Space

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Soon enough and the pressure sealed fortress of the necromancer was making it's way through hyperspace. Akheron, noted that Ibmortos had during the journey gone quiet and into some kind of breathless sleep, encased in ice like before where nothing could be done but wait until he meet at a time of his own choosing. In the meantime as before it would fall to the trio of Sith to maintain things.

 

As he sat below in the frigid cold, among ancient tomes, scrolls and holocrons, the light of only undead flames from torches to help him. Akheron Sat deep in thought as he read through the texts, understanding more with each passing hour the intricacies involved in the binding ritual he had proposed to Inmortos, Aeon and Dictum previously. It was complex and involved several parts. It would test them as Sith to the fullest extent and Italy at again plunge them into Chaos itself for a time. And in return they would become more than blood, more than flesh and bone. They would be bound in body and spirit to feel what the other felt.

 

In this way they would defeat any Jedi. For to face one would be to face them all and experience the Wrath and collective strength of the trinity.

 

Finishing the final text, Akheron made his way to where such a ritual could take place. Deep within the floating temple fortress walls and inner sanctum, he sent a brief message on his com-link to save time looking for them. For the fortress was vast and mostly unexplored safe what the necromancer had deemed to show them before his temporary departure from the living world again. Laying in a deep sleep somewhere in the veil between. 

 

Akheron waited in silent vigil, meditating in preparation for what was to come. Preparing but his mind and body, for he would be the anchor between world's and bring them together. 

 

 "Lord Aeon, Lord Ok Ragnar. I need you in the altar room, I believe I have found what is needed for the ritual. We can begin as soon as you come here to me. But prepare yourselves, the price for Such a union is steep indeed. In return no Jedi, Sovereign Knight or their allies will stand against us".

[Keenava Dira]

A few hours passed as the two played Sabaac, leaving Keenava to wonder how much her admission missed its mark. Leena seemed to shy away from it, and the Twi’lek worried a little if she overshared. It wasn’t something she was used to. Healthy exploration of emotions wasn’t something explored in the Sith and the Jedi hated expressing emotions so it complicated matters when Keenava was trying to take a step to becoming more mentally and emotionally healthy. 

 

She’s not your therapist you goofy twin-tails

 

The ebony Twi sighed imperceptibly as she won another hand. Leena was incredibly bad at lying and though she showed a lot of skill in the more mechanical aspects of the game, the little guppy had a tell that the former assassin could pick off almost instantly. It meant some questionable calls, but Keenava won almost every hand. The grandmaster had picked up on what the former Sith was doing after hand number five and attempted to bluff her tell and shift into something different. Keenava was admittedly surprised, but caught the change in stride, winning that hand as well. The Mon Cal let out an audible groan and was going to shuffle up another hand when her comm chimed. 

 

“I told you, Leena, I’m really good at reading people,” Keenava said, suppressing the urge to express the pride she felt in her skills, especially since said skills were earned through pretty morbid research; she did some less morbid research too, but the first-hand experience was always more effective.

 

Leena’s face sank and she indicated that they would have to put their plans on hold. Urgent matters called her back to Ylesia so she rose and asked their ragtag band of rodent traveling companions to change course. 

 

There was some back and forth, but eventually, they agreed and they were off again. 

 

Life has a way of pushing me in different paths, doesn’t it?

 

Keenava thought to herself with a wry chuckle as she lay back on her makeshift bed and attempted to rest. 

 

<< Changing course. Next post on Ylesia >>

Edited July 30, 2023 by Keenava Dira

[Solus]

As the others did their own, Aeon was left to his own devices to repair his body. 

 

The arm was the most troubling part to fix. With Akheron's severing of the limb, solus has to extensively replace numerous wires and central frames. He was able to recover some of the materials from his destroyed ship, but there was not enough equipment to perfectly replicate the arm. The scomp link itself required more special pieces, and so it was technically operable, but remained unconnected to the Shard's mind. 

 

Most of the other fixes were easy enough. The damages from akherons shatter move had left his chassis harmed, but but not beyond repair. However, without stitch-mouth to assist him, Aeon was left to do the repairs himself. 

