that could possibly be of any use. What was the point? And even if there was something here, there would be no way he could feel it out through the Force. The whole planet exuded a terribly dark wound, while simultaneously felt as if it were constantly spiraling downward, waning in the power and presence it had held so long ago. Nothing here but depression and desolation....

 

Oh, hello....

 

Depression, desolation, and a lost lamb in the desert. What was he doing here? The presence was undeniable, someone else was here in this tomb with him, but where? Was he armed? Oh, how Vray wish he was a sour, violent type of grave robber.

 

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeey! Can anyone hear me?" He shouted at the top of his lungs, hoping his voice would carry and echo far enough to lure the trespasser further into the busted tomb, rather than Vray having to find him near the entrance. If this stranger escaped and made his way into the desert, not only would the possibility exist that he could put the word out of a Sith's location, but also his chances of dying in the desert were too great and would rob the warrior of a fresh kill. And that would just be a waste, now wouldn't it?

 

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey? I'm picking you up on my scanner but I can get you on any comm channels! Think mine got busted in the fall! Can you...can you please come help me?"

[Raynuk Montar]

Flames and the screams of the innocent. That was the existence that the soul of a very dark man rested within. It was an existence of torment, of hatred, and of despair. The torment of souls ripped from life before they could expire naturally. The hatred of that dark man that he had thrived upon in life and sustained him now. The despair that this same man had caused throughout the galaxy. Like numerous times before, this man found himself lording over this existence. Submitting those under him to his will. And like numerous times before, the dark man longed for more.

 

More torment, more hatred, more despair, and more destruction. Like so many times before, this man desired -- no, demanded -- that he return. And so it became, as in every instance of the past. The soul of this man devoured those around him, slowly and methodically rising to his goal upon their broken, repurposed bodies. Gaining his strength, feeding off of his own desires and the fear of those around him, even in this existence; the realm of death itself.

 

The flames that licked at his form faded into the darkness, into nothingness. And then that nothingness grew back into darkness. But this was darkness with perception. It was darkness that was tangible, darkness that could be felt, darkness that came with awareness.

 

The awareness of someone who was laying in darkness.

 

The mind and the soul were connected once more, both united in purpose. It took but a demand of the Force, a singular thrust in front of the mind and the soul, and the darkness faded ever so slightly.

 

======================

 

Take the body of Master Quietus and have it placed in status for transport to Korriban along with his weapons. His body is to be buried along side of the other great masters who have led the Sith. He will have a tomb at the end of the Valley....

 

======================

 

Deep under the surface of Korriban, at the far end of the Valley of the Dark Lords, was a most recent addition to the numerous tombs that dotted the valley. It was here that a former Dark Lord of the Sith, one who had risen and fallen from power numerous times, was most recently buried. It was not the first time that Raynuk Montar, known more recently as Darth Quietus, had been buried upon the planet, but it was the first time that he was given the honor and dignity of his own tomb. It served as a lasting memorial to the feats of the man. A man who was born on Roon, slayed his family, and came to the Sith, dripping with anger. A man who had studied diligently under Barohm Zar, fast becoming like a brother to him, and rising to the rank of Sith Master on the very day of Zar's ultimate death. A man who had become Dark Lord of the Sith, a man who had lead all out assaults on Jedi planets, a man who had forgone cloning, yet still managed to return from death more than once.

 

The tomb itself held accounts of his life, meticulously carved into the walls of the tomb, as well as holding his most recent possessions. In the middle of the burial room, the man himself was laid to rest within a stone tomb. Engraved upon the top of the tomb itself were the last words spoken to Quietus, spoken by a friend and long time ally to Quietus, a friend who had been left with no choice...

 

"Had you of followed the ways of the Order Brother, I would have willingly followed you to the ends of the known worlds. But you had to fall from the path and left me no choice."

 

Few knew whom the words were spoken by, and even fewer ever had the chance to see the words themselves, for the tomb had been sealed shortly after Quietus was buried there. The words carried with them sorrow, and in what little light managed to enter the room, that sorrow seemed to be painted upon the words. Quietus had been laid to rest in silence.

 

A silence that was broken when those very words exploded and shattered.

 

The top of the tomb, and the words that had been carved upon it, were gone. And it was there, in the settling dust and rubble, that the form of Quietus laid. He had been buried in his armor, his various weapons laid carefully around his form. His arms had been placed upon his chest, each hand holding one of Quietus' lightsabers. His hammer lay on one side of his body near his legs, while his double bladed saber, usually hidden at the small of his back, lay on the other side from the hammer.

 

Quietus had been laid to rest with dignity and honor, and even now, he looked peaceful. The numerous times that he had returned from death before had left his body altered; no longer prone to the decay or degradation of death. His hair, once youthfully brown, was now white, and lay sprawled carefully around his shoulders. His skin was pale, almost gray in tone, but still youthful. If there was anything that showed the age and trials of his life, it had been Quietus' eyes. They had always held glimmers of the inner workings of his mind, and often showed the fire hate or passion that he lived his life amid.

