Korriban

[Qaela]

Qaela listened to the Sith and allowed her mind to roam through memories and options while doing it. She considered the possibilities and options laid out before her and knew she needed to choose. She wouldn't say that disagreed with most of his assessment of her. She didn't much value her life at this point. It was what it was and right now, it wasn't worth much. She had hoped that integrating herself in with the Sith would finally allow the Galaxy to find a way to kill her, but that hadn't worked. Julio had some further use for her and didn't kill her when she deserved it. The Jedi on Cloud City, too, had not killed her when she had given him the option. Now, not even Raynuk, a man who already tried to kill her, would kill her.

 

It was an intriguing situation.

 

What was more intriguing was that she didn't oblige him by attacking. As much as she wanted to allow the Galaxy to end her suffering, she couldn't yet bring herself to actually do it. Twice, she had tried to kill herself and twice she had failed. Twice she had purposefully tried to get others to kill her, and twice they had refused. Perhaps she was truly dull witted and slow at grasping the obvious, but it seemed that the Galaxy simply didn't want her to die off just yet.

 

She couldn't yet drive herself to force Raynuk to kill her, but she also didn't trust him. That didn't mean she wouldn't work with him. After all, she didn't trust anyone and that didn't stop her from working with them in the past.

 

With a nod of her head, she was decided. She said in an almost cheerful voice, "Did you know the Jedi and their CoreSec pawns wiped out the Sith Temple at Coruscant? The Sith were busy attacking Gala and left their homes undefended. The whole bunch of them there got killed or captured, and the Sith lost a lot at Gala, too. There aren't but a hundred or so actual Sith left, too. Furion is in charge now, so unless you aim to retake your title, it might be prudent to get in touch with him to see what he would make of you."

 

She turned and began walking back toward the settlement and the Sith ship. She kept the bugs on retainer, but had them give the Sith a wide berth. After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder and gave him a wide smile, "You never know, he may want you to kill me. What would be fun, like living the good old days once more, wouldn't it?"

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus could only watch as Qaela mulled over her given choice. He did not know how much of his words to her had sunk in and how much she had actually listened to the Sith, but there seemed to be a fair deal of thinking going on for her part. When she finally did speak, Quietus could not help but be surprised, both by the change in her tone of voice, as well as the message it delivered. That surprise however, was quickly overtaken by his own anger at the news of what occured on Coruscant and Gala. There was a massive amount of anger brewing, and it quickly showed in his eyes, along with the lines on his face tensing.

 

There was anger at the Jedi and CoreSec for wiping the temple out, a temple that he had called home for a fair bit of time preceeding his death. There was anger at the Sith for leaving the temple so suceptable to attack, and for going forward with the mission on Gala. But the majority of his anger was directed at himself. it had been Quietus who had risen to become the Dark Lord. It was his place to lead the Sith, and instead he had failed them. He had allowed this major setback to occur. If he had not fallen idle, he would not have been dethroned... And this would not have happened on his watch. He was however, slightly comforted to hear that Furion was the Dark Lord now, for Quietus knew that Furion would not sit by and allow this defeat to fester, but nor would he place the Sith as a whole vulnerable either. Shadow ops were more of Furion's style, and for the moment that served Quietus just fine.

 

The most immediate desire was to return to Coruscant and find out this truth for himself. Qaela could possibly be lying to see a rise out of the Sith, especially given their history. She had no reson to tell him the truth, but she had no reason to really lie either. The almost cheerful tone of her voice did little to cement her statement in truth, but Quietus was smarter than to dismiss it entirely.

 

As she turned and began walking back the way that she came, Quietus nodded as well, and quickly fell into step with her. Quietus regarded her last comment in amusement, but still found her sudden change in demenor, as well as he persistant strive to find death despite her new cheerful attitude, deeply troubling. He did not care about her to a point, but curiosity was getting the better of him.

 

As the two continued on their way back to the ship, Quietus finally could not help himself. But he would not ask the questions she might expect, for he was not looking for the answers that she was so used to giving out.

 

"So how long have you been tearing through the galaxy seeking death? And perhaps more importantly, why have you not found it yet? You seemed so determined back there, almost expecting, wanting me to try and kill you for no reason... And yet you did not attack me first, a move which Im sure you knew would unleash my full powers upon you."

He looked sidelong at her, and continued, as if talking to himself.

 

"Curious indeed..."

[Qaela]

Qaela looked confused for a second, then smiled again. In her previous lighthearted, almost friendly manner, she said, "I wasn't trying to get you to kill me. Not yet, anyway. I have had more than one Sith try to kill me, so when I realized it was you, I was understandably cautious. I brought forth the canines just in case you decided to attack me. I wasn't wanting to start a fight with you, but I am not going to back down from one should you desire it."

 

All at once, her voice dropped an octave and became serious. "I am tired of running. I am weary of being subservient. I am done with being afraid. So many have tried to kill me and yet, here I am. I couldn't even kill myself because the damn lightsaber refused to ignite. I decided that, no matter what I or others did, I wasn't going to die until Fate or the Force or whatever controls the universe wanted me to die. If a Sith Acolyte, three Sith Masters, two Dark Lords of the Sith, my own sadistic mother, a Sith Lord, a highly skilled and armed Vigo, and what I think was a Jedi Master cannot or would not kill me, then what more or less can I do?"

 

She shrugged at it all, though the gesture turned into an involuntary shudder at the memories. "I have suffered nothing but pain all of my life, so what is a little more? I tried to be invisible and keep my head down. I tried to be everyone's friend and not make waves. I tried to form alliances to keep myself safe. In the end, none of it worked, so why should I bother? If the universe is going to constantly throw pain my way, then I am going to be a pain to others in return. I no longer care what others think of me. There is nobody I care enough about to worry about their opinions of me. I am not a fool--well, most of the time at least--I know that I am, well, difficult to get along with. I am fairly rude, I am most definitely paranoid, and I push people's buttons.

 

"I am tired of simply taking the crap and arrogance from others with a meek attitude, so I don't. They think they can simply threaten me into subservience, but they don't know my secret: I have nothing with which to threaten me with. I don't care about material wealth and I have none to take away. I don't care about power and again, I have none to take. I don't care about my own life, such as it is, so threatening to kill me is meaningless. If someone wants to try to kill me, they will succeed or they won't. I don't care much at this point, though I will fight them. About the only thing I do care about is not running away or backing down any more. I can't control much of what happens to me, but I can control how I react to it. I am done running or being meek."

 

She chuckled at herself, but there was no happiness. "The only person I truly cared about is now beyond my grasp. I guess that is what I get for blowing his heart up and painting my face in his blood. He managed to clone himself--something I should have seen coming--and decided to join the Jedi. Worse, he gave my children to the Jedi and they aren't going to give them back to one as 'evil' and 'fallen' as myself, as if they have the right to keep children from their mother. And I thought Sith were arrogant!"

 

She stopped talking for a moment or two as she bled off some of the rage that boiled over. She had to keep it under control or it would take her over, and that wasn't something she wanted to let happen just yet. When she was more steady, she added, "Now, I must rely on a Sith of all people to get my children back and allow me to wreck vengeance upon the ones who keep them from me. That is, of course, if he doesn't decide that you should kill me for not securing his alliance with Black Sun. It wasn't really my fault, though, they seem to be dealing with their own civil war of sorts what with one of their senior Vigos going over to the Jedi.

 

"So, how have you been since we last parted?"

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus was rarely surprised by anything anymore, but none the less he found himself rather perplexed. He had never heard Qaela speak so much, and was fairly certain she had just spoken more words, than he had heard from her in total up until this point. Not only was the nightsister constantly talking, but for all intents and purposes she was spilling her guts to Quietus, a Sith who had tried to kill her. THese were strange times indeed. However, as curious and surprising as the situation might have been, Quietus did listen and pay attention to what she was saying, as well as reading in between the lines to gleen the deeper meaning behind it all. When she finally did stop talking, he allowed a few moments to tick by before he responded.

 

"Pain, anguish, betrayal, regret, and the ever present feeling of being alone in the galaxy... These are traits that you find yourself carrying as a burden, given the way you speak of them. They weigh you down, and you view them as negitive aspects of your existence. What you must realize Qaela, is that these are not burdens to be carried around. They are tools to be used to stoke the fire within your soul. I have felt all of those just the same as you feel them now. The pain that was inflicted on you, and the pain that I inflicted upon myself. I killed my entire family at a young age in a fit of rage. My mother, my father, and my brother... They all died by my hand, when only my father deserved such a fate. They are the only lives that, to this day, I still carry regret over taking. I have felt the anguish and betrayal that comes from watching someone you care for deeply cut you deeper than you thought possible. And the feeling of being alone in the galaxy, of feeling that your mere existance is worthless..."

 

Quietus shook his head, dismissing the rather vivid memories that came to him from recounting his own experiences.

 

"You have much to learn Qaela, but it is not a lightsaber style, or a trick of the Force to be practiced in safety and in a controlled enviorment. It is a process of learning what you are made of; what drives you, what causes you to stop dead in your tracks, and what inspires you to push yourself harder, faster and farther than you ever thought possible. It is a method of learning that is painful, both physically and mentally. But once you reach the plateau of understanding yourself... Then, then is when you truly become what your destiny holds."

 

He turned and looked at her as they continued their walk through the desert, finding himself to begin regarding her as a pseudo-apprentice. As he had mentioned before, Quietus saw great potential in this nightsister, even now with her mind filled with thoughts of being a lost soul. He would be doing a great diservice to her, as well as the Sith order overall, by not passing on what he could and helping her to define her path forward.

 

"Caring for one's self can be both a hinderance and a great driving force at times. For someone who cares about themselves is someone who will fight to their last breath, their last ounce of strength. Someone who cares about themsleves is someone who is nearly impossible to overcome. But caring about yourself over what is demanded of you for the sake of the greater goal can also serve to impede both the individual, and the collective drive forward towards that goal. The same can be said for the other side of the arguement. One who does not care about themselves, is one who will accept defeat and death with only a fraction of the fight and drive. It can make you weak. But not caring can also make you unstoppable; for you fear nothing. You fear not death, nor defeat, nor failure. Not caring about yourself is how Sith often find themselves needing new limbs and body parts, for them, no sarifice is too much."

 

Quietus was fully aware that he had literally just talked in a circle about the merits of caring or not caring about what happens to yourself, and that was the point. It was a very hard truth to realize fully, and it often came with much experience, and more than a few deaths along the way.

 

"It is a balance between the two... Picking when one perspective is better suited than the other takes time and experience. You accept the possibility of your own death at ever corner you come to, to the point where you have come to expect it each time. Death always has a reason; it just often hides those reasons from the one who dies. A Sith and Jedi are both willing and able to bring death to someone, but their justifications and reasons are what set them apart. If you rely on a Sith to get your children back, it is because you have allowed yourself to rely on him."

 

Quietus realized then that his next words to the nightsister would perhaps be the most important ones of their conversation.

 

"Nothing can happen to you, unless you allow it. You allowed your suffering and pain, you allowed your children to be taken from you by the Jedi, and you allowed the only person you care about to be beyond your grasp."

 

With those words he studied her intently, wanting to see what the reaction would be. It was perhaps the harshest thing he had said thus far, but the truth of matters was often the hardest to accept.

 

"Do I imply that you did not do everything within your power? No, certainly not. Do I imply that these things happened because of your possible inaction? No. I mean to imply that once these things happened, you accepted them as truth, you accepted them as part of 'the plan'. It is in accepting that you failed, and in essence gave up. Those are all fights that you can be, and should be, still waging for yourself. You should not be accepting them, but realizing that for the time being those are the way things are."

 

With her question of him still lingering in his mind to be answered, he found that there was only one answer to give. It was delivered deadpan, and matter of factly. There was no humor in his words, just a serious account of the truth.

 

"How have I been since we parted? I have been dead Qaela. That is why you found me on Korriban. I was buried here, in my own tomb, and then my soul and spirit fought their way back from the horrors of death, climbing on the backs of those weaker than I. I reclaimed my body within my tomb, and here I am."

[Qaela]

Qaela walked in silence for a time after the Sith spoke. She kept her emotions and her mind tightly locked in a pit of oblivion deep within herself. The Sith spoke truth and she knew it. Much of it was what she had already concluded, but there were nuggets that she had not pondered or even thought it was possible for a Sith to think.

 

The biggest truth she gathered was his declaration of how she allowed things in her life to happen and accepted them. She had for too long played victim and passive survivor and it had showed. She didn't stand up for herself and her plan, not until recently. So many mistakes had been made, so many things she had done and thought were flawed. Pain was a constant, she knew that, but she didn't need to fear it. For the most part, she had not thought a Sith to be capable of such self reflective thought. There had been Julio, but her experiences around him had given her more the impression that he was far more calculating and viewed life as a dejarik board. He had impressed her enough with his wisdom that she had been willing to leave Dathomir with him despite her hatred of the Sith. Now, Raynuk, a being she had once feared and hated had shown that he was more than an impulsive power seeker.