 

"I must say this will never be normal for me I believe" Aeon commented as he operated on his own open chest while sitting on the cold floor. "I wonder if doctors had ever performed an autopsy on themselves "

 

Aeon giggled at his ponderings. Despite everything that has happened, he felt more whole than ever. He felt, emotionally, a little stronger. He felt a bit more in control of his life. He felt unique even…

 

"Are you actually  unique?" A voice broke the room. Aeon glanced upwards at the figure standing at the doorway to the small room aeon had claimed. The undead lizard reaked of decay and rot. No doubt one 

 

"Why yes I am you insignificant rotting meatbag" Aeon chimed back. 

 

The lizard laughed and stepped in further. Aeon had to study the creature a moment. Directly in its face was a hole from some kind of puncture wound. 

 

"To me you are nothing more than a rock in a robot suit. A droid with an eccentric personality "

 

Aeon clutched his hands at the comment. "A droid that can use the force. Where is your master? Shouldn't you be serving his whims?"

 

The lizard smiled. " he cannot reach me anymore little rock.  Alas, I am now beyond his sight"

 

Aeon paused. Something was off. A momentary glimpse into the Force revealed no presence here in the room. Was this the Madness at work?

 

Aeon stood up, inner chassis still exposed, and raised his hand to wave the apparition away. The lizard faded from sight, giving one last chuckle before leaving the Shard alone.

Aeon sighed. Then jumped as he felt someone's hand grip his shoulder. 

 

"He's right you know…'

 

"By the fangs!" Aeon exclaimed as he toppled over himself onto the floor. 

 

The Fallen behind him laughed. "To imagine that I was killed by a worthless whelp like you. If only I had hidden that grenade a little better.  "

 

"You! You're that…" Aeon started. The Falleen nodded at the shards' realization. The Falleen that attempted an assassination attempt on Akheron before Nar Shaddaa. 

 

"You are in my head…" Aeon began to piece together outloud. "I drained your memories and you are in my head. That's why that lizard looked familiar. He was the first one I ever sucked the brain out of. And because I sucked everything I could, I must have gotten a piece of the personality as well"

 

"Well, personality is based on memories, and memories is based on data, and you basically absorbed as much data as possible…" The Falleen shrugged. "And with your particular eccentric connection to the Madness, you are getting more than you bargained for."

 

What the Falleen said confirmed Aeon's thoughts. It wasn't the Faleen soul or something similiar, for this apparition had no idea about the Madness whatsoever before his death. He was simply a leftover remnant that lived in Aeon’s head rent free. 

 

"But back to the matter at hand, ol dead bones is right" the falleen continued, offering aeon a helping hand up, to which the shard refused. " You aren't that unique. Nothing more than a droid really."

 

"Kriff off, I am unique enough" 

 

The Faleen laughed. "Are you certain? Tell me, where is your ship? Your planet you vowed to attain? "

 

Aeon stopped moments before waving the hallucination away. It had a point. 

 

"By the force, you still are using a regular model of an analysis droid. You may be a rock in a droid chassis, but you aren't unique. Akheron is the lord of rage and leader of the cult. That necromancer has his own planet and now ship made from that planet! That newly taken on assassin probably has something we dont know yet. What do you have? No temple, no servants, just a new name and a puny chassis and a lightsaber. "

 

Aeon listened to the hallucinations words carefully, each one ringing true to his sensors. His lightsaber pulsed at his side, calling at the feelings of envy welling up. It gnawed at the Shard, silently encouraging it to do something about the situation. To kill Akheron, to slaughter the necromancer, to dispose of Dictum, and to take everything they had...

 

"Lord Aeon, OK Lord Ragnar, I need you in the altar room"

 

Akherons voice broke Aeon out of his trance. The Falleen vanished as soon as the words were emitted. 

 

"Coming! Ach, coming!" Aeon stumbled out of the room, almost tripping while clumsily putting his chest pieces back into place while walking. He was still secjring the outer covering when he arrived into the room. He gave an almost comical appearance of a man redressing his robes after being caught performing intimacy. 

 

"Apologies, I was still fixing myself. But as you can see, both my chassis and I are performing optimally. "

 

Aeon banged on his now reattached chest covering to emphasize the point. In truth, he was still slightly shaken from the hallucinations he had encountered, but he saw no reason to let the others know. 
 