 

Eyes that suddenly shot open; not as if awoken from sleep, but opened as if a sudden realization that one had left the oven on. They opened in the instant that the mind and the soul regained this body.

 

And so Raynuk Montar, Darth Quietus, lived again.

 

====================================

 

The moment that Quietus became aware, he lashed out with the Force; a move that had literally blasted the cover off of his tomb. A few seconds later he regained control of his body itself, opening his eyes and viewing the world once again. It would take a few moments longer for the Sith to sit up, for despite his body not decaying or degrading, his mind's connection to his muscles and limbs would have to be relearned. In a sense, Quietus was at his weakest now, but such was the trade-off for returning from death, a fact that would remedy itself in time.

 

Slowly he sat up, his movements slow and deliberate as he moved his arms, fingers and legs. Upon attempting to exit the stone tomb itself, he nearly fell over, his legs not quite ready to support his weight. Where his body failed him, the Force was there to support Quietus via his mind. And so it was that Quietus stood at the foot of his resting place, and reached out with the Force to gather his belongings. Were anyone present to see it, it would have been quite a show, as various items floated and danced around the form of the Sith before settling into their place.

 

The lightsabers, once held in his hands in death, spiraled around Quietus before settling in their places, hanging from his belt at his waist. The warhammer, once belonging to an old friend of Quietus', Kakuto Ryu, himself a former Dark Lord, spun elegantly from the tomb and secured itself to his back. So too did Quietus' third lightsaber, a double bladed design that while useful, the Sith rarely used in favor of his twin blades. The last of his possessions to be gathered was his Sith cloak, which had been folded neatly and placed under Quietus' head in death. For this last piece, Quietus opted to place the cloak upon his back by himself, choosing not to manipulate the Force. It would serve as a sign to the Sith, that he was indeed once again alive and primed to unleash his particular brand of hell upon the galaxy.

 

His muscles still strained against their sudden use, causing Quietus to speak for the first time, even though there was no one to speak to.

 

"I really should re-consider cloning... This is getting tedious."

With nothing left to gather from his burial chamber, the Sith nodded silently to himself and began his journey out of the tomb to the Valley of the Dark Lords itself. Once out of the tomb itself, it took but a flick of his hand to seal the tomb behind him. While he doubted that there was much of anything left within the newer tomb to be pilfered, it was HIS tomb, and he did not relish the thought of anyone stepping inside.

 

Only when gazing upon the tombs of those who came before him did a realization hit Quietus.

 

He had absolutely no idea where his ship was, and had no idea how he would even get off of the planet. () It was a situation that would require a plan, as he doubted sincerely that his ship would happen to be close enough to call for using his wrist controls. Still, the possibility existed and so he checked anyway to no avail.

 

With little other choice, Quietus began walking, away from his tomb and through the Valley towards the other tombs, unsure what the eventual solution would be. He continued on, all the while attempting to come up with a plan or solution to remove himself from Korriban and get to Coruscant.

 

For it was on Coruscant that Quietus' last memories resided, and it was as good of a place as any to start his next campaign.

 

(Must... find... ship... )

[Raynuk Montar]

((So... its been like 4 days, and I need to get moving. Double post HOOOOO!))

 

"Sithspit..."

 

It was a colorful choice of words to mutter to himself, but Quietus was growing weary and what little patience had had as a Sith was already gone. He had wandered the Valley of the Dark Lords for days, seeking anything that could get him off the planet. He had even attempted, on several occasions, to attempt to lure a transport or cargo ship that was passing near the Korriban system, to approach and land upon the planet. The process itself was grueling, requiring the Sith to enter into dark meditations in order to stretch his mind so far into space. The toll it took was immense, and the frustration of having it fail several times over only served to enrage Quietus and tire him out even more.

 

Having attempted it once more and failing upon the realization that his latest target was droid controlled, and thus had no organic mind for him to influence, Quietus flew into a rage. The sand and relics of the past around him swirled and stirred, faster and faster until it formed a cyclone around Quietus, smashing into and bouncing off the canyon walls around him. Finally with a roar out of sheer frustration, everything caught within his cyclone exploded outwards and settled once more to the ground. Quietus himself fell to his knees in the sand, a feeling that had long been absent from his mind washing over him; A feeling of defeat.

 

As he sat there on his knees, looking around at the Valley of the Dark Lords, Quietus was oddly quiet and calm. Whether it was out of exhaustion or defeat, the Sith Master was still, save for his eyes and his head looking around, contemplating. Just as he began pondering his fate, if he were to die here on this planet so soon after he fought back... What point would there be in returning again? It was then though that something caught his eye, and triggered his mind to focus back on the present.