 

It did not slip past her that he wasn't treating her with the same level of mistrust and hostility that he had on Ar-Pharazon's ship. He was treating her now as one who was worth notice, if not an equal, at least someone who had value. Perhaps now, if he didn't end up killing her, they might actually become allies someday and seek the same purpose.

 

At last, even as the edge of the settlement was coming into sight, she spoke. "You are right. I have always relied on the Clan for support. When I came into the Galaxy, I relied on various allies and pawns. There is strength and security in numbers, but sometimes those numbers aren't there and you are left on your own. I grew too used to having others to fight with me that I never much learned to fight on my own. It is a mentality that needs to be broken. I need to take control and do things my way and on my own. I have finally gotten to the point where I refuse to be pushed around or intimidated, now I need to take it to the next level and learn to force my will on others as they have done to me for so long."

 

She stopped and looked at Raynuk. "I wouldn't have thought that a Sith of all creatures would be the one who would help me see such a thing. I am tired of allowing things to happen to me and of accepting them. I have always been fond of the darkness, now I should embrace it. The Sith have strength, but they also have too many weaknesses. Where the Sith have weaknesses, the Nightsisters have strength and the same is true of the opposite. I may never be a Sith, but half of me revolves around their philosophy. As much as it pains me, I must thank you for your insight. It would almost be a shame if you had to try to kill me now. Before, I might have simply let you, but now, if Furion orders my death, I plan on fighting with all of my strength. I won't let him, or you, dictate my life any further."

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus nodded in acknowledgement of the nightsister's personal revelation, although he still found flaw in her mindset even at this point. the point was moot however, and he had no use for further imposing his ideals on her.

 

"So long as you understand your limitations and cease your pursuit of your own personal death, then you shall be in full control of your life once again Qaela. You are correct in your assessment that are not Sith, but then again I sense that you are no longer a Nightsister either. You have found a place between the two, a niche that has become all your own. You spoke of each having strengths and weaknesses, a fact that I can not deny, a fact that is perfectly well known to me. It is those weaknesses that I strive to move against, even now. A final word of advice however; tread carefully in this new found position of yours, for you are just as likely to carry the weaknesses of both as you are the strengths."

 

Quietus allowed himself to briefly glance around the ruins of the settlement before continueing. He had kept walking while she stopped, and now found himself several meters ahead of her.

 

"I have no need or desire to dictate your life Qaela, your life is your own. I merely offer what I can, for by my eyes you have taken a far tangent from the path you were walking last we accompanied one another. What potential and promise you had then has fallen by the wayside, replaced instead with the sheer power that comes from your negative thoughts and experiences. The path you were on then is gone as well, but I would see you return to some semblance of that path, even if it is merely a parallel of it. For if you continue down this tangent of what you were to have become..."

 

He trailed off for a moment, his gaze still looking around the settlement before it snapped to her, pressing the importance of what he was to say next.

 

"Youre life, your protential, and any chance you had of getting your revenge and reclaiming your blood will be shattered forever."

 

There was no doubt, no sarcasm, and no hint of jest in his voice or in his gaze. It was akin to a prophecy for the nightsister. The true test would come in seeing what she did with such harsh words. When he finally broke his gaze from her, he turned and continued on further into the ruins, changing the subject almost as easily as he took a step.

 

"I need to get to Coruscant, after that you will be free of me and my meddling advice."

 

If she made the choice to focus and forcibly change her path to better herself, then Quietus was all for that. But if she did not, then he would do nothing, for it would be her own potential that would be wasted, not his.

[Qaela]

She was both interested and suspicious of the man's intent. Sith rarely did anything unless it benefited them. She had gotten entangled in their webs multiple times and was not overly eager to be back in the middle of a new one. He was right when saying that if she was not careful, she could become trapped by the weaknesses of both Nightsisters and Sith. For too long she had allowed others to dictate her future, so she was loath to simply allow someone to start anew.

 

Even though she wasn't eager to go back to how she was, there was a part of her that realized the pure rage she was channeling wouldn't sustain her for long. She had slipped into fits of uncontrollable rage before and with each time, it got worse and worse. On Bespin where she had been driven by desperation and depression, she had gone deeper than before and still hadn't come fully out of it even after almost two weeks. Even the brightest lights burned out if it didn't continue to get new fuel. While rage was strong, it burned rapidly. Right now, she was using her depression, desire for vengeance, and her hatred to keep her floating, but that would fail sooner or later. She didn't want to be in the wrong state of mind when that happened. Going down the path of the Sith had been what got her here in the first place. Nightsisters didn't use their rage and emotions like the Sith did, they kept such things under control. Only after coming into contact with the Sith had she learned the power of unleashing her emotions and that was a good part of what led her here. Depression, desperation, and all of the other things that were giving her such drastic mood swings were the result of her allowing her emotions to get out of control and to start using her.

 

Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of her. Qaela started walking rapidly in order to catch up with the Sith. When she was side by side with him, she asked, "You say you would have me on a particular path. What path would that be?"

[Raynuk Montar]

By the time that Qaela had caught up to Quietus and walked beside him, the Sith's mind was mulling over what his exact plans were. The revelations that she had delivered about the attack of the Sith Temple on Coruscant and the failed assault on Gala weighed heavily into these thoughts, forcing him to ask himself questions that he did not know the answers to. When it came down to it, the simplest plan that he could come up with, the plan that would be the most flexible to a changing situation would be to go to Coruscant and see this truth for himself. To look upon the Jedi crawling through the temple from afar, and then to recover his ship. Then the fun would begin. The nightsisters arrival at his side and question brought him out of his deep thoughts, and he turned to look at her once more, gauging the mindset behind her question before responding.

 

"That is a simple answer. For all intents and purposes, you are an ally to the Sith, if not one of us directly. Whom among us you claim the most connection to is up to you, but does not matter in the grand scheme of things. I would see you back on the path of growth, learning how to control and feed off of your inner turmoil and rage. To be able to summon it when it is needed to fuel your actions, and be able to suppress and contain them when it is equally prudent. Stronger allies makes us stronger, which if what you have told me is true, is something that the Sith need at the moment. I would see you off this path of self destruction, for even you know that it will end with your death; the only question is, how big of an explosion it will be, and who you will take out with you. Will you find the man who tore your heart out and took your children to the Jedi? What if you do find him, only to explode into an uncontrolled rage that you can not recover from, and find that you killed not only yourself, but him as well. What if you slaughter your own children Qaela? Will that serve any purpose?"

 

It was a grim thought to behold, and it had been a pitfall of many Sith and Jedi in ages past. Their desire for revenge, their desire to desperately hold onto ones that they loved breaking them into uncontrolled rage, only to find that they were the instrument of the destruction that they sought to avoid. None were immune to that eventuality, so it was the avoidance of even getting anywhere near the end of that path that was most prominent in Quietus' mind when it came to Qaela. He could see, even now, the pain that her life had caused her, a pain he had felt himself once. He had the benefit of hindsight and going through that experience, an experience that had nearly broken him as well. They were hard lessons to be learned in that way, but they were truths that could be learned instead of felt very easily; to gain the knowledge and experience, without having to suffer the pain and mental scars.

 

"The path I would have you on is not a particular way. I do not see you following the path of the Sith, or the path of the Nightsisters. The path is one of your own making, as I doubt there have been many before you to blaze such a trail. All I know is that it is not the path you have been on prior to our meeting."

 

Quietus looked up from his conversation with the Nightsister, and saw that the spaceport was coming into view on the horizon. He nodded slightly to himself, satisified that he would be among the galaxy at large once again, and once again began drifting off into questions about what he would find. Where his friends and allies were, if they had perished, and what stories they held of his time away. It would be good to be in the loop again.

 

"Indeed..." He quietly muttered to himself, responding to his minds activity.

[Qaela]

"I would never—" Qaela began, but stopped herself. She was going to say "—kill my children" but she realized that she couldn't guarantee that. As drunk on rage as she was, she still had enough presence of mind to know that she might not be able to completely control that rage. She had killed Ca'Aran while within the rage and she had at one point never thought she would be capable of harming him.

 

"You have a point," she admitted. It would take time to regain control of herself, but she would make the effort of changing. It would do her no good to finally get her children back and yet still be in this deep form of rage. At the best, she would only turn out like her mother. At the worst, she would kill them.

 

She walked in silence pondering these things and what she would do. "Look, I can take you as far as Coruscant. You can get a transport there to the Sith or wherever you're going." They would arrive at her ship soon. "First though, we should probably get into contact with Furion. He would want to know of your resurrection."

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus could not help but allow a small, satisfied and quite smug smile to creep across his face as Qaela caught herself. if nothing else, he had presented her with the one thing that she could not see herself doing; the one thing that would destroy her outright. And yet it was something that she could not deny that she was capable of. It was a realization that clearly plagued her mind, as evident by her silence. When she did again speak, the subject had changed, and Quietus did not miss a beat in his response, nor did he look at her or slow down in any way, let alone stop.

 

"There is no need. Furion has his agenda, and I have mine. He is not the person I am choosing to seek out first. When the time is right, I will contact him personally. But you do as you must Qaela. I have nothing to say to him for now if you do so."

 

Quietus continued on, bringing an abrupt end to the conversation as he pulled the battle axe into his hand, and began twirling it haphazardly, almost not even realizing that he was doing it. He would rejoin the plans and actions of the Sith in time, but there was unfinished business to attend to first. Promises to keep and such.

[Qaela]

"Fair enough," she said with a nod. They drew plenty of attention as they walked through the settlement, but none were foolish enough to say anything to them. She led them to where her ship had landed. Before she got there, she could sense that Lucifer wasn't there. Her blackened eyes narrowed at the prospect of betrayal from him, but she quickly dismissed the idea. The man was too keen on power to try to betray her. He was one of the few Sith who had a sense of honor and, since he owed her, he wouldn't betray her until that debt was repaid.

 

Her pilot was waiting patiently in the ship when they approached. "Lucifer," she said, and didn't need to say any more.

 

"He left for his own purposes," the acolyte responded. "He won't be coming back."

 

She was a bit surprised, but it didn't matter. Having him around as a pawn would have been useful, but now she had someone far more powerful. Even if Raynuk wasn't a pawn, if she could retain him as an ally, he was far more effective than Lucifer. "Very well then. We leave for Coruscant. Get us there by the fastest means possible."

 

The acolyte bowed his head and went to the cockpit to do her bidding. She glanced at Raynuk and gave him a thin lipped smile. "You may be a powerful Sith who has mastered many aspects of the Force, but controlling the realm of odors was not one of them. To put it mildly: you seriously need a long shower. The refresher is that way," she said with a jerk of her chin. "I have work to do before we enter hyperspace."

[Raynuk Montar]

(Totally posting from my phone, so my posts will be short for a few days)

 

Quietus could only raise an eyebrow at Qaela's comment. There was a fair amount of amusement in the thought that she would speak to him like that, but he had to contend with the fact that she was most likely correct. He gave her a wordless nod before heading off towards the refresher to aleviate the problem. He was on his way to Coruscant now which was more than a simple step forward in his personal goals. Despite their conversations, Quietus got the impression that Qaela would not part ways with him. He had given her much in the way of guidance and advice, and something told him she would seek out more.

[Qaela]

While Raynuk was in the refresher, Qaela rummaged through the supply lockers and scrounged out a jumpsuit that she thought might fit him. It sure beat the clothes had had been buried in and wandered around the desert in. If he took them, that was up to him, but she didn't relish the thought of being cooped up in this fairly small shuttle with him if he didn't. She found the entire notion almost comical as, for most of her life, she wouldn't have cared one bit. She had been raised in the wilds of Dathomir where their idea of running water involved slaves running back and forth carrying buckets of the stuff. Since coming out into the greater Galaxy, she had become "corrupted" with their customs and habits, namely the idea of personal comforts and hygiene. Her mother, had she been alive, would have beaten her senseless for the very thoughts she was having.

 

Enough of that, though, she had work to do. Before she sealed the ship up for takeoff, she had to collect some new pets. The curious bugs that she had kept following them were now waiting outside for collection. She didn't know exactly what sort of nasty surprise they carried, but if they were native to the Sith tombs, then there was likely something dangerous about them. One never knew when such things would come in handy. She used to have a wide and varied collection of various plant and animal specimens from which she could create poisons and salves. She had lost all of her collection back in her ship. She had been forced to abandon it on Dubrillion within Delta's fortress. She had briefly considered trying to retrieve it while there, but figured it wasn't worth the risk. Likely, Delta's men had already broken into it and looted it or at the least, co-opted it into their own service. It was as good as lost to her.

 

Time to start a new collection. The bugs, likely very aggressive and dangerous on their own, were completely harmless while under her control. Raynuk might have the market on the canine creatures, but she was no amateur when it came to controlling creatures. She stood outside and allowed them to crawl up her leg and torso before settling around her arms. With dozens of the bugs secure on her person, she went into the shuttle and found a container suitable for them and ordered them into it. It was sealed and placed in the small bunk area that she had claimed. Once that was finished, she ordered the pilot to take off and prepare for hyperspace.