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

The realm of Chaos, or as known by the Corellians, hell; was a realm of darkness of despair, a realm of eternal damnation for those whom walked against the bonds of nature and sought to control reality its self. It was the realm of Bogan, of the Darkside its self and was eternal even before the Je'daii ever held a name for it. And it resonated within the very fabric and manifestation of Dictum's own soul. He and Chaos were one.

 

As Akheron went about his own devices, and Aeon did the same, Dictum stood alone, draped in the bloodstained hides he had fashioned his robes from, leathered skins stained with the purple hue of the Undead that beaconed at Inmortos will whom he faced atop the spire of this very ship. And in his pocket, his prize, granted by the Undead God King himself. Reaching into it, he pulled the unnatural crystal forth and let it hover within his palm.

 

It was the Stillblade Crystalis, a crystal usually reserved for the few Cyromancers whom held the knowledge to properly use, a forethought gifted by the crystal when he first picked it up. He knew he could never full possess its abilities, but as the crystal floated above his palm, he could feel its unnaturally cold resonance speaking to him as all light that surrounded it became a darkness to its hunger. Dictum may have been a man of logic, but even he knew these crystals held a symbiotic sentience within themselves as all crystals did, a communion between them and the Force they intertwined with whether it be light or dark.

 

And so he let its sentience guide him through the halls of Inmortos' ship, hungering for the shell that would confine its power and harness it. And so the trek to build its hilt began. Most of the parts were eerily easy to find, almost as if the Undead God King held prior knowledge of this occurrence, bringing a smirk to the hidden face of Dictum as he progressed. But for the casing, it held a different view that made the Sith Lord a little uneasy as he made his approach upon a collection of Soulfrost, a type of ore in which the souls claimed by the Necromancer resided.

 

As Dictum brought his palm close to the ice like ore, feeling the souls within attempting to prey upon his soul, the symbiosis connection between Dictum and the Crystalis tamed the Soulfrost and ensnared the souls within as the Soulfrost became liquid as it wrapped itself around the components and the Stillblade Crystalis contained within. Feeling the cold creep around his fingers and encase the crystal and components, it became solid again and Dictum gripped its cold form tightly as he reached into his connection to the crystal and activated it.

 

With the screams of the Undead, the Stillblade sprung to life, it's blackened blade engulfing all light around that surrounded it and feeding the hungered souls that were contained within its hilt rather than upon the soul of Dictum himself. And yet, the blade did not hum like most lightsabers, an eerie quiet amongst the backdrop of the room where they stood. A silent blade for the Assassin that was Dictum with only the screams of the Undead signaling its activation. A fitting prize indeed. Deactivating it, Dictum clipped it to his hip where the other once sat, feeling the hungered spirits nawing at his soul. And yet, his connection to the realm of Chaos would be its answer,  as it fed the spirits rather than his own soul. Feeling this, Dictum smirk grew into a devilish grin. The Undead God King knew exactly what he was forging in Dictum.

 

Hearing the call of Akheron, Dictum returned to the others. He said not a word upon his arrival, and stood opposite the others. Chaos continued its call to the Assassin, and it was time to answer it once again.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Akheron looked on as both entered, bowing respectfully as if they were his equals, which as Sith he considered them as such, for they had shared many experiences that would of crushed lesser souls. At the centre he had erected a bowl upon the altar, empty and awaiting subsidence. As Aeon/Solus spoke he approved regardless,it didn't matter, only that his spirit and will were ready to endure what would be another painful experience, one that would bind them but at a dark price.

 

 "Greetings both, it shall not matter. Only that your souls are ready, for again we must enter beyond the veil of Death and venture into Chaos itself to prove we are worthy of this Blood Oath we take that will bind us as more than brothers but as Sith. It shall require you speaking only when I signal, a chant spoken in the language of the Order...of the Sith and a blood sacrifice or equivalent measure, in a Shard's case Lord Aeon, this will be more painful than most. You will need to remove a small fragment of your Shard and place it in the bowl at the specified moment.

 

I hope this is agreeable. I shall now begin, let us become what we are meant to be."

 

 With that Akheron began, first by focusing within the Darkness, harnessing it and accessing his Wrath and Rage. As he did so the entire room seemed to darken, as if hear his silent call, the flames of the torches dulled and turned blue, not with heat but of the blue cold of death. As if an ancient evil were present. He uttered the words in Sith his voice filled with the Darkness and resonating across the room. 