 

At first Quietus did not know why he had suddenly been snapped back to reality. His gaze had fallen upon one of the many tombs within the valley. But the tomb was newer than most. It had been there for years, but not centuries like those of the ancient Sith. This tomb had been built during Quietus' lifetime for sure, and seemed oddly familiar. Like most of the tombs, this one had two massive statues carved out of the stone that made up its facade, usually depicting whoever was buried within in all their glory. Quietus' tomb too had this feature, but he had paid it no mind when he exited. The statues were there, fully intact on this tomb, but unlike the others...

 

It was then that the realization hit him. The statues were different from one another. Not just different poses of the same figure, but two separate figures entirely. Two separate species entirely. In what could have only been a sign from the Force itself, Quietus realized that the tomb he was looking at, was the shared tomb of John Skywalker and Sirvani Zsahra. Not only had the two been friends of Quietus' while they were alive, but it had been their child, Emily, who had become Quietus' most recent apprentice before his death. It was an odd situation to come full circle, as Quietus had trained her father at one point as well. She had been orphaned by her parents death, with her father dying when Emily was seven, and her mother taking her own life shortly after. It was Quietus who, upon Emily's appearance at the Sith Temple all those months ago, had taken her under his wing and promised to train her as a Sith. A promise he had made to not only Emily, but to the memory of her parents.

 

It was not a promise that he was keen on breaking, even now. He did not know where Emily currently was, but upon seeing the tomb of her parents, resolved himself to seek her out once he had found a way off the planet. Quietus had no recollection of how much time had passed since his death, so he did not know if she had completed her training with another Sith or not. The question was pointless either way, for it would not prevent him from finding her and at least allowing her to know that he had returned. If she still required training, he would provide it the best he could. If not, then he would be glad to know that she had succeeded without his guidance, or more likely, in spite of it.

 

His physical memories of the last time he had seen her returned to him, remembering quite vividly the moment in which he had to watch her be brutally killed right in front of his eyes by those he called friends and brothers. It had been one of the hardest things for Quietus to endure, for he knew that he cared for his apprentice. But duty had stayed his hand from protecting his apprentice; a fact that was sure had shattered Emily's faith in Quietus. She had been the perfect apprentice, and had garnered no merit for such a betrayal. Above all else though, Quietus felt remorse at not being able to make amends for such a betrayal. He knew that such an act would be the first thing he would do upon finding Emily again, if not for her sake, for his own. Assuming of course, that she did not attack him immediately for his inaction; which, Quietus considered, would be a very likely action, and one that was completely justified.

 

With his mind again focused, Quietus rose to his feet and began walking towards the tomb of John and Sirvani. What he would find within he did not know, but he knew that he could at least pay respects to his friends in death, and renew his promise to them. He reached the massive stone entrance, which thankfully was still sealed. It seemed that robbers had long since given up on attempting to plunder the tombs of the Sith. The various entrapments and dark presences had either forced the raiders to wise up and move on, or killed those stupid enough to continue trying. Wishing to keep the tomb sealed for as long as possible, Quietus took extra precautions in opening the tomb so that it could be re-sealed upon his exit. Once inside, the Sith was instantly reminded of his own tomb, for both held similar features within. As he made his way down through the passages of the tomb, careful to avoid the pitfalls and traps that would instantly kill a being of lesser mental prowess, he was amazed to find that the light from the planet's surface was still present. It caused the entire tomb to appear more alive than those tombs which were all but pitch black once you got ten meters from the entrance.

 

All along the tomb walls as he walked, Quietus found carvings that depicted the lives of John and Sirvani, Johns on the left walls, Sirvani's on the right. It was an amazing sight to behold, knowing full well that John had died first and buried here. There was incredible foresight given to the design of the tomb, no doubt by Sirvani herself upon John's death. It was clear to Quietus now, that Sirvani had known all along that she was going to take her own life to be with John in death. That in itself painted a very sad story, given that Emily was left behind in the wake of it.

 

As the life stories neared their end, Quietus knew what he would find. And he was justified in seeing a massive archway which lead to the room where both Sith had been entombed. He paused for only a moment, reaching out to touch the side of the archway before stepping within the massive room. Once within, Quietus eyes immediately fell to the two tombs that lay in the center. Given the styling of the tomb so far, he knew instantly that Johns was on the left and Sirvani's on the right. What he did not expect however, was to find that past the two tombs, deeper within the room, was a large slab of stone that seemed oddly out of place.

 

He approached the slab, passing in between the tombs of his friends, which he allowed his hands to fall upon and brush along as he walked. Each tomb had been engraved, like the massive statues outside, with the likeness of John and Sirvani, and merely touching these stone forms recalled the numerous times the three had brought chaos to the world. But his focus was fully on the third slab of stone, and once he reached the base of it, Quietus fully understood.

 

Upon John's death, Sirvani had been devastated, and had been all but numb to the world outside of her own training. This included all but abandoning Emily on Raxis Prime, but standing within the tomb, at the base of this massive stone slab, Quietus knew that the twi'lek did care for Emily after all. The massive slab stone was not an idle location, or an altar, or anything that could be considered useless or pointless. Carved into the stone, under the natural dust that had accumulated, were words that painted a very clear picture of just how much love Sirvani had contained in life, and even through her grief.