 

While he did that, she had one more thing to do. She accessed the message log and found Lucifer's note. It was slightly refreshing to know that he hadn't been ordered to kill her and fled at the very thought of facing her in combat. The other Sith might not think much of him, but at least he appeared to be loyal which was more than most Sith had going for them.

 

With that done, she prepared an encrypted text message of her own.

 

D.L.F., have made contact with the Black Sun Vigo Delta73 on Bespin. Vigo corrupted by Jedi and intends to defect to their side with many loyal followers. He has turned my children over to the Jedi for "safekeeping." He shall die in fire for that.

 

Took initiative in going to Dubrillion to inform Lord Diasaku of potential rebellion within his ranks. He received warning, but cut meeting short for reasons likely related to verification and counteraction. No deal negotiated, but Black Sun likely soon to be involved in civil war.

 

Traveled to Korriban. Lucifer left on own mission. Encountered former Dark Lord Quietus. Taking him to Coruscant per his request.

 

Awaiting further instructions.

 

— Q.

 

She tried to leave it as vague and short as possible in case it was intercepted. She wasn't entirely sure how secretive Furion wanted to be, but she wasn't going to be the one to be caught using his name in a message sent across the Galaxy. She sent off the message and then had nothing left to do but to sit back and wait for Raynuk to emerge from the refresher.

 

She didn't know if he would still be in his chatty mood, or if they would pass this trip in silence. Either way suited her more than having him attack her, but she wouldn't mind talking more. Her impressions of him had already been seriously altered by their conversation. She was interested in hearing more of what he had to say and to see if there wasn't a way for her to form some sort of alliance or at least, mutual goals. Until she received word from Furion, she had nothing else to do but plan revenge against the Jedi and Delta. Having someone of Raynuk's strength would come quite in handy if she could persuade him to join her cause.

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus had decided to take his time in the refresher, savioring the feeling after so long spent in death. He spent the extra time within contemplating his next moves once be got to Coruscant, having several ideas depending on what he found once he had arrived. All involved finding the Sith in some form, but the reasons and methods would vary. Once he exited the refresher, the Sith spent the next few minutes meticulously cleaning his armor; he had been buried in it after all, and has Qaela had pointed out, there was a bit of a stench.

 

Once complete, quietus donned his armor once more and moved out to the rest of the shuttle. He found his way to the cockpit, one of the few places where he could sit and have a view of the galaxy. The pilot looked up when the Sith entered, but Quietus dismissed his curiosity with a wave of his hand. He sat down in one of the chairs and propped his feet up, continuing his earlier thoughts. If the nightsister saught him out, so be it. Quietus had no need to further a conversation, but wouldn't deny her his knowledge if she wanted it.

[Zutia Lavell]

Zutia’s story, similar to that of many who sought tutelage with the Force Sensitive sects of the galaxy, began in a cantina. Absentmindedly sipping at a glass of mediocre bourbon, the Agamarian couldn’t help but smile at how… clichéd the current settings of her search for the Sith Order had become, but in a spaceport on a world of such ill repute as Korriban, shelter was difficult to find. The description of the average traveler was almost impossible to pin down—smugglers, pirates, couriers, treasure hunters of any age, species, and origin—and their final destination was almost certainly not this wasted world. Zutia Lavell, wearing a long coat of a light material to protect her from the dusty wind of this planet and speaking in a steady and relaxed drawl, positively screamed outsider to these people.

 

And that long coat… a duster, she thought it was called, certainly lived up to its designation. The coat lay draped over a long, slender lockbox on the seat opposite to hers at her table. In the middle of the table, her brown fingers tapped away at her datapad, drawing up notes and conjectures to aid her search for the ostracized Sith Order.

 

Fresh off the ship from her homeworld of Agamar, the pilot of her shuttle had gawked at his impulsive charge and called her a lunatic when she paid for her ferry and departed ways. Suicidal, he called her. And Zutia, replacing her credit chit in the pocket of her trousers, simply crammed her hat on top of her head, tipped the brow in farewell, and strode down into the choking air of the dustiest spaceport she had ever visited.

 

It had first seemed obvious to begin her search at Korriban. Korriban! Ancient homeland of the Sith Order! Mausoleum world of countless mighty Sith warlords and sorcerors! Site of one of the eldest Sith Temples in the galaxy! Much like the Jedi Order maintained a constant presence at Coruscant, the erratically beating heart of the galaxy, the Sith Order was to be found in the storied ruins of this ancient refuge. Everything that Zutia’s research of the history of the Sith indicated that if the cabal maintained a presence anywhere, it would be at this world.

 

“You know what? I am just overthinking this.” She frowned at the map of the region that was reported to host the Sith Temple. Zutia glanced at the half-empty glass of bourbon in front of her, considered its contents, and tossed back the remainder of the liquor with a wince. The vile liquid burned all the way down her throat. “It really don’t matter at all that much. Knock on their front door, they might kill you; try to sneak around, they might kill you.” And from what Zutia had heard about some of the Sith, they might kill her simply for setting foot on the planet and walking around the streets of the spaceport. Some of them were prone to going on homicidal rampages, rumor had it.

 

Leaving a marginal tip for the bartender on the table, Zutia collected her effects and replaced her wide-brimmed hat. Time to find an airspeeder ferry that was willing to get close to the Sith Temple… and for a date with some of the most dangerous gentlemen in the galaxy.

[Zutia Lavell]

It took Zutia only a few minutes to regret her choice of a ferry to the Sith Temple. True, the man was a capable pilot and his airspeeder was sound, but the gentleman was a bit… jittery. As the pair neared the stronghold, the pilot put on an enthusiastic display of what he clearly thought were evasive maneuvers, flying so closely to the ground that all his passenger could do was to try to distract her thoughts from dwelling on what seemed to be their imminent destruction.

 

There was a beauty to the arid mountains of this planet, Zutia mused. There was a similarity to these crags and the badlands of some of the more inhospitable regions of her homeworld Agamar. At first glance, under the punishing heat of her homeworld’s star, the rocky wastes seemed desolate and sterile. It was as though the hills had been preserved by desiccation and time itself had stopped. But in reality, when everything was silent, one could hear the steady trickle of pebbles cascading down the foothills as wind and plate tectonics slowly ground away at the slopes. But at night, when the unrelenting torment of the sun had retreated…

 

They truly came alive. Out came the froxleins and treyotes, cunning little predators that could eat nearly anything and survive, but especially preferred to snatch up the fluffy little bodies of the herbivores that would timidly abandon their burrows to scavenge for fresh vegetation. Their cacophonous howls would fill the night air with the steady chorus of the night’s insects, drowning out the nocturnal patrols of the enormous pantheras that could silently bring down even the hardiest foragers without a sound. As dead as these lands seemed under the heat of the sun, there would be enormous amounts of life taking shelter in the shadows.

 

“I said—why the devil would you want to go to the Sith Temple?”

 

Zutia said nothing. It was really best that her pilot said nothing at all. Pretending that she never heard a word of what he said, she leaned against the wall of the speeder and hummed the chorus of an old Agamarian folk song.

 

“I mean, you don’t have look like a Sith. They tend to be all… veiny. Pale. Those eyes are creepy as hell. They’re just not… right.”

 

This line of conversation would do no good if her pilot pursued his curiosity any further. Zutia quietly hoped for him to take the hint and focus his attention on his duties.

 

“I mean, you’re clearly not Sith, but I’d think that if you were a spy you’d be more… prepared? That case can’t hold all that much. Some electronics, a rifle, maybe, but…”

 

“My friend.” Zutia held up a hand to cut him off. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the less you ask, the more comfortable this journey will be for both of us.”

 

Silence greeted her words. Zutia began to feel an urge to shoot out the canopy of the airspeeder and eject manually, for her ferryman expressed neither horror or suspicion. Rather, calculation was evident in those apparently simple eyes, as though Zutia was now a disposable piece in some titanic creature’s board game.

 

“So, a hopeful then? Interesting.” A rocky outcropping that passed dangerously close to the fragile wingspan of the airspeeder drew Zutia’s attention away from the pilot’s shrewd expression. “I’m afraid that you’ve come to the wrong place.”

 

“I beg—“ Zutia turned just as the Agamarian felt a sharp pinch against the side of her neck. Warmth rushed from the pinch and a stupor overtook her body. She stared up at the man, utterly helpless, as his hand reached over to shut her eyes with his hand.

 

And with no warning whatsoever, she was unconscious and at the mercy of the Sith.

[Emily]

This time, Emily had placed Quietus’ body in his tomb on Korriban herself. It was her first visit to the ancient Sith world, and if she had been in a better position, she would have been interested in looking around. But she was an emotional wreck, a storm inside that she was bottling up beneath a cold exterior. The ceremony was grand yet quiet, and Quietus was sealed away. Emily ensured that he was buried in his armor, with all of his weapons arrayed in their proper places. But this time, she added something new. It was a ring, placed on his right hand. She had forged it herself, using the skills she had learned during her time revisiting Raxus Prime. It was a simple band of silver, twisted with black iron, and engraved with the Sith rune for ‘one’—the same rune that she had a tattoo of on her chest. It was her final gift to him, and she placed it on his finger in the hopes that he would manage to someday return to her once more.

 

It was a long while and many tears later that she finally turned to leave. As she did, she found herself face-to-snout with a large white tuk’ata. Vex’aedr had been restless and uptight after his master’s death, but despite his distrust of Emily, he hadn’t challenged her. Now, she spoke to him in the Sith language. “You want to stay with him, don’t you?”

 

She could feel the strength of his affirmation. Yes!

 

“Then stay. Guard him in death as you did in life. This tomb is your new home.” She reached out and rubbed him behind the ears, and affectionate gesture she had never before used with Vex’aedr. He was her creation, but he was Quietus’ companion, and it was right that he stay. She didn’t fear that he would die shut up in here; after all, Korriban was the traditional home for his kind. He would guard Quietus, and if the Force allowed, be the first one to greet him upon his return to life once more.

 

Emily placed one final hand on Quietus’ face. As much as she longed to join him, she knew her fate was to keep living. “I love you, and I always will.” She kissed his dead lips, and then sealed the sepulcher. Roe’gall came and gave his brother a snuffly farewell, and then together, Emily and Roe’gall left the tomb, sealing it behind them.

[Raynuk Montar]

Silence...

 

Death had always been the weapon of choice for the Sith. The order, dating back eons, would sow death and destruction across entire galaxies when it suited them. Death was the cold gauntleted hand of the Sith, and for Quietus it was rarely anything less. But for Quietus, a Sith of experience and unseen age, death held a unique role. At times it was his hammer, and at times it was his crucifix. He himself had lost count of the number of times that death had ripped at him, tearing his soul from his body, and in certain cases tearing his body apart. Yet despite all his experience with both sides of the coin in regards to death, he was still never prepared for it, and still never saw it coming for him until it was far too late.

 

In hindsight, the first signs came slowly - painfully slowly - following Emily's return to the Shadow's Gambit. They had celebrated and welcomed each other's company as only they could, and life aboard the ship continued to press ever forward. He had not gotten much in the way of details about her sudden exit, but given his own transgressions against her with disappearing, he had absolutely no ground to stand upon, so he let it go. He had a certain amount of trust in her, that she would speak to him when and if she thought it was needed. But death was lurking behind him even then.

 

It didn't take long for Quietus to begin feeling run down and tired. But even then, even consciously knowing he didn't feel well, he still was blind to the death that was shadowing him. Even then he dismissed it, believing it to be the fact that he had been constantly mentally occupied in the weeks prior. Between launching the Shadow's Gambit, ensuring the ship and its crew ran smoothly, training Karys, and then the saga with the Blood Gem pirates, Quietus had not slowed down for weeks. But then Karys left the ship without explanation after Quietus had made a deal with the Blood Gems, the pirates had subsequently left to pursue their own interests for the time being, and Captain Kira had grown confident in his ability to run the ship without Quietus looking over his shoulder.

 

So it had seemed well within reason that all of that had caught up to Quietus, and he had worn himself out a bit. But he continued to deteriorate to the point of being stuck in a bed, and his pride kept him from accepting anything else to be true. Even when Emily had, after a heated argument which Quietus had to concede out of exhaustion, called upon the medic droids, Quietus continued to be blind to what was looming over him. Only a few day before he would eventually slip into a coma did Quietus finally allow himself to see the impending shadow that fell over him, the shadow that he had seen before and had manipulated just as easily. But even then, he wouldn't admit it to Emily. He could see plainly that she was mortified that he might slip from her again, and for that he put up the best facade he could manage, though in the end she knew better than to believe it.