 

The temperature dropped accordingly as the doorway to Chaos and the veil beyond was opened, the ritual of binding begun.

 

 "Glaoim anois ar an gcumhacht ársa.

Le m'fhearg is le m'fhearg iarraim ort doras Chaos is Báis a oscailt, agus triall ar bheagán a sháraigh.

Iarraim cúnamh ón veil, chun ár gcinniúint agus ár bhFuath a cheangal.

Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.

Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort!

Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!

 

Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!"

 

Translation: 

 

I now call upon the ancient power.

With my anger and my anger I ask you to open the door of Chaos and Death, and a path that few have tread.

I ask for help from the veil, to bind our fate and our Hatred.

I call upon those with whom my soul is now aligned, and tie the ropes that bind.

Through Death, Chaos, Time and Space I call you thee! As I will it shall be!

 

Through Death, Chaos, Time and Space I call you! thee! As I will it shall be!

 

As he chanted Akheron motioned that the two present with him add the blood just as he did, making a incision just above the wrist and dripping it, causing the previously inconspicuous bowl to tremble and heat up, as the blood bubbled and floated upwards to conjeal in the air, floating like a giant red globe, shiny and crimson. It uploaded awaiting the others to chant the last words and add their own sacrifice of flesh, blood or otherwise.

 

Acheson spoke briefly.

 

'Quickly but, you must add your sacrifice and utter the words 'Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé! or as it translates,

 

'I call upon those with whom my soul is now aligned, and tie the ropes that bind.

Through Death, Chaos, Time and Space I call you! thee! As I will it shall be!'

 

After this we will enter a painful, hallucination type trance and travel again beyond the of of Death to Chaos itself. There we must fight and prove our souls are worthy of binding. That we have the strength to survive anything, to see if we are truly one. A test of the soul and will. "

 

With that he continued the same chanting, intensifying as he spoke each word. As the Darkness, his Wrath and Rage took over and the Sith he was stood before them, locked in room ritual as he became the anchor from the living to the dead, as the summoner of the ritual The one through who's body they would use as a conduit to combine and bind the spirits.

 

Edited August 8, 2023 by Karys Narat iv-Adas

[Solus]

At Akherons words, Aeon shuddered slightly. The memory of wounding his very shard when creating his lightsaber crystal was still fresh in his mind, and the damage he had received from the tree had left his crystalline body still vulnerable. He did not understand how his being was supposed to heal, or if it even was supposed to heal. How does one heal a rock of its damage? 

 

"If it must be done, then it will be done," Aeon commented, regardless of his feelings. As he spoke, his head panels opened up to reveal the small glowing gem connected amongst the wires of his body. 

 

When the ritual began, and the dark side began to resonate in the room, Aeon felt a mixture of excitement and dread grow within him. These experiences always revealed more about the Madness, no matter the origin,  but there was always an unpredictability inherited with such events. But at the same time, that very chaotic essence is what made it exciting. 

 

At Akheron's gesture to add the essence, Aeon focused. Using the force, he began to pull and yank at a piece of his Shard. His voice box emitted some static as the lines in his shard became chaotic and erratic. His effort and pain was not in vain however, as a small piece, no bigger than a fraction of a pebble, tore off, and fell into his open palm. 

 

"Glaoim ar na cinn…" Reaching out, Aeon dropped the piece while reciting the words. He felt his body channel the dark side further into the ritual, unable to hold back the darkness inside. The Madness even began to manifest itself in more tangible forms for everyone in the room, an indication of what Aeon was bringing with him into this ritual: From inside his circuits, down the robotic arm, crawled numerous fingernail-sized purple mist-spewing tumorous spiders, pausing on his hand only to leap into the mixture of blood. 

 

Unaware that the others could see these tiny manifestations of the dark side, Aeon ignored them and continued to chant. 

 

"Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!"

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

As Lord Akheron began his ritual, Dictum stared almost attentively at Aeon as the Shard revealed his resting place within his metallic form, the brandishing of his true form as a combination of sentience and Droid, born of crystalline and ore, a creation of Chaos and Hell it's self. It was a rare sight, even for one who sees of the Force and the Mind's Eye. Slowly, he could feel the voice of Chaos growing closer.