 

Within this tomb we rest,

Within this tomb we wait,

For the third of our family,

To join us in the Force.

Upon this spot she will rest,

When her fiery light is put out.

 

This massive stone slab, was a placeholder. Turning to examine the rest of the room, he noted that the slab was perfectly placed equal distances from the tombs of Sirvani and John, and was connected to each by lines carved into the stone floor. The slab was the location reserved for Emily's tomb when she, like her parents before her, joined the Force. Quietus had no doubt that Emily did not even know of this, for he doubted she had ever even visited the tomb of her parents. It would possibly provide her with at least a small fraction of comfort when it came to how cold her mother had been in those last months, and remind her that they were still watching out for her.

 

As revealing as this development had been, it was John and Sirvani that Quietus had come to see, and so he made his way back to the twin tombs side by side. He stopped halfway between them, and once again allowed his hands to fall to the stone carvings of his friends and fellow Sith. For the first time since he entered the room, he truly looked at the carvings, admiring each detail that had been put in. Both had been carved in a respectful manner worthy of their legacy, and Quietus had to smile at the small details; John's scars on his face and chest, and even Sirvani's tattoos had been replicated in design by delicately engraving them into the surface, ultimately outlining where the red of her skin stopped and the black tattoos had begun. In both cases, they had been carved with their eyes open, and even now the Sith had to wonder in respect at how they captured the soul of each so perfectly; Sirvani's eyes showed the sadness, anger, and determination that she had wrapped herself in during life, while John's seemed to exude focus, duty, and wisdom that came with age.

 

As he stood there next to the tombs of his fellow Sith; once his friends, and now the parents of his apprentice; he could not help himself but speak to them through the Force.

 

It has been a long time since I looked upon your forms, and longer still since I saw you in person. You two were of our finest ever, and the galaxy is far too safe without you two running around. But your legacy lives on, and it is a legacy I promised to see excel to greatness. I fell upon the blade of death myself, and betrayed the trust in her that I garnered out of respect for you both. But I have returned once more, and I intend to make good on that promise even now. I have come to care for her, much as you two cared for each other. Were it by your will or not, I will dedicate myself to her training and earning back her trust and affection as I once did... This I promise you, old friends.

 

He patted each of the tombs in turn, knowing that his words were meant for them both, but reaffirmed his own mind. Feeling content in his journey here, he turned to leave the tomb, and to once again return to his attempts to get off world. As he did so however, the entire tomb began to rumble, almost as if the entire planet had just had a sneezing fit. The rumbling nearly threw Quietus to the ground, but he did have to reach out to John's tomb to steady himself. Just as quickly as it began, it ended, leaving Quietus to wonder what in the Force had just happened. His line of questioning was cut short however by the sound of an object on the left side of the room falling from its perch of ceremony on the wall, and clattering to the floor. Quietus was instantly on alert, reaching out with his mind to make sure that there was no one else nearby.

 

Only when he was content with finding no one did Quietus move to investigate what had fallen. Using lightsaber to provide additional lighting to the dim room, it only took him but a few moments to find the object in question. It lay quite erratically on the floor, clearly out of place, as it had no dust settled upon it, most likely due to its fall from its perch on the wall. Quietus recognized it almost immediately; or rather he recognized its nature. It was a Sith Alchemy Battle Axe, similar in its creation to Quietus' own Battle Hammer resting on his back. As he moved to pick it up however, something reacted to his proximity to it. In a flash before his eyes or his mind (He wasn’t quite sure which) Quietus saw the round, gray haired, goateed face of John Skywalker, scar and all. As if understanding came with the image, Quietus knew the axe had belonged to John.

 

Still he moved to retrieve the object from the ground, deciding that it did not deserve to be left there. He had intended to place it back on the wall, to leave the tomb just as he had found it when he walked in. He picked it up, and took the chance to examine the weapon. Quietus had always admired finely crafted weapons, and this was a prime example of a Sith Alchemy weapon, a method that had intrigued Quietus for a very long time, even before the acquisition of his hammer. As he held the axe, examining its craftsmanship, another flash occurred to his mind, but this time it was different. This time he saw three images in sequence.

 

A pair of eyes, one grey and the other hazel...

Black hair, descending in waves down its owner's back...

The fury of combat, the axe of John being swung with precision, the mismatched eyes the only visible element of the attacker's face, which was otherwise hidden by the same black hair...

 

Quietus stood, transfixed for a moment as his mind grasped at what remained of the vision. The axe had fallen to his side, still held within his hand as his arm had done the same. He risked only a glance at it in his hand before turning back to the twin tombs.

 

"You always were a sentimental bastard John..." He spoke with a mild grin.