 

Ever present and on guard, Vex'aedr quite possibly had known all along what was shadowing Quietus. In the few weeks it took for him to deteriorate, the massive white tuk'ata had grown ever more agitated and prone to severe mood swings, as if the beast itself was fighting the connection that it held to Quietus. One day he would be lethargic, and the next would find Vex'aedr nearly biting the hand off of the unlucky crew member who pulled the task of feeding the beast.

 

And then, quicker than before, the coma enveloped him, and he was cut off from the world around him. Even in the coma, Quietus was semi-conscious of the world around him; his mind was essentially trapped in his own body for a few short days. In those days it was like he would sometimes come up for air of the outside world, getting snippets of sounds, smells, and colors. There was the beeping that seemed to be slower and slower every time he became aware to it, the beeping that Quietus could just barely connect to being from the medical machines. His mind would recognize scents of Emily; her hair, her clothing, all the little smells he took for granted. He would even sometimes come to the sudden yet foggy realization of the touch of her hand on his.

 

But it wasn’t until the very end, as even his mind grew sluggish and cloudy, after all the other sensations and realizations were gone that he felt the last link to the world around him. It was a voice... no, it was her voice. he struggled as hard as he could; as hard as he could remember how to; to clear the fog and discern what was being said. But it seemed the more he fought it, the harder the fog and dullness pushed back, and all at once, his mind gave out at last and he fell into that silence that loomed to envelope him. The silence that was the harbinger of the end of Darth Quietus once more.

 

But while silence meant an ending, it also is the starting point as well; a blank canvas from which countless possibilities spring forth. And so they would again. For while the medical devices and even Quietus' own body showed the signs of death, Darth Quietus was not dead, and would not truly die this time. He was instead, standing on the cusp of death. He was shoved - or was it pulled? - right to the edge of the cliff overlooking the dark void of death. But being so close to death, Quietus could see it, and with it, could see the knowledge that came from being one with the Force. He had been among it before, and thus recognized it instantly. Such knowledge and perception utterly obliterated the fog and dull feeling that had encompassed his mind in the weeks prior. And it was in that split second, a fraction of time that seemed endless, that Quietus regained his mental faculties.

 

The death that had slowly dragged him to this jagged cliff edge was not natural, and it was not normal. He had been pulled just to the precipice, enough to feel the other side, for a specific reason, and by a specific entity within the Force. But that last second of struggle against the fog, the moment of struggle that brought about his end, was also the moment that he had held it back long enough to finally pull together parts of what his ears had heard. He had heard words, and it wasn’t until that last split second, and the second he spent on the edge of the cliff that he was capable of understanding. But even then, he had only enough to put together fragments into her voice inside his head.

 

Don’t do this...Come out of this...You promised... I can’t follow... alone in the dark...Please. I love you

 

The words hung with him as he stood on the edge of the cliff for what could have been a decade. Time had no meaning this close to death, and so as the words echoed, Quietus listened. But while the words made him want to turn and fight against the current that had deposited him here, at the same time, Quietus knew that the words were not the reason he had stopped this close. He had been meant to stop here, and it was not Quietus or Emily that was responsible. Just as his mind turned to ponder the idea of why he was now there, the split second turned decade ended quicker than it began. But it was neither a flash of light, nor an envelopment of darkness that ended it. It simply no longer existed. His mind suddenly again became aware of its surroundings, as if it had simply forgotten it was attached to a body. But now it knew it was still in his body. And his body was dead. But how --?

 

It was a thought that was suddenly obliterated within his mind, as if he was not allowed to wonder or question it. Everything seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time, as of Quietus' mind was being warped around time itself. Every time Quietus began to wonder or try and remember anything between the fog taking him and his sudden awareness, the thought disappeared, and a new sense of awareness kicked in. It was as if Quietus' mind was constantly being redirected, distracted around some truth, some nugget of information that he kept turning back towards. Like clockwork it happened; he began to wonder, and then he was aware of his fingers, then his legs, then that he was breathing, then that he possessed eyes. All of these simple things that he had somehow forgotten, and yet every effort put towards curiosity was turned into a new realization or awareness.

 

But even with full awareness of his body, it still took a full minute for any control to be reestablished. By the time that Quietus was capable of opening his eyes, he was no longer sure what it was that his mind was grasping towards, but he still remembered and knew his experience on the edge of the cliff. Soon enough Quietus realized that his eyes were open, yet all he saw was darkness. Momentarily perplexed, the question that he was going to ask didnt even have time to complete in his mind before his other senses filled in the gaps and brought the answer. Korriban... he was once again on Korriban, presumably in his own tomb within the Valley of the Dark Lords, the very same spot he seemed to always come back from death at. Between the smells, a mixture of the sandstone, death and stagnant air and the general feeling of the Dark Side he felt through the Force, it was one of only a few posibilties, but it was the only one that made sense given everything else.

 

As if on cue, the silence within the tomb was broken by the sounds of scratching and sniffing. Having regained a decent amount of motor skills, Quietus probed his arms upward, and found a slab of smooth stone that was almost certainly the top of the sepulcher, and began pushing upon it. With the slight movement against the stone, the scratching and sniffing intensified from the outside. As he continued his efforts to free himself, he reached out with the Force and was both pleasently surprised and releived at the same time to find that it was indeed Vex'aedr on the other side of the stone. It seemed even in death Quietus elicted a powerful sense of obedience and devotion from the tuk'ata. Finally the slab slid free, and Quietus received his first dose of pale light in many months. It of course blinded him outright to begin with, which meant that he had only the split second warning through the force that Vex'aedr was pouncing on his master now that he could see Quietus. In this world and the next, Vex'ader was one of two things that could get away with pouncing on Quietus without receiving a retalatory strike of some kind. So while Quietus braced himself against the mass that was now hurtling towards him, he did not move out of its way or deflect it.

 

For the next minute or two, the beast and his master shared a moment of reconnection and rare affection. Strong pushes of Vex'aedr's muzzle were met with equally strong pats and scratches behind the ears. When the tuk'ata was farily well satisfied and calmed down from its initial excitement, Quietus decided to rise fully from his sepulcher. Time continued to pass, as it is one to do, and Quietus began to return to the living with every passing second and minute. He finally took notice that he had been buried with all his equipment, as if whoever buried him expected him to spring to life and instantly fight a battle on the grandest of scales. As he began checking over his equipment, ensuring that while he rested beyond there had not been a robbery of it corpse, he realized that he now posessed a new belonging; a ring on his right hand. He had not noticed it previously due to his gauntlets, as it had been hidden inside. He removed the gauntlet with curious care, and finally beheld it. A twisted band of silver and black iron weaved within, and engraved with a Sith rune, one that Quietus recognized instantly and told him, as if there had been any doubt left, who it was that had laid him to rest with such care and attention to details. it was the rune that Emily herself bore on her chest as a tattoo, and now it resided on him as well. He reflexively opened and closed his fist several times as he looked at the new ornament he wore from various angles. Finally, knowing he had probably spent far too long focusing on such a trivial thing, Quietus replaced his gauntlet and stood tall, his hand falling to his side as it found the massive form of Vex'aedr's back and gave it a good solid pat.

 

Only then, after he was again the image of a Sith Master, did Quietus mind return to his brush with the cliff of death. But this time, instead of being distracted with a new sense or existence of a body part, he was met only with a blinding golden fire within his head, as if he had stuck his entire head into the core of a star. But from the searing pain and bright fire there were two things that Quietus became aware of. One was a simple illusion, almost like a mental image of a club on Naboo. The second, was his sudden and unwavering urge to find that club. It was more than just curiosity to find out why Quietus saw the image of this club in his mind. It was a feeling that he needed to be there. Beyond that Quietus could not explain. But a Sith Master as tested as Quietus knew much better than to simply trust such a feeling outright. But that same experience also taught him to not ignore it either, especially since there was just barely a wisp of the Force on the image of the club and the urge to find it.

 

And so Quietus would find the club, and he would be cautious about it. There was a part of him that wished to find where Emily was now, but this new purpose intrigued him enough to push even that side. Either way, Quietus knew that he could not attain either goal while he still was on Korriban inside his tomb. Step one was to get off Korriban, from there he could prioritize his desires and purpose.

 

"So it begins again..." He spoke, his words meant for no one but himself, as he began walking towards the exit of his tomb and out into the Valley of the Dark Lords. Vex'aedr needed no commands, and fell in step with his master with little more than a snuff.

 

--------------------------------------------

 

Having found himself in this position a few times before, Quietus knew exactly where to look for a way off the planet. Despite Korriban's reputation, there were still being that were foolish enough to think that they could plunder the tombs of the Sith. As such there were always either treasure hunters actively attempting to circumvent the various tombs or, more likely, the ships of those that failed to survive their attempts. In this case, Quietus found an older ship that appeared to have once been an A-Z-Z-3 light freighter before it was heavily modified by the previous owner no doubt. There was no resistance of any kind as Quietus commandeered the ship for his departure of Korriban. An hour after he found the ship, Quietus was breaking through the atmosphere of Korriban and streaking towards the stars as he jumped to hyperspace.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Korriban. Home. Home of both the Sith species and of the Sith Order, focal point of the Darkside of the Force, and his world. This was what awaited Karys as he exited hyperspace and felt the currents of the force. Feeling the darkness calling to him like a beacon. One which readily greeted him with open arms. As he looked on at the red planet, and felt the currents of the force swirl in darkness about it...he could not but be pleased to return. This was his domain, his heritage. His empire. His by birthright and right of blood, a god among the living...yet many wished to take his throne. And now they had reason to ridicule and to judge.

 

Something he would need to change, to put the contender's back in their place. Many thought he was dead after Faust, as he exited the ship Karys considered and would try and steal what was not theirs. After the tombs he would pay a visit to the city of Ur. Korriban's oldest settlement, when Korriban was reformed Clan Adas the most powerful and influential clan, had returned to it's seat of power and rebuilt the ancient city from the ground up with the Narat's help. Funds drawn from the coppers of the poor, corrupt schemes and secret political maneuvering. In secret they had gained control and wrested it from the Graush millennia ago...something the Graush had not forgotten or forgiven. Old hatreds remained fresh. The Graush were rival for the throne, and had tried a few times already to kill Karys without success. They would his current death as a victory and chance to strike.

 

He would need to restore order. And remove any rivals for his position, secretly...laying blame on others or elsewhere...less the clans would oppose and revolt. He needed them, as much as they needed him politically. Losing their support would be catastrophic so he could take no chances. But first the task ahead.

 

He walked across the endless desert, and confronted the dunes with body in toll. Darth Quietus rid on his back. The dunes were endless. Miles upon miles of them. Yet he knew it well, this was where he grew up and became the man he was. This was his homeland. Korriban was as welcoming as ever it seemed, a band of Ta'kata approached. He felt the Darkside, it was strong here. The beasts were looking for an easy meal, one he would deny them. Attacking the first as it pounced and bound for him, used the force and jumped above it's head before impaling a saber in it's spine and drawing upwards to it's skull. He followed up as the second approached, turning to meet his prey's eyes. Saber aimed forward he stuck it into the beast's mouth and tossed the body at a third Ta'kata before summoning the force to smash both beasts into a nearby rock. He heard the sickening crunch of flesh and bone and felt life ebb away. More victims to Korriban's bloodlust nature. The foruth approached cautiously, obviously the pack leader. The Alpha. This one was larger than the others, with more muscle. A black beast with fire in it's eyes. It pounced with lightning speed, almost catching the young apprentice off guard until Karys applied the force to push it away into the sand. Acting quickly, he jumped at the beast only for it to grab his other arm. Looking at each other, beast and man fought. Before the massassi acquired an edge. Tumbling the beast round he thrust his saber towards the Ta'kata's ribs impaling, the beats yelped and let go. backing off it snarled...before checking it's wound and circling, intent to continue the hunt. Finally it pounced, karys let out a wicked grin as he gripped it's throat and thrust his saber with the force into it's chest. It's life forfeit.

 

After this encounter he continued his quest, on to the Valley Of the Dark Lords. Trekking through the night, he reached the sacred burial ground at dawn. On all of Korriban this was the epicenter of darkness...the valley of the dead. Only the Sith Order and priests were permitted to enter here.

 

For anyone else it was punishable by imprisonment pending exceptional circumstances or death. Karys left Raynuk Montar/Darth Quietus with the priests until he returned from the first tomb. Each tomb played a pivotal role in Karys life or had significant meaning. Adas for his heritage and blood, Quietus found him and then betrayed and abandoned him, a fact which still irked him, and Xendor since the Sith Weapon Masters’ roots he had read from the Sith Archives could be traced back as far as the Minions of Xendor’s rebellion when Xendor counted a number of Weapon Masters as members of his army. The group had interested him, so he decided to find out for himself. From Xendor himself, if these rumors had any truth.