 

For Dictum, the call would be a memberance for those who regained their vision after it's loss, blurred and distorted at first. But as the looming call of Chaos grew stronger and louder amidst his Mind's Eye, clarity would come and focus would set in metaphorically as it grew and the veil became lifted. And when the veil became non-existent, he would see Chaos in its glory and once again know its hellish landscape. And in that moment, he would know the Shard's Madness as his own, just as he would know the Lord's Wrath.

 

"Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!" Dictum's words rolled off his tongue roughly as he joined in the chat, stepping up to the alter and pulling the Sith Sword from beneath his Robes as he ran the blade across his forearm and let the blood pour slowly to a trickle into the chalice below. "Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!"

 

Akheron may have been the vessel upon which Chaos' call came into being, but as the chanting called upon it, it would be Dictum's cracked soul upon which Chaos would answer and the veil lifted. That which resided within him, the sliver of Chaos that had intertwined within his soul, would become the key to it's unlocking. And as the word's echoed into its beyond, the key would be turned. As Wrath joined with Madness, another would join the fray. That which made up Dictum's solemn endeavor: Sin.

 

It was through the Knowledge of Sin that wrought the darkness and birthed Chaos, a singular defiance of all that was considered holy and sacred and defined the differences between good and evil, and within its own, divided the natural order. And it laid within the core of Dictum's harbored soul. This was his Darkness, his unholy decree. Without it, none would exist. Each would come differently, whether in wrath, sloth, pride, or lust, just to name a few. But without Sin, without Defiance, it would slowly slumber. And in Dictum's Sin, came it's knowledge and why Chaos chose him as a vassal, a seed sown to harvest. Combined with Wrath and Madness, it would only bring intensity. 

 

"Glaoim ar na cinn lena bhfuil m'anam ailínithe anois, agus ceangail na rópaí a cheanglaíonn.Trí Bhás, Chaos, Am agus Spás a ghlaoim ort! Mar is toil liomsa beidh sé!"

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

As the ritual continued and the trio of Sith chanted in unison, the crimson orb intensifying as each added their offering. A sacrifice made to assist and help bind their souls. Akheron looked as if in some kind of trance as the crimson orb crashed back into the bowl and lit aflame with the same icey blue of pure Darkness. A Darkness born of Chaos opening up and the veil slipping open as their souls astral projected into the hellscape. Their bodies surrounding by something akin to dark, crimson cacoon that now connected the three temporarily. Floating and pulsating with Darkness but yet they were not wet.

 

The others were likewise forced by this Darkness into a similar trance before the room in which they had found themselves disappeared, blurring from view. In it's place the trio of Sith found themselves again inside the hellscape beyond Death. Inside the realm of fire and ice that was Chaos itself, where the dead never slept and sought escape eternally.

 

Here they would face a test of devotion to the Darkness and to the binding of souls. One essential for the binding.

 

Here each would face a illusion of themselves in a form at their greatest potential had they chosen another path. A reflection based on the choice of choosing Light over the Darkness they currently possessed. 

 

For Akheron his illusion took the form of a pacifist monk, free of Wrath and a enlightened Warrior dedicated to the Light.

 

For Dictum his illusion took the form of A Jedi Knight, pure and stoic.

 

And for Aeon/Solus illusion of what he would be without his Madness having control, a scientific scholar of some sort. 

 

Each was a reflection of one possibility of a future for each of them for as ever the future was ever changing. And even more so as with all things in terms of the current hellscapbe in which they resided, all was not as it seemed. For this as with all here was a distraction, meant to ensnare and focus attention for many souls approached, drawn by the living. Seeking to take their bodies for themselves, these souls would attempt to rip and tear at the three. A test to see if they could see through the deception, surrounded by the illusions the realm of Chaos brought and endure long enough, to maintain the anchor between realms long enough for the binding to complete it's task. 

 

It was the first of two such tests. 

Edited August 15, 2023 by Karys Narat iv-Adas

[Solus]

Aeon awoke. He found himself in blackness, disconnected from his chassis. His crystalline form was nothing more than a rock in space, lines of thought dancing blindly and wildly inside. No dim stars in the sky pierced the dark, nor did any hissing buzz of nearby electricity touched his magnetic senses. At the moment, he was alone, a still geode floating in an infinite void.