 

Saying nothing more, yet understanding fully, Quietus again turned to make his exit of the tomb, this time without the interruption of an earthquake. As he exited through the same hallways he had entered, the Sith couldn’t help but look up at the ceiling, and found himself grinning again at finding it to be smooth and untouched, and he knew why. It was but a passing thought, and soon enough Quietus found himself exiting the tomb and journeying back into the Valley of the Dark Lords.

 

This time however, he was one Sith Alchemy Battle Axe heavier, an item he carried with grace and respect as he once again set his mind to finding a way off the planet.

[Qaela]

Staring down at the Sith's ancient stronghold, Qaela wondered if that was the future her own homeplanet was destined for if the Nightsisters managed to completely drive out the Witches. The world below her seemed to have nothing but death on its surface. There were traces of power here, true, and that was why she was here. She wanted to know more of what it was like to be Sith, of what drove them to do what they did, and of the power that they held. This was as good a place as any to start.

 

Her pilot landed them in the planet's only spaceport and waited there. Having left the tainted lightsaber with the hairy Jedi on Bespin, she armed herself with a blaster, wooden knife, and her last remaining grenade. There didn't seem to be much in the way of threats here, but that didn't mean that she would not be wary. Her still solid black eyes scanned the ramshackle collection of buildings as she wondered why any mere mortal would want to live here. She had come here wondering what the Sith throneworld would be like and so far, she was disappointed. The volumes of power she had hoped to find were absent, though there was at least a little chill to the Force that provided comfort.

 

Leaving the ship and Lucifer behind, she set out into the city. She didn't want anything these maggots could provide, but she was nonetheless drawn to this place. There was still something of power here, and it seemed strangely familiar. She kept herself wary as she glided through the dusty streets in search for whatever it was on this planet that still held power. To do that, she cast her presence wide and far, all but challenging whomever or whatever it was to come to her.

 

She could sense many individuals, all weaklings and Force blind, within the limits of this pathetic settlement. They didn't impress her at all and were of little consequence unless they approached her or remained in her path when she approached. What little power she could sense seemed to be out and away from the settlement.

 

She took the time only to steal some food and water--the vendors who protested were left with snapped necks--and begin her journey into the sands. The general absence of wildlife made the few things that were alive stand out all the more as she strode along at a brisk pace. Several creatures followed her progress likely hoping for an easy meal, but she was not concerned. Animals were no threat to her with the Force at her side. She was more curious about the rumored tombs of the long dead Sith and the hauntingly familiar presence she felt there.

[Raynuk Montar]

"You are a long way from home nightsister..."

 

The voice carried itself on the wind of Korriban, bringing with it a harsh blast of sand, as if the speaker was spitting upon those who would hear it. The voice of course was directed at Qaela, for it was rare enough for anyone to journey into the Valley of the Dark Lords unless they were accompanied by a body to be buried there. To have a nightsister treading upon the hallowed grounds was even more of a rarity.

 

Slowly however, a figure appeared in the distance, cloaked and hooded against the blowing sand, and it was making its way towards the spaceport, and by all accounts, was heading straight at Qaela. Whether she would react defensively or offensively did not matter to the figure; to a point he didn’t even really notice as he approached. As he neared the nightsister, the figure stopped, gazing out from under the hood at Qaela for a few silent moments before reaching up and pushing back his hood, revealing a flash of white hair.

 

It was, of course, Darth Quietus. He had seen the ship descending from a ways off, and had instantly felt the presence of the nightsister when she stepped off that very ship. With every passing moment, Quietus felt that the path was being laid before him, one stone at a time, a path that was too hard not to follow. He settled again into a still silence, studying the nightsister.

"...And if you are here for a vacation, I seriously suggest you gut your travel agent for sending you here."

There was but the faintest glimmer of a devilish grin as he spoke to the nightsister. The last time he had seen Qaela was no doubt not lost on the nightsister. He had regarded her rather coldly, ever wary of her possible hidden intentions and her connection to the former Dark Lord; the very man that his campaign had been focused on. Quietus recalled that she had seemed to take a very personal interest in their traveling companion at the time, Delta. That was the last he had seen of her before this moment; hardly enough to say that he knew her well.

 

But yet, for as little time as the two had spent traveling together, and despite his reservations against her, he could tell that Qaela was different now. She had grown more powerful no doubt, but she seemed more mature, wiser, sadder and darker than before. It was a hallmark of many Sith, turning darker over time. But Quietus had been around for a very long time, and had seen many Sith come and go from the world. He knew enough to know that such a change in a person rarely occurred without severe consequences, and most often stemmed from being in situations that could never be forgiven or taken back, let alone forgotten. Something had happened to this nightsister, but what exactly it might be was of little concern to Quietus.

 

He knew she was no longer a threat to him, but old habits and prejudices were hard to break on a whim. That knowledge bought the nightsister the chance to prove herself.

 

"What brings you to Korriban? And for your own good, please dont say you were looking for a powerful artifact to take with you."