 

With confidence and no fear, saber and parts in hand...he entered the first Tomb to whatever fate awaited him inside.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Karys felt a cold chill flow across his spine as he entered, the grand doors that guarded the tomb marking his entrance inside. They were old, worn and somewhat rusted over but in one piece...the millenia old gold that hung beneath shone o nthe surface seemingly untouched. Not that any would dare enter, only the Sith were so bold. And he was Sith, who was he if not Sith? Nobody. This was what clung to the mind of the young apprentice, he would prove his worth. Prove he was worthy of the title his species claimed, and claim he was worthy of the teachings.

 

On the air Karys was certain he heard a feint whisper. More of a cackle, his presence had been noted.

 

''So you return young Karys. Flesh of my flesh, yet you are not welcome here...your failings disgust me. Begone from my tomb!''

 

Karys replied in kind.

 

''Never. My task is to enter and enter I shall, with or without your consent. I will prove I am worthy of the title Sith.''

 

''Bravery alone is a worthy weapon for a lesser Sith to wield. Cunning. Strength of body, of mind and of will. These are essential for a monarch. You are set to become the sovereign of Korriban and yet you failed to destroy the pretender. You acted without thinking, Vladimir Faust was your better, experienced in matters of the dark arts and yet you charged in like a Bantha.

 

Does your incompetence know no bounds. Or did you simply forget all I instilled in you on our first meeting?''The spirit said mockingly.

 

The massassi let a snarl creep across his lip, he tried his best to ignore the berating he was receiving as he advanced inside the tomb. No doubt the first he would receive but not the last. Karys decided to reply in equal malice.

 

''I have not forgotten. I was caught off-guard, nothing more. Death has humbled me, made me stronger. If you are trying to illicit some reaction other than that which I currently hold, you shall find yourself lacking my lord''.

 

Laughter filled the tomb.

 

''And what gave that impression? Or am I as transparent as my form. Very well, I will give you another chance. If you are as strong as your claim, allow me to test your power. Continue in my tomb and if you survive thy challenges...I will accept and mayhaps reward you for such effort. Should you prove worthy.''

 

With that the tomb fell silent as ancient doorways opened up. Mechanisms long dormant roared to life, empowered by something otherworldly and un-natural. Karys defied the natural reaction, he had no fear. Long ago he had shed his skin of it, and now he had less to be frightened of. He knew what awaited him beyond the galaxy, beyond the force itself. Striding forwards, Karys admired the carvings upon the wall, tales of war and blood. Adas life and times. And then he entered a circular room, one with three other pathways from which to choose. Two closed as a third remained open, after a few minutes the sounds of many shambling corpses could be heard.

 

A hulking mass of flesh and bone, that seemingly moved as one. It was a little disconcerting at first however Karys had grown used to the sight of the fell creatures. Korriban was plagued by them night and day. In his youth his father and Adas spirit had pitted him against many of the undead, korriban zombies some called them. Karys knew them for what they were...undead corpses. The dead who the spirits had refused to let go, the guardians of the valley of the dead and it's secrets. Cursed to forever obey the planet's will and the darkside.

 

He held his lightsaber ready, and waited for the first to encroach upon him. Many held a simple sword and shield, while some adopted blasters and one even held a saber. A Jedi who fell to the whims and whispers of the Dark Lord's he fathomed. A weakness he did not share. As the first strike came he stepped back, and then simply swung his arm wide using the force to send the first row of undead tumbling into the one behind it. Advancing his position, Karys deftly deflected a incoming sword from a escaped corpse and crushed the skeletal form between it's own shield, replying in kind he contineed via lifting it and sent the animated spirit crashing into the far wall...a feat which crushed the ageless bones to a pulp at the exertion. Moving to the next he swept corpse after corpse aside before confronting his first real challenger.

 

Karys had learnt long ago that the ancient Necromancers had created specific types of undead to guard the tombs of Korriban. Tomb Guardians being the more prevalent of them, skeletal creatures that had increased skill and strength even in death in whatever weapon they were created holding and were are able to use any armor they are created wearing. He had been aware long ago that 'Tomb Guardians' were notably more intelligent than revenants or wraiths but were still fairly simple minded. Unlike the dreaded Tomb Princes, martial champions entombed with their Dark Lord in death. It was not the fact they still lived that made them terrifying...by themselves they were a fact to be cautious of yes, but not dreaded. It was the fact that the Tomb Princes were fully intelligent, possessing the personality of the person they were before their death that made them formidable. Added onto the fact that though they are compelled to obey their master, a tomb prince was able to create up to five tomb guardians under his command. Each with varying degree of expertise was reason for pause.

 

The sith apprentice took it all in his stride. As the remainder of the corpses meandered into the room, he cut through them. Pulling one he impaled it with his commandeered saber before slicing upwards and cleaving it's skull in two, turning he split another horizontal at the torso before crushing it's head under his boot. One could never be too careful when it came to the undead. Before long and he was alone with the Tomb Guardian, whom had looked on dispassionate and hungry. It longed for Karys soul. He would deny it, it's meal.

 

Karys sent what would have been a crippling Force Push towards the Guardian, a move which was denied by a summoned Force Wave. Clearly the guardian was equipped to deal with most threats, Jedi, Sith or otherwise.

 

Karys's Force Push hit the Guardian's wave - and the Guardian's wave plowed straight through it. But it was weakened, and though it still threw the Sith Apprentice back he was able to gracefully somersault and land on his feet.

 

"Fear the dead, Karys," Adas warned cryptically. "For the dead have nothing left to fear."

 

He matched Karys speed as they came together again; clad in orbalisk armor, he simply shifted enough to take the blows full on his armor rather than block with his sith sword, arrogantly keeping the weapon lowered. What he did not seem to expect was the impact of Karys's crushgaunt on his face; the gauntlet failed to punch through the nigh-impenetrable organic armor, but the Guardian still took the blow hard, staggering back and snapping his sword up to ward off any follow-up attacks.

 

Karys next movement, a Force Repulse caught him full-on. The armor again blunted the blow, protecting the Guardian from turning into what could be politely called a 'fine red mist', but it did nothing to dissipate its kinetic energy. The Sith Spirit was hurled backwards, slamming into the stone wall and leaving a deep crater behind. More cracks spider-webbed throughout the stone as he extricated himself from the wall.

 

Drawing deeply on the Dark Side, Karys took his chance. Summoning the dark energies of the tomb and armoring himself in them, he utilised Force Hatred. The waves of Dark Side energy began to interfere with the Guardian's connection to the Force - a fact Karys quickly took advantage of. Reaching one hand out, he seized the Guardian's throat in a crushing Force Choke; with the other, he telekinetically wrenched chunks of stone from nearby and flung them at the spirit. Sped by the Force, he quickly followed behind them, sustaining the Choke until he was right in front of the spirit and begun battering him with a crushingly-powerful array of saber blows aimed at his neck and legs. Soon enough the Guardian was weakening.

 

Covered in bruises and slowly starving of oxygen, splendid swordplay kept Karys limbs attached to his body. As their weapons met again and again, Karys began to suspect thew Guardian's skill with a blade, though truly formidable, was not as great as his own - the pillar's of it's fighting style were his inhuman strength, untempered aggression, and impenetrable armor. But taking advantage of this realisation was the difficult part. Karys body avoided injuries, but his unprotected cloak was cut to ribbons by the Guardian's furious assault.

 

Karys riposted opened the Guardian's defences enough for Karys elbow to smash into his face, briefly stunning the spirit and sending him staggering back. Reaching up to his shattered nose, The Guardian wiped away the blood trickling down into his mouth, and readied a high ward. And it was then Karys landed the killing blow, jumping above he approached from behind and impaled straight into then heart. Not taking any chances, the sith apprentice sliced upwards, splitting the spirit in two. The doors opened allowing Karys to choose his next path.

 

Moving on Karys was able to enter the Sarcophagus room. It was here Adas spirit awaited and as he entered spoke.

 

''You have done well, Karys. Most unexpected...I shall allow you to live...for now. But fail me again and I will not be so forgiving. Come claim your reward.''

 

Karys noted to the right side of the sarcophagus lay a blade emitter lens. Just what he needed, picking it up he placed it into the pouch he ahd been given previously. Only then did he exit the tomb and begin the arduous task of dragging Darth Quietus body back to his tomb.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Horuset, Korriban's merciless sun, hung languidly on the horizon as Karys exited Adas tomb and proceeded to Quietus now prepared body. The Grotthu had been busy. The final dying rays of the planet's tyrannical light hung over the Valley of the Dark Lords as evening settled on the blasted world that every Sith held so sacred, Karys included. The great Tombs, restored to their former glory under his people's control, bore silent witness to the procession that now made its way through the Valley. It had arrived from the Hermitage of Korriban and had left that place along a trail lined with fluttering black banners. Those civilians who had followed the cortege since its arrival had stopped at the entry to the Valley. Only Purebloods and members of the Sith Order were allowed beyond that point. And it was exactly those individuals which the funeral procession consisted of.

 

At the rear of the line, an indistinct mass of Grotthu, serfs of Pureblood society-hobbled along. As from times immemorial they would join a new inhabitant of the Valley on his journey into Chaos...however this particular body the clans were used to seeing. Quietus had a knack for returning from the dead. In front of them marched orderly columns of Massassi, no true procession would be complete without such a martial compliment; also an ancient tradition. Before the Massassi came members of the Kissai-the priestly caste of Purebloods. They waved censers rhythmically, perfuming the air with musky incense, and chanted ancient Sithese invocations which implored the Spirits of the Valley to accept this new arrival as one of their own yet again. Higher in precedence in the formation were the majority of the New Sith Order, or at least those who chose to come and accepted the invitation. Mostly acolytes. They marched ahead of the Kissai and were directly behind the procession's head.

 

The front of the procession was even more precisely arranged, again as tradition demanded. In the center of the lead was the body being interred. A great sarcophagus made of polished obsidian held the man who was being memorialized today. It advanced on the shoulders of Darth Revis, Darth Akou, Darth Tidus and Darth Phirus. Behind them came a seductress, Lady Hecate, holding a Sith funeral banner aloft; it fluttered mournfully in the stale Korriban air. Behind her, stood the Tu'kata, Vex'aedr. It was a strange creature that had served as the Dark Lord's bodyguard, pet and guardian. A white and alchemically produced variant of the native Tu'kata the locals had come to call 'The White One'. Quietus he recalled was the one who had brought them back from the brink of extinction, now they thrived again. Its life debt to the man compelled it to continue its service as his Tomb Guardian. In the lead, came Karys Narat iv-Adas, the one the clans had proclaimed, Emperor of Korriban. It was in this latter role that he would be performing the funeral rites after which he would venture further into the tomb and retrieve what he needed to complete his task of making a lightsaber.

 

The march crested a ridge and stopped at the end of Valley below, they had arrived at their destination: the Tomb of Darth Quietus. It had recently also been restored after Raynuk Montar (Darth Quietus) himself had risen from the dead and partially destroying it. The back groups of the procession reformed, creating a semicircle two ranks deep with the Grotthu on the right, the Massassi on the left and the Kissai in the center. The area this semi-circle described in front of the Tomb was where the Sith Brothers and Sisters now stood. The pallbearers gently placed the sarcophagus on the ground and stepped back to join their fellow Sith. Karys Narat iv-Adas approached the coffin and, after taking a deep breath, began the ritual.

 

He drew his breath, and delivered a eulogy to the Red Sith before him, and to all who could comprehend Sithese.

 

"Tuhu antai tuti zo tzirji mikn. Zo mikn diu waria tutki wa ri drijada. Jiso wadinti tuti Raynuk Montar an kair diâ Tsitira Quietus an snaâ iw mus. Sis mikn tuti zudyti sas ri zytsis iw a ramurisi'isi an mus, zo azi natsiji ra. Jsani ir jiso aout. Kad its ir kûts ri tuti nirsinina na mus. Diâ datar mis tash rim an awuzi ant Katidij âti ri nimyi Ari iw ri Tsis tuhu wir. Kiha j'us tsûtri wa wau Darth Quietus, qyâsik tuti na j'us.''

 

((OOC: Translation for Karys Sithese speech: "Once there was a great man. A man who would reshape the galaxy. His name was Raynuk Montar to some and Darth Quietus to most of us. This man was killed by the actions of something unknown to us, a cause undetermined. Stolen in his prime. But even in death he is still with us. And now we lay him to rest on Korriban among the ancient Lords of the Sith once more. May you return again Darth Quietus, the Force be with you."))

 

Karys began, quietly. His voice remained strong, crisp, and clear, booming out to everyone present. There was much weight in his words. His mind traced back to the process of delivering Quietus body into the sarcophagus. How dilligently and respectfully the embalmers and undertakers had treated his body and his wishes. Despite his betrayal of their sovereign. Switching from his native language, Karys then proceeded to go silent, as the Kissai chanted and prayed in the various dialects of Sithese, honoring the great Dark Lord as he was prepared to be interred alongside his predecessors again.