 

Aeon did not scream. This void was not like previous voids of not having a body. It wasn’t like before when he was cut off from his family. The air felt fuller around him. It wasn’t the cold vacuum of space, for there would’ve been stars or gasses or something. And beyond all that, he could actually ‘see’ the darkness, despite having no eyes or sensors to speak of. 

 

Hello? Aeon resonated into the abyss, unsure what was happening. 

 

Ah! You are finally here! Come, embrace my form! Let us communicate fully! Something resonated back. 

 

Aeon paused at the response from the darkness. There was something familiar about the thing that resonated back. 

 

Embrace your form?

 

Yes! Oh wait, you don’t remember how to do that anymore, do you… I suppose it has been a long time for you to remember that. Stretch yourself out. Open yourself, and then cast yourself out, like how you would into the Geometries. 

 

Aeon paused again. How do you know about the Impossible Geometries?

 

Once you do so, you'll understand

 

Aeon stopped talking and began to do as the thing instructed. To his surprise, the lines of energy inside his body escaped his body. Much like the lines of envy escaped into  the Geometries before, so too did his lines of thought escape into the void. The lines dashed and darted in all directions until they bounced off something. Something hard. Aeon refocused himself. His lines of thought barraged the hard surface he found. Like fingers grasping blindly, so too did the lines ‘feel’ around the shape. It was polyhedral, but it continued to morph over and over again. At moments Aeon was sure it was a cube, only for him to discover new corners had been shaped out, creating a sort of  rhombic triacontahedron, only again for a moment later for some of the corners to disappear, creating a tetrahedron. 

 

What...what are you? Aeon resonated as he continued to ‘feel’ the shifting shape. His frustration was starting to build as he repeatedly had to rediscover new edges and vertices. 

 

Don’t fret! You’re almost there. You are just getting through my outer shell. It's complicated, but necessary. Think of it as a test of will. Push yourself now! Break through!

 

A line broke through the invisible polyhedral. A crack of some kind, not formed by Aeon’s actions. Aeon focused all his thoughts on the one spot, driving each line of electric thought into the shape. Whoever, or whatever, that was inside would be known to him. 

 

A soft, warm glow broke the darkness. Aeon’s lines connected with something new, yet old. Something foreign, yet familiar. A crystalline body, with cracks and lines of energy dancing inside it..

 

You’re me! Aeon exclaimed. 

 

The other Aeon laughed. Yes! Well, mostly yes. I am Solus, and you are Aeon! Haha! It is so good to connect with you! Oh my, it's been forever since we’ve done this, hasn’t it?

 

Yes… yes it has been. Aeon mused over what was said. Not since we were with our original family. 

 

Yes. Normally we’d have to be physically touching, but… well, not to sound cliche, through the Force, many things are possible. 

 

Aeon’s lines released Solus and began to feel the shape that surrounded Solus.

 

What is this? Why does it keep changing?

 

Oh, I call it my shell, though the Jedi call it a ‘holocron’ casing. 

 

Holocron?!? Aeon responded almost violently. So you are nothing more than an object? A tool?!?

 

No no no! Not at all! I am still me! There is nothing artificial about me like usual holocrons. I’m not just some gatekeeper. I am the tome, the key to the tome, and the guardian of the tome. The Scholar of the Impossible. The Student of before and beyond. I remember all, and learn all. Like you, I am timeless. 

 

But… you’re a holocron?

 

I use the casing of a holocron. One that is my own creation. It helps others connect with me if they think of me like a holocron, but it shifts over and over again to represent my thought process. I analyze and memorize everything about them, and in turn, they can study everything I have ever studied or seen. With my connection to the Force, I have a near limitless storage of information, and everyone I connect with not only helps them grow, but helps me grow as well. 

 

You… what? 

 

Like a holocron, I am a library of information. But unlike a holocron, I continually learn from everyone who interacts with me. I am alive! I study people and their experiences. As long as there is life, I can study and grow beyond my limits. 

 

But…you’re a tool. A slave to other people’s uses…

 

Solus tsk tsk several times. The shudder Aeon felt at the Solus’ resonance was indescribable. 