 

Whatever the nightsister's response might be, Quietus was all but sure that she would be his ride off the planet. How far beyond that the ride went would depend heavily on their conversation. As he spoke, Quietus idlely spun the Battle Axe in his left hand.

[Qaela]

When she heard the voice first travel along the air, the hair on the back of Qaela's neck stood up straight. It wasn't in fear for she didn't care about anything much to fear about losing it, but in surprise. Brief flashes to her first true mission away from home came back to her and were quickly buried so she could focus. She had thought Raynuk Montar, the ersatz Dark Lord who couldn't tell friend from foe, was long dead and buried. Though, on second thought, considering what this planet was, she admonished herself for being surprised at his presence here.

 

The last time their paths crossed, he struck out at her without provocation or reason. She was not one to be fooled by the same trick twice, so she readied for at least some sort of attack. Though she was stronger than when they last met, he was still the more powerful of the two of them, so she needed allies. The presence of two Force users in these sands did not go unnoticed by the local fauna, so she stretched her mind out and summoned some of them.

 

He stopped a safe distance from her and made quips about her choice of destination. It was not the sort of reunion she would have pictured him giving her. She didn't care though, not one bit. The Sith were unpredictable, that was their nature. His thinly veiled threat did not escape her notice, but at least he hadn't attacked just yet. Last time, he didn't even give a warning before striking.

 

The fast, rather ferocious beasts [tuk'ata] that had been tracking her movements were answering her summons. She didn't like to fight alone, so if Montar was going to cause any problems, she had plenty of distractions to give her time and space to maneuver, attack, or retreat. The rage that had been simmering within her since Bespin was begging to be let out, but she denied it permission. As much as she wanted to strike out at this Sith and kill him or die trying, she wanted something else far more. It was something that was worth waiting for, worth denying herself at this moment for.

 

"I came to see why the Sith consider this place so special," she snapped back at his question. "But so far, all I see is the dust and long faded glory of an Order that can't seem to hold onto any of its gains. What, then, would be the draw to you: one who had achieved his dream only to lose it with hardly a fight?"

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus could tell instantly that this nightsister did not trust him any farther than she could throw him, which was probably not very far in either case. The arrival of the tuk'ata was an interesting development, especially since it appeared that she had attempted to summon them to her aid. After what had occured the last time the two had first met, she most likely expected Quietus to attack her. But that was not his intentions, not this time at least. Qaela however seemed to be ready and almost desiring a fight with Quietus. She spoke again, and Quietus could not help but laugh outright at how much venom there was behind her words.

 

He did not respond to her venomous words right away, instead choosing to disarm her slightly to prove his point. Whether Qaela had remembered or not, her choice of guardian animals was a poor choice to use against Quietus. Once his laughter had subsided, he reached out with the Force, and willfully broke Qaela's rather limited hold over them. The animals instantly perked up and paid notice to Quietus, looking among each other before regarding Qaela. All at once then, as the pack they were, the tuk'atas slowly began to walk forward, their eyes still gazing at the nightsister as they moved to flank Quietus instead. The leader of the pack, the largest of them, moved to Quietus' side and looked up at the Sith, waiting for its chance. The pack had tracked this nightsister through the Valley, and had been eagerly awaiting their chance to pounce. Quietus was all that held them in check for the moment.

 

"There is so much venom in your words Qaela... So much hatred and fury. But it is misguided if you seek to aim it at me. Your choice of... guardians too is rather...unfortunate. Have you forgotten that it was I who renewed the tuk'atas? That it was I who held control over a tuk'ata larger than any you will find on this planet? It seems you have. It seems, you have missed much in knowledge of this place."

 

He scratched the head of the tuk'ata, glancing down at the beast before turning his attention back to Qaela.

 

"You came to see why we hold this planet in high regard? The answer is simple; this, is our history. This planet and its ties to the Sith are older than even the Jedi's ties to Tython. This, is the homeworld of the Sith. Buried here are some of the greatest Sith to ever live. This was once a shining gem of the Sith, this was our throne world. All you see is the dust and faded glory, but that is because you do not know what you are even attempting to see. The glory of this place is not in the physical, but within the Force. It is here that we can learn from the tyranical evil of the past and bend the future."

 

Quietus regarded the nightsister, and could see that his words were having little impact on her. She did not understand this place, and she would not do so from his words. In order to fully understand what Korriban meant to the Sith you had to already believe in it. In a way, if you did not believe in Korriban's importance to the Sith, then you would not be able to feel the benefits of the planet's history.

 

"But you do not see this place for what it means to the Sith, and I can see that my words will not show you it. As for me..."