 

After it had ended, the Massassi rose their lanvaroks up into the sky, creating an almost cage-like picture, before slamming them into the ground several times, shaking it, and echoing it across the silent Valley. Approached by another priest, he was handed a golden box, and upon opening it, Karys reached into it, and produced a horned helm, once worn in battle by the Sith, now it served as a reminder of the victorious ones, past and present, and of those that had died. Stepping away from his position, Karys leaned over the sarcophagus, and gently placed the helmet on Raynuk Montar's head. He then put his hand to the front of the helmet.

 

"Darth Quietus, great Dark Lord, wear this victory helmet during your battles in the afterlife."

 

Returning to his position, Karys looked at the gathering before him. Everyone was here. Everyone of importance. The civillians would likely offer worship to Quietus once he was lain to rest. Karys had some words of his own to say, away from the formalities.

 

"I only knew Lord Quietus for a few months. Too short a time. He was there with me at the beginning of my journey in the force, yes he betrayed me...but I cannot discount what he did do for me beforehand. He taught me many things of the force, made me stronger, Now here, at the end of his life, I can't repay that debt. But I will remember. I will remember him. I will carry my debt to him with me, and repay him when I join the Force. I will remember, and so will everyone else. In us, he will never die, and because of him, the Sith will never die. My people, and our order both."

 

With that, Karys stepped down, allowing any of the others to step up and say a personal farewell to the 'supposed' deceased Dark Lord. Each said their piece as Karys stood and observed in silence. At it's end, the ritual complete and the Sith having said their remembrances, the final phase of the funeral began. Taking the sacrophagus on its massive shoulders, Vex'aedr began to ascend towards the entrance. The throng of Grotthu followed in its wake. In accordance with ancient Sith customs, these Grotthu would be the first of Quietus servants in the afterworld. In ancient times herding the Grotthu into the Tomb was often a forceful act but the clans of Korriban knew that the Sith Order was a large supporter in their continued survival. Finding those willing to sacrifice themselves to serve, in a most traditional way, the newly re-emerged Sith Empire's masters had not been difficult. As this group passed through into the Tomb great stone doors closed behind them and a silence fell upon the assembly.

 

All accept one departed. Karys Narat iv-Adas, stood as the last departed, allowing him to enter the tomb unhindered. Following the path he looked at the carvings on the wall...the story of Darth Quietus life. he was surprised to find man was born on Roon, but not so much when he found that he had slayed his family, and came to the Sith, dripping with anger. It interested Karys as he ventured further that the man had studied under Barohm Zar, fast becoming like a brother to him, and risen to the rank of Sith Master on the very day of Zar's ultimate death. More so that his former master had lead all out assaults on Jedi planets, forgone cloning, and yet still managed to return from death more than once.

 

Feats he could never comprehend...yet. Save one. He had returned from death without the need to clone, Karys had unlocked his secret. He swore to himself however he would accomplish other such feats as was depicted. He would equal his former masters legend with one of his own. At last finding the newly interred sarcophagus again, Karys Narat iv-Adas felt a pull, it was like he was willed to a specific spot. A item. One he needed for his quest. A power insulator, now all he needed was the housing case.

 

Heading back out of the tomb, as he placed the insulator into the pouch, Karys made a mental checklist. He was almost there. Heading into the sun, Karys Narat iv-Adas began his next challenge. Xendor's Tomb.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Finding Xendor's tomb was a challenge unto itself. Karys quickly found that nothing around the valley signified nor even pointed to a tomb ever being constructed, either he never had one made...or...it was long buried under the sand. Some even said he was buried on Dathomir. Regardless, he was determined to see if he had a tomb on Korriban and see what all the thus was about the guy. What made him so special when compared to his ancestor and other sith. He had heard the stories, the rumors.

 

Some said he had returned once from death millenia ago, summoned from chaos to fight an ancient war. That he had hidden his appearance and named himself the Dark Underlord. Karys would ask this for himself and find the truth of it. Silently as he was about to give up, the massassi was sure he felt something. A urging as if he were being willed to a specific spot. Yet when he arrived all he found was more sand, a fact which agitated him. That was until his senses tinged and he found himself falling down a deep, dark hole followed by a painful landing at the foot of a millenia old stone door. There was no way back but forward.

 

As with Adas he felt a cold chill flow across his spine as he entered, the grand doors swinging open without any movement of his own. They were old, worn and the words upon the front were unreadable...faded with time. On the air Karys was certain he felt something. Xendor knew he was here, that much was certain. That was if this tomb even belonged to Xendor.

 

A voice whispered upon the air, one filled with ancient darkness. And knowledge.

 

''One enters, the first...in millenia. One who has lost his way...one who seeks a path, to see past the lies and mayhaps seek a future.''

 

Karys edged forwards into the tomb, ever cautious. He spoke out in defiance.

 

''Who are you, who claim to know my intentions!? Who are you to know me.''

 

The massassi let a snarl creep across his lip, he tried his best to ignore voice but could not. It was intelligent, educated.

 

''Ah such arrogance, such defiance. Reckless even as with many of the order. I know many things, young sith. I am he who has persisted for millenia...he who was present at the dawn of our order. He who was betrayed by his own, by the Jedi Awdrysta Pina and who did rise again. He who went by thy name Dark Underlord for thy time and thy slain by Murrtaggh. I am Xendor. I felt you...seeking. You sought my tomb and now I ask, why.''

 

The massassi replied as he advanced.

 

''I seek answers. To your life, to the force...to my own path. Much is not as I was told.''

 

Laughter filled the tomb.

 

''Such is the way of the Sith. Betrayal...infighting, it has led to our downfall many times, I have seen it as I watch and wait. Mayhaps you can change our fate, pass thy trials and advance to my sarcophagus and I may reward thee with thy knowledge you seek. Lay the foundation to your path.''

 

With that the tomb fell silent as ancient doorways opened up. Mechanisms long dormant roared to life, empowered by something otherworldly and un-natural. Karys defied, he had no fear...just as before. Striding forwards, Karys admired the carvings upon the wall, tales of war and blood. Of the Legions of Xendor and the origins of the Sith Weapon Master. And then he entered a large circular room, similar to Adas tomb in many ways. He entered one of the doorways and looked back as it shut behind, locked. Only way way to go now.

 

And then as before...a horde of zombies. What was it with ancient tombs and the undead? It was of little consequence, the sith apprentice, Karys did as he had before. He delivered sith vengeance at the hands of a saber and the force. He held his lightsaber firm but loose, quickly growing accustomed to the weightless blade and it's intricacies. With the patience of a viper he waited for the first to encroach upon him. With each attempt of the undead, he struck with equal ferocity and malice. In silence the spirit of Xendor watched and observed, a smile seeming to creep across as he viewed the battle, even without Karys knowledge.

 

Karys struck hard and fast, adopting the Juyo form. Dashing around with equal parts speed, accuracy and precise strikes. Soon enough and the horde were mere remnants, crushed and broken bone once more. More dead added to Korriban's surface, more souls to torment the damned. Karys moved on to the next challenge.

 

This time a rather large Tu'kata with spikes protruding from it's hide and several smaller variants. The massassi liked the odds and the challenge. Karys yanked and pulled one of the smaller beasts, until it split in two. As another jumped at his back, he spun and stepped to the side, allowing it to bypass him and become his saber's next victim as the blade cleaved it's head. One more smaller variant remained...the larger had stayed back...for now. Smart. It was observing, waiting for a chance. The smaller charged in and as it did so did the larger. Jumping over with the force, Karys barely managed to escape a spike in his rib as he lobbed one off and sent it impaling into the smaller creature. Karys was through with games. Latching onto the creatures heart, he wrenched it. The creature howled as flesh gave way to blood and organs. Soon enough and Karys held it's heart in his hand, squashing it the creature died.

 

At the end of the tunnel was the sarcophagus. Entering the room, Karys spoke out.

 

''I have completed your task Xendor.''

 

At first nothing. And then the chill, Karys found himself unable to move, within moments a figure of a man appeared. Distorted by the millenia and chaos but human in appearance.

 

''You are worthy. I will keep my promise, All you know is a lie...the force is not two parts but one. It is a whole. Light or Dark, there is no such divide. Both are parts of the same being, the same will. The Jedi would have you think it is divided in a vain attempt to disway the true nature of the force. You cannot tame the force anymore than you can tame a star. I cannot emphasize enough the routine and stifling nature of the Jedi way. To remain the same always is to be destined to fail. It is why the Sith shall win, for we are ever changing. Evolving.

 

Now unto thy path I offered. You seek the way of war, the warrior. I offer such a way. Masters of the battlefield, the Sith Marauders are the martial arm of the Sith. Ever has it been this way. They bring the enemies of the Sith to their knees through martial prowess augmented by the Force. In all the Order there are none more skilled in the art of combat than the Marauders. The Sith were born in battle. The Hundred Year Darkness was their womb. Only slightly younger than the Dark Path of Sith Lord, the Marauders have always been there to bring death to the Sith’s enemies on the field of battle. In the time of the Ancient Sith Empire, the Marauders led the Empire’s Massassi warriors in combat thus establishing themselves not only as warriors but also as brilliant squad leaders. Though the institution of the Rule of Two had for a time caused the Path of the Marauder to languish, the establishment of the Sith Order as it stands has sparked the creation of a new generation of Marauders. This is the path I offer.

 

Yet I offer even more than this. All Marauders are well trained in weaponry but some amongst the Marauder Elite focus their efforts almost entirely on weapons training. As old as the Sith themselves, these Sith Weapon Masters’ roots can be traced back as far as my rebellion, when I counted a number of Jedi Weapon Masters as members of thy army. To an outsider there seems to be little difference between a Sith Weapon Master and his Jedi counterparts; nothing can be further from the truth however. While Sith and Jedi Weapon Masters both dedicate themselves to weapons training the underlying reason behind the choice to do this is what separates us. Whereas Jedi Weapon Masters learn the way of weapons as a means of defending others, the Sith Weapon Master seeks to mastery the art of armed combat in order to prove his strength and bring ruin to his enemies.

 

I sense this is what you want. Is it not?''.

 

Karys considered the offer for a moment, and without hesitation accepted. This was truly what he wanted, the skills and power to bring ruin to his enemies. A Sith Weapon Master could do that, not to mention his views on the force had been expanded. He had been told things which contradicted what he had previously been told, indeed he felt the truth of the words. And his experiences seemed to co-incide with them. All Xendor offered, he wanted and needed.

 

''It is. You have given my new insight, new revelations Xendor, I offer thanks. Know I shall honor you for this and remember what you told me, that is once I find the way out.''

 

Xendor laughed.

 

''I count on it. Look to your left and the doorway shall be open. It leads to the surface. Oh and one more thing, you may have this.''

 

With that Karys was given the last component he needed. A short trek out of the tomb and he was free.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Out of the final tomb at last, Karys was glad to be free of the cobwebs and zombies. He had seen enough of them for one day, although he was glad he had found another outer saber casing when exiting the tomb, most likely a final gift from Xendor. Heading out towards the desert, the massassi knew where his next location lied. Where the Crystal Caves were, this was afterall his homeworld. He allowed the force to guide him, as he set each foot forwards, drawing him to a certain location inside. And then...he saw them. And felt their power. They gave off a essence, the darkside was strong in them. They screamed, howled...spoke of death and the screams of the innocent. Two crystals spoke out the most. A red one at the center of the others, and one a bit further along. The, first all as he inspected it, Karys Narat iv-Adas said to himself. This one was special. It would be his. As he touched it, it spoke the existence that the soul of a very dark man that rested within. Long dead, that gave the crystal it's power. Bane it said. It was an existence of torment, of hatred, and of despair. The torment of souls he had ripped from life before they could expire naturally. The hatred of that dark man, all that he thrived upon in life now entombed within it. The despair that this man had caused throughout the galaxy.

 

His fury. Karys had surmised, given the crystal special properties. It pulsed with power and whispered it's name, seemingly in his ear.

 

Bane's Heart. This item was strong in the Dark Side of the Force.

 

As was his other, although he took a third crystal...to add to it's potency. A Lava Crystal.

 

(( OOC: This: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Bane's_Heart_%28crystal%29 and this: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Lava_crystal ))

 

Karys quickly realised that placing them in his lightsabers, would mean its dark power will always be close at hand to call upon. Both sabers would be the same. Of equal power and destruction. Death to his enemies. Karys focused himself and placed the crystals in his pouch. He had enough saber casings present that he could assemble a number of different combinations. Letting intuition guide his hands, and the force...that was ever present here, he began assembling the first saber. Karys eased into the flow and for a moment thought his memories were invading his senses as the red crystal began to recite a mantra into his brain.

 

"The crystal is the heart of the blade.

The heart is the crystal of the Sith.

The Sith is the crystal of the Force.

The Force is the blade of the heart."

 

Feeling the darkness around him, he understood what it meant. Arranging the parts, he focused himself within the force. At first it took a while...nothing. He tried again. Nothing. And then, he felt it. The Darkness. The raw power of Korriban, it's dark heart...beating. The darkside flowed through him, and moved the component of his sabers into place, even as Karys himself sat in a trance like state. The last components clicked into place and Karys Narat iv-Adas held aloft his creation, activating its blade.