 

You see things much too limited. That is the problem you have right now. That…blackness in your very shard. Madness is what you call it, right? A funny name. There are much better terms for it I think. You think of it as freeing, but instead it’s shackling your mind. You cannot see things correctly anymore. It's like… it's like a grease smear on a focusing lens. That Madness prevents you from seeing things correctly. It's impossible to see things correctly now. 

 

But if you want, I could help you.

 

This last statement made Aeon retract suddenly. It was unexpected, even from another version of himself. A free offering of help. 

 

What do you mean help me? How could you help me?

 

The Madness inside you? It can be purified. Many Jedi Masters have done so with other variations in the past. If you allowed me, I could attempt to purify the madness from your very soul. 

 

Wait, but you are me! How can you purify me when you don’t even exist?

 

Solus laughed heartily at this comment. The lines inside his Shard pulsed and bounced with newfound energy. 

 

Who says I don’t exist? In the Force, there is no time. No beginning, no ending. Just the Force. Am I just a hypothetical version of you, or perhaps you in the future, reaching back to heal myself? Or perhaps I'm just a reflection of something inside of you, given form in the void. Either way, does it matter? No, no it doesn't. 

 

So, will you allow me to heal you? Will you try to become pure of the Madness that haunts you? 

 

Aeon paused in thought, momentarily disconnected from Solus. His own thoughts, separate from Solus, raced around the Light-sided shard. Solus seemed to wait patiently, an air of calm in the midst of a storm. 

 

Finally, Aeon’s lines reconnected with Solus again. 

 

“Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” Solus exclaimed as his own lines of thought began to intertwine and mingle with Aeon’s thoughts. “Come! Let us begin…”

 

Aeon felt a glimmer of joy inside himself.  The sensation of having another Shard, even himself, in full contact with his being was rapturous. All other feelings Aeon ever experienced in the past paled in comparison. If Aeon was organic, he would’ve termed the sensation as orgasmic. It was the climax of all sensations a Shard could’ve experienced. 

 

“Yes! Yes yes…” Solus commented, seemingly feeling the same thing Aeon felt. “Now..let me begin-”

 

Solus cut off suddenly. Aeon’s lines of thought became thicker and thicker, sending more and more energy towards Solus. The Light sided being’s lines of thought tried to pull away from Aeon’s, but Aeon adjusted  his frequencies at the right setting. The two were becoming inseparable, and Solus was becoming larger. 

 

“What…what are you doing? Are you…feeding me?” Solus began to frantically wonder out loud. 

 

“Yes, that’s one way of looking at it…” Aeon smugly replied. “You see, you are nothing but an illusion. You might try to claim you aren’t but you apparently forgot or don’t realize that I deal with illusions constantly. Spiders crawling in the walls. Dragon’s swimming in the clouds. Moans in the darkness,  gurgles in the waters… I deal with those all the time. I know illusions, you puny pale puzzle of pontification! And you are nothing more than an illusion!”

 

Solus gasped as more energy flowed into him. But…you are making me stronger? Why? I don’t understand…

 

Aeon laughed. “Come on, I thought you said you remember everything! Don't you remember what lessons I received at the Temple? The Temple taught me to embrace my illusions. True, they meant for scaring other people and infecting them, but here the logic still stands. I am embracing you, and giving you some of my life!"

 

But why?  Solus asked again.  

 

Haha! Oh this is very amusing, watching you trying to understand with your limited intellect. Your puny insignificance amuses me! You see, another reason I know you aren’t real is that you can’t sense those souls that are approaching me and my fellow Sith. If you were real, you would sense that danger. Hell, maybe you'd be able to sense my fellow sith! Or even my true intentions! However, you can’t, because you are nothing but a falsity.  But rejoice Solus! By giving you some of my life…you will sense those ghosts that approach. Hell, you will be able to feel them! But most importantly...

 

Aeon had to pause to snicker once more at the false Shard known as Solus. 

 

They will sense you.

 

No… Solus' cold realization vibrated across the abyss, becoming a beacon for those hungry ghosts on the material plane to swarm.

 

Don’t... you don't have to do this...

 

Aeon laughed again. Do try to scream as much as possible when you are getting torn apart please. It will help sell your likeness. You may be just an illusion with a semblance of life, but you are also my bait, and i expect you to do your best at dying

 

Good bye Solus! It was nice talking to you! Aeon resonated into the abyss, barely audible over the terrified screams that helpless Solus was now making. In the material plane, the image of the Scholar Solus took form, floating in the room. Like the illusion Aeon faced, it was screaming. 