 

Quietus faded off slightly, looking back down at the pack leader beside him, which continued to look up at him. What occurred next happened in a flash, both litterally and figuratively. In one fluid motion, Quietus drew his lightsaber from his left hip and swept it across his body in an upward arc. The blade of his lightsaber wholy connected with its intended target; the tuk'ata pack leader. The flash of the lightsaber connecting with the tuk'atas neck, instantly decapitating it. By the time the head fell to the sand below with a thud, followed soon after by the rest of its body, Quietus had made his point. The rest of the pack instantly scattered in all directions howling mournfully. He gave Qaela only a glance before kneeling down beside the corpse, and collecting blood and tissue samples from within. Once his task was complete, he stood again, tucking the samples into his cloak before resuming his words to the nightsister.

 

"As for me, its draw was not what it seemed, nor was my 'dream' as you put it. I did not dream or desire the mantle of the Dark Lord, but I did what was best for our order. The droid was un-natural and not meant for the leadership that he attained. The dream was of my companions in that campaign, not of my own. I am here on Korriban because I was buried here. I was entombed here. THIS... is my final resting place. But even death can not hold me Qaela. It has not in the past, nor will it in the future..."

 

Quietus realized that this was the first time that he had ever actually used the nightsister's name, and he had guessed that she had not known of his fighting his way back from death so many times. It was not common knowledge to many, even within the Sith. While most still relied on cloning, Quietus fought and clawed his way back each time for many deaths now.

 

"As it were however... I require a way off the planet. There are things to do, and people to kill."

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer regarded what had happened above Dubrillion before regarding the sight of Korriban as the ship landed. The meeting did not go entirely to plan however he hoped the alliance would be made even if not by Qaela. Focusing off the matter he turned his full attention to the planet. He had many memories here, of his former master and him. It was here that he first became a Sith Lord and entered the Valley of the Dark Lords. It was where he experienced the ancient and sacred power of the tombs within when he had entered the tomb of the long buried Dark Lord, Darth Bane. Creator of the rule of two.

 

Through trial by fire and blood he had fought his way and claimed his sword. But those days were long gone, today the galaxy had changed. Disregarding such thoughts, Lucifer felt his side vibrate as his comlink chirped. Peering at it he focused his good eye upon the message transcribed, it seemed he was being re-assigned. Upon looking at his task his eye lit up with poisonous glee. This would be fun. However first was the subject of acquiring transportaion for his ride with Qaela had come to an end. What he needed was a way to Coruscant, it would be there where he could re-acquire his own ship and set about events.

 

Stepping out onto the red sand Lucifer was intoxicated by the darkside. How it felt so right. Here he felt truly alive, here he knew what it meant to be a Sith. And then he felt it. A old yet oddly familiar presence. No it couldn't be...could it? Quietus was dead wasn't he? Possibly, but then again from what he had read of the man's life he had a habit of...returning. So it wouldn't be entirely unsurprising if he was. A single thought crossed the kiffar's mind.

 

Interesting. The Dark Lord would be most pleased to hear of these events.

 

Strolling down the ramp after picking up his weapons, Lucifer looked about. All he could see was endless dune after dune. Other than the spaceport and the tombs the rest of the planet was bare other than the odd ruin, all that remained of their once proud culture and tradition. Yet deep inside the Sith knew. Someday they would rise again. On that thought he looked about, searching for a easy ride. Whether he stole or not would be a entirely up to how he felt at the time. And right now he felt ready to carve something up as the thought of battle looming invigorated him. The galaxy was about to know why nowhere was safe. That the Sith were far from done with them. Noting a ship not far off the kiffar walked casually over.

 

His robotic eye zoomed about noting any sign of alarms or defenses that might cause trouble. Once he was certain the craft was unarmed upon spotting the driver the Sith deftly edged his way towards him. It only took seconds before he found a razor sharp blade cut down his spine. Yet another fallen victim to the Korriban sands. Removing anything un-necessary Lucifer closed the boarding ramp and set the course for Coruscant.

 

Before leaving however he sent a brief message to Qaela.

 

''The Dark Lord requires me elsewhere. I have been re-assigned. I shall inform him if you do not of the events upon Cloud City and Dubrillion after that we shall see if our path's cross again. May Korriban offer you the answers you seek as it did me in years past.''

[Qaela]

So she had made a tactical mistake. It wouldn't be the first time.

 

Qaela had been slightly alarmed at her loss of control over her first pets. She had experienced hostile takeovers of creatures she had controlled before, but it had always been by one of her own kind, a Nightsister, who had mastered the spell. Now, though, she didn't think any of her clan sisters could overwhelm her, not with her normalized Force potential and her Sith inspired emotion driven use of the Force. Despite that, she had not yet encountered one among the Galaxy who could take an non-familiar animal once it was under her control. It gave even the rage within her pause.

 

Had the Sith resisted his urge to gloat, she might have remained alarmed and unable to know how he did what he did. But, like all the Sith she had encountered, the temptation to gloat and boast was too great. He had previous ties with the creatures she summoned. It would only make sense that he would be able to wrestle control from her. She briefly wondered if, knowing that, it would be worth entering a contest of wills to see if she could take back control.