 

The lightsaber ignited, releasing a electrical discharge as it's red beam spread upwards. The saber spoke to him, whispering as it pulsed a red plasma beam encased in electricity. It would answer only to him...and make it difficult for anyone other than the rightful owner to use the lightsaber. It would be only his. He repeated the process again with the other saber, only this time adding a extra focusing crystal.

 

 

As he held this lightsaber, it as the other held certain gifts. It taught him something...planted word in his heads. The Force gave him the knowledge and seemingly informed him that a strike of this blade weapon's blade could be used to deliver the ability of Force Harm. Yet on the outside the saber generated a blade that resembled lava surrounding a deep red inner core. The crystal itself was less focused and concentrated than normal crystals, it appeared and therefore lava itself was generated from the extreme heat of the dense, heavy blade, creating bits of flame and sometimes splashed and dripped out from the blade itself. Karys discarded the ripped apart bits of the 'commandeered' saber he had taken from the acolyte of Faust during their encounter.

 

He had no use for it now. De-igniting he placed both upon his sides and headed towards Ur. Now his task was complete, he had others to deal with before he left for Ryloth.

 

The clans had gathered in the ancient city of Ur, called forth by his rival. Karai Sadow iv-Graush who had taken his throne, in his absence.

 

He would pay for it, in blood. Approaching the ancient gates, the guards let him in unhindered...albeit with shock. Their liege lived again. He walked for the palace, pushing the great doors to the main hall open just in time to see Graush about to cement his position and officially claim his prize.

 

All eyes turned. All were shocked, awed even. All accepted Karys back as emperor as he demonstrated his newfound power. Forgave him..offered a second chance. All accept one.

 

Graush refused to bowed. The Clans looked at him in distain, he showed no respect. Rival or not he deserved respect. He was a Sith of noble blood. Karys Narat iv-Adas stepped towards him.

 

''Even now you refuse? You refuse the Sith Order and my right to rule? Even as the Clans recognize my right. Then you leave me no choice. By our laws you shall be punished...disobedience is punishable by imprisonment or...''

 

Karys Narat iv-Adas outstreched his hand, Graush clutched at his throat as life ebbed away. Finally his body submitted, slumping to a mess upon the hall's golden floor.

 

Karys continued to speak.

 

''....death. ANYONE else object to my rule''

 

With no answer Karys was quickly crowned, he spoke at it's end.

 

I must depart for now, but will return within a month. Should events be fitting, but make no mistake I am back. I need a ship, have in made ready and prepared for my arrival within an hour''.

 

With that he left the hall and the Clan Lords, and headed to the hangar bay. Once there he entered a Preybird Class Assault Starfighter.

 

His fighter, The Ahriman.

 

Exiting atmosphere shortly after, he headed for Ryloth.

[Heir of the Shadow]

An old Correllian Corvette easily punched through the upper atmosphere of the Sith planet of Korriban. An unnatural storm seemed to be brewing above the Valley of the Dark Lords. Bolts of lightning continued to pummel the armored hull of the vessel until it breached the last of the storm clouds. Its hull was scorched and blackened by the storm, but one could not ignore the easily recognizable laser charring along the vessel as well. The long freighter angled itself towards the Sith Temple, slowly traversing the Valley. Deep in one of the slave cages within the vessel, a young warrior could feel the strength of the darkness that seemed to ooze from the tombs and the sands. A look of confusion covered his face as his strength pulsed yet he did not understand why. His shoulders ached from being pulled behind him. The cuffs about his wrists dug into his skin, chaffing and cutting his skin. The drugs that the slavers periodically pumped through his system kept him from using his full strength and ripping the chains from the floor. He could feel the ship bouncing about as it made its way through the atmosphere and the clouds above the planet of Korriban. The darkness he felt surging from the planet was slowly unfogging his sense, diluting the drugs in his system, but he was still nowhere strong enough to rip himself free.

 

As the freighter made its way down the Valley of the Dark Lords, two figures stood in shadows on the uppermost balcony of the Temple. One was draped in a thick red cloak, the hood pulled far over his head so only the lower half of his crimson face could be seen. A smirk graced his face as he felt the strength of one of the beings onboard. Curiosity was blossoming behind the cruel smile. The second figure was sheathed in black combat armor. Sith runes had been acid etched into the armor, giving it benefits beyond that of just sturdy construction. A look of pure hatred seemed to be permanently attached to his face. He could also feel the strength of the being that was brought to their doorstep, it was not his curiosity that been peaked, but his rage. The arrogance of these slaver that would would pollute the newly cleansed Korriban. Only the pure, the true, the Red Sith were allowed to set foot upon Korribans soil.

 

Receiving a nod from his compatriot, the armored Sith moved down to the landing bay. His three fingered hand seemed to almost caress the hilt of his lightsaber as he moved toward the corvette. The snarl never leaving his face he watched as 3 Rodians and a several Nikto brought forth the line of slaves they would attempt to sell. It was obvious these slavers had been around in awhile.

 

Before they could even begin to realize what was happening, the Sith warrior ignited his crimson weapon and leapt between them. With each slash he took down a slaver, his blade passing through their weapons and their bodies, each screaming for mercy that would never come. When only the stench of burning corpses remained, he turned to the slaves. Some had fear across their faces, some hope that they had been freed. And one, his body sluggish seemed to not yet process what was happening. But yet the strength of the Dark Side radiated from him, his raw potential making even the Sith cringe.

 

“He is not like the others, Kissai. The others can be Grotthu. But this one is strong in the Force.”

 

The priest slowly moved towards the Dathomiri. Angling his head to see the alien from all sides.

 

“This one is of the Dark Side. But he is not Sith. If he is not one of us….” The Priests raspy voice trailed off.

 

“Then he is one of them.” The Massassi responded without hesitation, drawing his lightsaber.

 

Holding up one finger, the priest halted him.

 

“But perhaps he can be useful. Have two of our most promising Apprentices hunt him in the Valley. His blood, his strength will once more fuel the Sith. Give him his armor and weapons. Let him be a useful training tool before his death.”

 

The Massassi warrior quickly boarded the corvette and emerged carrying several weapons and a crate of armor. They sheathed the young Dathomiri and sent him on his way into the Valley. They knew that in only a short time, his death would strengthen their Order as well as the Dark Side.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

((Sorry for the delay. Although to clarify it's only Sith (as in the Sith Order) who are allowed foot on Korriban as well as the Sith Purebloods.))

 

''As you desire Vaeros, Although shouldn't we at least inform Karys of this interloper?''

 

The elder replied, after first trailing a finger along his brow and then deciding against it.

 

''Not yet. There is no need to inform the Kal’evos just yet...he has greater things upon his mind to deal with other than one slave. Even if they are a potential recruit to the Order. If he proves of worth and survives the test then we shall inform him. No, this Zabrak will be tested by you Veris and by Nazeti. If he is as weak as you think then he shall be just another corpse of Korriban to guard the tombs, now enough pandering...go...hunt your prey.''

 

With that the massassi gave a nod as he entered after the Dathomiri along with one other. As The Zabrak walked the valley he found his thoughts in confusion. Who were these people? What did they want? Why had they freed him? And then it became clear a she was handed his weapons and sent into the surroundings area. Looking behind he briefly caught a glimpse of two red skinned beings chasing him before hearing a whirling sound, at that moment his neck hairs stood up on end in a familiar way that always signified danger. Within moments three razor sharp discs came hurling towards his back and behind them their owner. A hulking massassi, wielding a lanvarok in one hand and a lightsaber of crimson red in the other.

 

He shouted out insults and taunts.

 

''Run little Zabrak run. If you can. For I will not be merciful, Korriban will have it's prize.''

 

As he taunted the other massassi bolted forwards. With near unmatched speed he was quickly gaining, shouting out a battle cry he leapt at the Dathomiri holding his saber with both hands aloft ready to cleave the young warrior in two.

[Raynuk Montar]

Like so many other times throughout its history, a non-descript, uneventful and potentially nameless ship appeared overhead, and began to descend to its surface. Aboard were fourteen equally non-descript and nameless cultists, and their leader who was only known to the cultists as 'sir'. They sat in silence as the ship descended and landed, knowing only what their leader told them about why they were here; which was to say not much at all. They would follow his commands, and that was all they needed to know. Once the ship had landed, and the sandstorm it caused had settled, the cultists began to exit the ship and unload the various containers filled with tomes, datapads, and various other odd items that a wayward cult might need. And just as silently, their leader waved them forward, and the group began to walk across the landscape.

 

After little more than an hour, their leader stopped in his tracks and began looking around, causing the others to likewise pause. After a moment, the leaders gaze fixed on something on the horizon, and he merely pointed in the direction. With nothing else but that physical command, the cultists picked up their items and began walking again. A few more moments brought them face to face with one of the giant, monolithic tombs of the Sith that lay dotted all over the planet. The entire front facade was carved stone, with two giant statues on either side of the massive stone doors that appeared to be holding up the roof of the tomb. While this particular tomb was newer in design than others in the area, the harsh sand and wind of the planet had none the less taken its toll on the stonework, blurring the faces on the statues, rendering them mostly unrecognizable.

 

With the group halted before the tomb, a few of the cultists began pulling out the tomes and datapads, wordlessly attempting to decipher and read the words that had been carved into and around the massive stone doors. Others merely gazed upon the splendor of the facade itself, or just waited patiently for their leader to instruct them further. The leader too seemed to be focused on the doors, though held no tome or datapad as the others did; he merely looked at the door in silence. The silence of the group was broken however, as one of the tome carrying cultists finally spoke,

 

"Sir, I cant seem to figure out the writing completely, but..."

 

"Do not fret my friend, for I already know what this carving speaks of." The leader's voice came, as calm and kind as a gentle river. It was not a harsh interruption of the cultist, but silenced the other just the same.

 

With the silence of the group broken, the leader's gaze too broke from the door, as he pointed to one particular case that another held, before stepping forward and placing his hand on the shoulder of the young woman in front of him, who was looking up at one of the massive statues. She turned to him as his hand landed on her shoulder, and the leader merely beckoned her forward towards the tomb with his other hand. The woman's back straightened as she stood taller and nodded, her joy and excitement at being chosen for this task clear in her body language. She turned to walk forward, but was stopped again by the hand of the cultist leader on her shoulder. She turned again and saw that he was now holding a syringe, given to him by the cultist who held the case he had pointed to earlier.

 

"These tombs are ancient my dear, and as such there is no telling what you could be exposed to within it. I would dare not send you to open the way for us without precautions and defenses for what lies within."

 

His words were again calm and direct, almost melodic. He was the leader, and she trusted him implicitly, so she merely nodded in acknowledgement and acceptance. She turned again as his hand moved to tilt her head to the side and he gently injected the contents of the syringe into her neck, before again beckoning her forward. The woman paused for but a moment to rub the site of her injection before walking forward, filled with confidence and joy at her selection. It was a distinction she was sure she would remember for the rest of her life. The massive stone door was less than fifty feet from where the cultists had stopped, and she closed the gap to the door with ease.

 

Here again she paused, and gently ran her hand over the words carved upon it, words that escaped her knowledge. She noted how fresh the carving was, and how she was able to catch the lip of the door, as if it had been opened before and resealed. But none of that really mattered to her in light of the task that was gifted to her. Nor did she notice that none of her fellow cultists, their leader including, had moved to follow her. Her hands found the lip of the door, and she began to pull with all her strength to open it, as the sound of rumbling stone against stone filled her ears. The door was heavy, but she was capable of moving it and did not cease in her task as the rumbling grew and changed pitch into a low growling noise. When finally she had the door opened enough to allow easy entrance for her fellow cultists, she relented her grip as the rumbling growl of stone faded away. But then the noise rose again...

 

The young woman was correct however; the task she had been chosen for would be one she would remember for the rest of her life, and she would take that sense of pride with her until her death. Which, as it just so happened, was moments away. The rumbling growl rose again, this time from within the tomb, and she had just enough time to turn and look into the pair of blood red eyes, before the face they were attached to lashed out and its jaws enveloped her head. She didnt even have enough time to scream before the jaws clenched down and whipped her inside the tomb.

 

To the rest of the cultists, all they saw was a flash of white before the woman disappeared. Immediately a few of them gasped, while others began to murmur behind their leader. But the leader remained steadfast and statuesque, merely raising his hand again to silence his followers.

 

"Be at peace my friends. This tomb is guarded by a beast worthy of the gods that we seek to return to this galaxy, and we are blessed to have witnessed it. Now we must simply be patient..." He spoke evenly, and then raised his other hand to display the syringe that he still held, "While the tranquilizer takes its course."