 

But, there was always more than one path. There were always more than one type of creature on any planet with life that could be utilized. While he spoke on, she only half listened. Quickly and quietly, using all the arts of deception she knew, she found a new prey, a new minion to summon. This one was much smaller, much less noticeable [pelko bugs]. To disguise her silent spellcrafting, she made a feeble attempt to reclaim control of the canine creatures, but gave that up once she had what she wanted. Though they drew slightly closer to the two of them, she did not bring them out. She wanted a reserve in case she needed it.

 

She was somewhat taken aback that he simply wanted a ride off the planet. Though he was no less threatening than any of the other Sith masters she had encountered, he was not attacking. She had little doubt that he would be able to defeat her in combat, especially with her not having a lightsaber or any sort of melee weapon. She wouldn't go down without a fight, but that wasn't what he seemed to be looking for.

 

She considered and pondered for a few moments. If anything could be said of Qaela, it was that she was hardly a trusting individual. "The last time we traveled together, despite my delivering the Jedi's Grandmaster into your hands, you betrayed me and attempted to kill me. Why would I desire to travel with you again and what would stop you from killing me at the first convenience?"

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus again could not help but laugh at Qaela's words. He deactivated his lightsaber and placed it back on his hip, and then simply crossed his arms over his chest, regarding her as he mulled over what he would say to her. There was so much anger in her, so much rage, and it was so uncontrolled. She did not care who she was aiming it at or whether to aim it at a particular individual was a wise idea or not. Serious questions began to pass through his mind about what had happened to her to make her so... broken. That was the only word he could come up with for her. True he had never cared much for her before; she had been an outsider and in league with the very man he was intending to kill.

 

"You did not deliver the Grandmaster into my hands Qaela... You came to me and my companions out of the blue, and all I had known of you then was your servitude under the very man that I was campaigning to kill, and you were an outsider to the Sith. Your claim of tracking the Grandmaster was far-fetched, and I would have been a fool to believe you outright. 'Delivering' the Grandmaster as you put it, did not serve me, or my plans at the time. If anything it was a distraction and had the potential of starting a conflict that would have dominated our Order. Yes, I did attempt to kill you, I make no qualms about that but in that moment, the reasons to silence you outweighed any reason to not. It was not a matter of personal grudge, but one of doing what was necessary to accomplish my task. I had no guarantees that you were not a spy..."

 

Quietus was rather indignant on having to justify his actions again, something he knew he had done when the matter of his attempt on her life had been dealt with initially.

 

"Ar-Pharazon deemed you worthy of joining our company, and I accepted that as enough reason to not kill you. If I wished you dead, why would I not do it now? If I desired you dead, I would not be here speaking to you, I would have simply attacked you outright. There is no one around, no witnesses, and thousands of places I could dispose of you so that you were never found. This is the perfect place for someone to be killed Qaela, and even you must see that. The possibilities are endless. I will promise you this; if I wanted you dead, I would have attempted it already, before you even saw me.

As for why you would desire to travel with me again? I never said you did. I merely stated that I required a way off Korriban, and if you are not willing to provide that, then so be it, such is your choice."

 

Quietus truly did not care if Qaela wanted to help him or not. It was her choice, and he would waste no more time on attempting to convince her if she responded negitively. That was time that he could spend securing another ship off of Korriban. He had noticed that she was not listening to him in the first place, and the approach of the pelko bugs, as clever and hidden as it was, was also not lost on Quietus. He knew why the nightsister had summoned them; for the same reason she had attempted to bend the will of the tuk'atas to her own. Despite her anger and her uncontrolled hatred, she was always defensive. Always looking for a way out, a way to protect herself. It was just another piece of the puzzle of the nightsister.

 

"I will not squander my time with you Qaela. The choice is yours. If you wish me harm, then go ahead and make your move and try and strike me down. You have ample hatred and anger, but you are unfocused and uncontrolled, even more so than you were the last time we met. Even I must admit you had so much potential then, if not a little naive. But now you barely contain yourself. You do not care who or what stands infront of you, you have no concept of a fight that you can not win. I do not need to break into your mind to sense your unbridled desire to fight, to lash out at anything and everything. There is power in knowing when you are up against an impossible task, but you do not seem to care one bit about your own life, and that makes you a danger to yourself and everyone around you. Do not mistake this for bravado on my part; This is me giving you advice, whether you want it or not. I do not know what has happened to you to make you into what you are, and quite frankly I do not care to ask you either. Your demons are your own, but unless and until you learn to harness them, you will find the death you seem to be seeking soon enough."

 

Quietus shrugged, allowing his own anger at how this nightsister could have been steered so far off the path to seethe under the surface of his demeanor. It would be the last he would speak of it for the time being, and instead prepared for what was to come. Be it her offer of assistance, or an all out assault from the nightsister, Quietus was ready.

 

"Again, the choice is yours. Make it so that we may both move on."