 

While the rest of the cultists began to mill around or return to studying the text upon the front of the tomb, their leader kept his gaze fixed on the door. Time passed as it always does, until the leader merely nodded to himself, and began walking forward. The rest of the cultists scrambled to pick up their items and catch up to follow, all falling in line by the time the leader reached the door. He did not pause at the threshold, merely gliding inside into the darkness. The rest of the group however, did momentarily pause before entering. Immediately within the door was the fresh blood stains that served as remains of their fallen cultist and apparent bait, and it was a trail that lead another twenty feet or so into the tomb and ended under a massive pile of muscle and white fur. Their leader passed right by it as if it did not exist, but the others all looked at what they soon recognized as a monstrous white tuk'ata before scrambling to catch up to their leader as he delved deeper into the tomb.

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

 

By the time the leader of the cultists made it to the central chamber, where the Sith would be buried, his number of followers had dwindled to eight. At various points along the way, he had stopped and 'chosen' another cultist to lead the way. Each and every one of those chosen cultists were now dead; having fallen prey to the many traps and tricks meant to keep people out of the tomb. Those that remained now with him were both insanely loyal to the cult, and remorseless towards what had befallen their brethren. But with the burial chamber reached, there were few if any traps left to spring. Immediately their leader began directing them to begin unloading what they had brought in various locations, while he began searching the chamber. When the contents of the storage containers had been placed accordingly, their leader instructed them to open the stone sarcophagus that lay in the center of the room. It was simple, yet made of polished, reflective stone with the symbol of the Sith etched into its cover. All at once, the eight remaining cultists began pushing the cover aside, and then turned it to lay across the middle, above the body contained within.

 

None of the cultists knew whos tomb they were in, nor would they recognize the body that lay before them in peaceful death. As they all backed away from the body, awaiting their next instructions, their leader stepped forward. and placed a number of items upon the turned stone cover of the sarcophagus, all of which seemed to be dripping with darkness.

 

A single, black handled lightsaber...

A short knife of about 7 inches, attached to a coil of chain...

A intricately crafted warhammer...

A heavily modified, red and black, charric carbine...

A seemingly other-worldly whip, coiled around its elemental handle...

 

As each item was placed, the leader turned to one of the cultists and nodded silently, and then turned his attention to the body itself. Reaching into the sarcophagus,he dragged his hand over the armor that the body was wearing; though the armor was black with crimson highlights, time and dust had settled upon it, causing it to lose some of its luster that it surely had in life. The leader's hand lifted, turning into a single pointed finger with which he poked the armor gently as he nodded to yet another cultist. He then backed away from the body, and looked at all eight of the cultists.

 

"My friends, the time has come. We will call upon the spirit of the one who rests here, and in life we will exault him as our new God. And he will shower us with his power, and his praise, and we will taste what it is to be kings." HIs voice, normally calm and stoic, this time had tinges of zealous excitement to it.

 

He then gave a deep nod, and the six cultists he had singled out previously began to spread around the room, leaving two standing with their leader, who suddenly began to chant in a language none of them knew.

 

Ak lielu postu šai dzīvē, mēs aicinām jūs un jūsu gudrība beg! ATGRIEZTIES PIE MUMS TĀPĒC, KA MUMS VAR VELDZĒTIES JŪSU WAKE IZNĪCINĀŠANU!"

[Emily]

The graceful black hull of the Shadow's Shine began a slow approach to the rocky desert Sith world.

 

Emily glanced at Raia. "This is Korriban," she said by way of introduction. "This is where the Sith originated. They were a species back then, millennia ago. Since then, it has become as sacred as a place can be for our Order. It is a place of darkness, of secrets, and of tombs. Many of the greatest and most ancient Sith are buried here, along with many of the most powerful of our time." She paused. "My parents are buried here, as is my old master. One day, I shall join them. But for now, our purpose here is much simpler. I have another apprentice besides you, named Karys. He is supposed to meet us here for me to finish his training and name him a full Sith. While we're down there, I want you to be observant. Use the Force as much as you're able. Give me the impressions you have of the place. Who knows, you might even meet some of the ancient Sith Force ghosts who haunt the place."

 

She rolled her eyes. She was sure Qel-Droma would have a few words to say to her. He always did manage to haunt her while she was here--something about the Skywalker bloodline or some such nonsense.

 

As they flew over the tombs and rubble and dry cracked bluffs, though, Emily suddenly frowned. Something was...off. She reached out with the Force. Something strange was going on, and she got the sense it somehow involved her. Her fingers moved of their own accord, stopping the ship sharply. It hovered for a moment, and then slowly, she turned the ship to a new vector. As they approached, a sinking feeling rose in her gut. She knew this place. It had haunted her dreams for months on end. Even now, she saw it sometimes. But it had been a long time since she had laid his body to rest here. Why had the Force led her here, now?

 

She sighed inwardly. She knew better than to ignore the Force's promptings. "Slight change of plan. I have to make a stop somewhere first." As the Shine approached Quietus' tomb, another wave of disturbance rippled through her. There was a ship on the scanners, a few klicks out from the tomb. Frowning deeper, she brought her own ship right outside and set it down on its struts. She quickly debarked and took a breath of the stale dry air of Korriban. The Force was swirling strangely. She reached out and discovered the presences of several beings inside Quietus' tomb. Her hand clenched into a fist. How dare grave robbers desecrate his tomb? She would not stand for it.

 

Roe'gall had originally bounded out of the ship eagerly--he always loved Korriban--but now was tense, sensing his mistress' mood. He issued a low rumbling growl.

 

"Raia," Eris called, her teeth gritted, "stay with the ship. There are intruders in his tomb. I need to teach them a lesson about what will happen to anyone who desecrates this place." Her voice was cold as ice, a stark contrast to the swirling heat and dust of the planet. Without another word, she strode between the two statues, under the inscription that declared his name. The tomb was already cracked open. Her lightsabers sprung to her hands. They would pay.

[Alora]

Awareness slowly returned to the Sith Mistress as she withdrew from the deep meditation trance she had placed herself in. She had lost track of time since she had been placed into the statis field. Not being able to move certainly had its drawbacks… boredom being one of them… so she meditated. Each time she had let her awareness surface there had been no one around to convince into releasing her. Being held in a room lined with ysalamiri didn’t help any either and made her long to feel the Force flowing through her veins again. She cracked her violet eyes open just a fraction to see that the room was still darkened and empty, only a soft glow from a dimmed light in the center of the room. Still no one around. She sighed and saw the red light flick on from the camera in the left corner of the room.

 

As if in response to her thoughts a deep male voice emitted from the speaker in the same corner, “When the time is right you will be released… and not before…” ‘As long as that’s not forever…’ the Sith Mistress thought to herself, knowing that they could hold her in the statis field indefinitely. Alora closed her eyes once more. If only she could access the Force so she could manipulate someone into releasing her. She knew they would never approach her in person and only spoke through the ships speakers so she couldn’t talk them into doing her bidding.

 

It seemed an age before he spoke to her once more. This time there was an excited undercurrent in his tone, “We have arrived at Korriban! It is nearly time.” ‘Korriban? Nearly time!’ Alora’s eyes shot open as the lights came up within her cell. Her eyes were glued to the door, waiting for someone to come release her from the statis field.

[Raia Montar]

Raia sat quietly as they landed, though her face grew pale as she watched the ship dive and glide its way through the outer atmosphere of the planet. Her knuckles were white from where she gripped the edge of the console, taking great care not to accidentally toggle a switch or press a button since she had no idea what effect it would have on their decent.

 

Emily glanced at Raia. "This is Korriban," she said by way of introduction. "This is where the Sith originated. They were a species back then, millennia ago. Since then, it has become as sacred as a place can be for our Order. It is a place of darkness, of secrets, and of tombs. Many of the greatest and most ancient Sith are buried here, along with many of the most powerful of our time." She paused. "My parents are buried here, as is my old master. One day, I shall join them. But for now, our purpose here is much simpler. I have another apprentice besides you, named Karys. He is supposed to meet us here for me to finish his training and name him a full Sith. While we're down there, I want you to be observant. Use the Force as much as you're able. Give me the impressions you have of the place. Who knows, you might even meet some of the ancient Sith Force ghosts who haunt the place.”

 

Remembering how she’d been able to connect to the Force before, she reached out and fought hard to ignore the prickling on the back of her neck as they flew over the very alien surface of the planet. She was just getting close to feeling more at ease now that they were almost back on stable ground, when Emily suddenly stopped the ship, then changed course. Raia’s stomach flip-flopped at the change in inertia. Curious, she looked to her teacher who immediately filled her in.

 

"Slight change of plan. I have to make a stop somewhere first."

 

Raia nodded, though she felt it hardly her place to question Emily’s plans. The ship set down just outside the stone pillars that, she surmised, housed the tomb of one of the long-dead Sith the older woman had just told her about. It was hard not to notice how on-edge something had made Emily.

 

“Raia, stay with the ship.” Her teacher ordered as she followed her tuk’ata off the ship. "There are intruders in his tomb. I need to teach them a lesson about what will happen to anyone who desecrates this place.”

 

“Yes ma’am.” She managed as the soft prickles she could feel in the back of her mind and on the back of her neck rose more sharply and a feeling of fear knotted in the pit of her stomach as she looked out the view port at the imposing tomb as she watched the great beast and his mistress disappear inside the energy continuing to build and bend to her presence.

 

She’d told Raia to remain observant. The Dathomiri girl was clever enough to know that included through the magicks, the Force, whatever someone wanted to call it. Swallowing the fear she felt deep within her, she attempted to harness it and bend it the way she’d felt Emily do just moments before. Pushing the fear outward from her once more, she felt the newly familiar surges that helped her to connect.

 

Her mind brushed up, ever so slightly against Emily’s. No, she thought, Eris?

 

It wasn’t a name she’d heard the woman use before and she could feel the darker power sweeping over the woman. It was frightening, even freeing, compared with the light side that she’d known her entire life. Inwardly she focused on doing what she could to aid the woman who’d rescued her right whatever wrong was being committed on these hallowed grounds.

[Raynuk Montar]

“Ak lielu postu šai dzīvē, mēs aicinām jūs un jūsu gudrība beg! ATGRIEZTIES PIE MUMS TĀPĒC, KA MUMS VAR VELDZĒTIES JŪSU WAKE IZNĪCINĀŠANU!"”

 

The leader of the Cult of Morthos repeated his chant several times, surrounded by eight of his followers. Six found themselves in ritualistic positions around the open sarcophagus that contained the body of Darth Quietus. All the necessary parts were present according to the ritual that the cult leadership had found, and after the fourth repeated phrase the ritual began in earnest. The leader of the group raised his hands and began reciting the commands he had memorized before being set upon this task.

 

“The remains of the darkened one, they who have walked both sides the doorway of death…

anchors to the world by which blood was spilled, catalyzed by the essence of life…”

 

The six cultists which the leader had singled out each stepped forward, placing their hand upon the item that had been assigned to them as the second line was spoken, and upon its completion each and every one of them pulled their crude blades from their belts and subsequently, and ritually, sacrified themselves by stabbing into their own chests.

 

“Izvēlētajam pēctecim lietošanā!” They all cried out through their pain, using their last breath to its end. One by one they then fell over in death, leaving just the final two cultists and the leader who continued as if nothing had occurred before him.

 

“Atrast savu ceļu, atrast savu ceļu, atgriezties pie šīs pasaules, un notīriet galaktiku caur nāvi, Jums, kas novedīs mūs līdz sajūsma!”

 

The leader then clapped his hands together, and in that instant the bodies of all six newly killed cultists lurched, as the pools of blood they lay in began to rise and swirl through the air. The blood mixed and floated through the air as if the gravity within the chamber was suddenly gone. So too did the five items that had been laid upon the sarcophagus begin to float weightlessly, swirling around and through the blood.

 

“Jūsu laiks ir pienācis, lai atgrieztos! Jums, kam var redzēt cauri miglai, kas karājas pāršo pasauli kā audeklā un aptvert, kur patiess jauda slēpjas. Caur mūsu mestram, viss ir iespējams. Viņa varā ir bez ierobežojuma, un viņa nelokāmo! Rasties, un gavilēt vistīrākajā veidā! Veikt šo svētību un saņemt mūsu mestrs varas garšu!”

 

The leader was in full blown zealous cult ritual mode, as faint bits of lightning and rumbling began to fill the chamber. There the leader stood, like the conductor of an orchestra, completely enthralled by what he was doing. And so it was one of the remaining cultist that first noticed the sound of approaching foot-falls and a faint source of light coming from the entrance to the chamber.

 

“Sir, I think we are no longer alone!” the cultist roared over the noise.

 

No, it is too soon... the leader dared to think before his mind was assaulted, along with the mind of the remaining cultists.

YOU MUST FINISH WHAT YOU HAVE BEGUN.

 

It was a third voice. A voice that neither the cultists, nor the leader of the ritual, recognized or knew. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was a voice that tore through the Force like a bolt of lighting with enough power and intensity that every Force user, every person who even held a connection to it that was on the planet would hear it.

 

Only some would recognize it to be the voice of Darth Quietus.