Edited August 15, 2023 by Solus

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

To call Dictum's Chaos a Sin was merely an afterthought, a means to describe what it essentially was. And while most Sith took the persona of a sin, Dictum was the embodiment of it. The embodiment of its original form. Wrath was a sin embodied by Akheron, and it was its purest form, anger and vengeance culminating into a blossoming bloom of pure rage. Dictum could feel it encompassing his emotions even as the realm of Chaos began to intertwine with that of reality. And Madness was a simplistic form of Pride, the unreasonable denial of truth and acceptance. It's effects could be seen through his mind's eye as the visage of Chaos became their reality in a blurred resonance. But Dictum's Chaos, his Sin, held true to its envirtuous truth.

 

To stand upon the precipice and gaze into the realm of Chaos was to see the truth of reality in an uncomphrensible way. You could see its reflection mirroring the real world but in a twisted and malevolent way dependent upon how you perceive reality. For some, it is as simple as light and dark, or even heaven and hell. But for Dictum, it was both and neither. It is said that through Chaos, Order, or rather the need for it, is born. But it is simple and complex all in the same token. Where as Life is tamed and bridled by the choices and lessons made within, Chaos is unbridled and wild, choices nor lessons made and all perceptions envisioned within. It is infinite with the knowledge and perception of finite, and nothing is unknown in the knowing. Chaos simply is.

 

For Dictum to stand opposite the illusion of himself in the Light, and Ōk to stand opposite of Dictum in the Dark changed little about each other save for the obvious choice either had made. Both would have lived the same life and went through the same hell that the real Dictum had until the moment that the Force changed everything. It was in its knowledge that both would change either for the better or the worse. It mattered not which side they served, for the Sin of Knowledge was still branded upon their shared souls and both understood the concept of what Chaos was in both the Light and Dark sides of the Force. Their singular difference was but a choice. For Ōk, it would have been Order and the subservient need for it. And for Dictum, it was Chaos, unbridled and free. Outside of that, there were no differences between reality and illusion.

 

Because of this, there were no words needed to be spoken, no duel needed to be had. Both understood the reality of their interaction and both with a smirk upon their slightly differed veiled faces, both nodded to the other. In the sense of Dark and Light, both were but apparitions of the same soul. Both were selfless, both were loyal, and both were appallingly brash. And both would have sought out their perspective paths to understand their Father and when the crossroads came to pass, left him behind to pursue their own. And as the souls began to attempt their feast upon Dictum's form, Ōk simple walked past Dictum and dissipated into the artherium of the veil between life and death as the Force surrounded Dictum's unconscious form to shield it from the hungered souls.

 

Ōk Rägnär simple was who he was, whether Light or Dark, and even an illusion of himself would know this singular truth. In all realities of every universe across the cosmic multiverse, Ōk would inevitably take up the mantle of Darth Dictum and his decree would be one of Chaos' singular truth. That in the natural order of life and death, there was a time and place for everything and anything. Where the Force was Life, Chaos was Death. And every beginning must have it's end. Dictum's Decree would be that End.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

While Akheron had expected something, he did not anticipate facing himself or rather a variation of himself as he could of been or had the potential to become should he choose to forsake the Darkness. A Tsis Warrior, free of the darkened skin and signs of corruption, holding what appeared to be some kind of staff and clothed in brown and white. Full of the Light. 

 

It was a sight that both surprised and yet sickened him all at once as he cautiously approached. For he knew who it was standing before him, he knew himself even with the differences of appearance and soul. Much like Dictum, Akheron and Trodai both looked at each other, smirking. Each aware that no matter the choices, slight as they were each were destined for their current direction and path and no matter the changes. And yet even still Akheron stood despised and disgusted at what he saw, viewing the apparition as nothing but a twisted, weak form of himself. A variant too weak to accept the power inherent in his blood and rejecting the symbiotic nature and relationship of the Darkness within even despite the risks and price. 

 

He accepted the fact he would inevitably be consumed eventually but such was the nature of Darkness and the Fanged God. To refuse and reject what fate had instilled in his blood was to reject part of yourself. Or so he thought and so he did what he thought necessary. And struck down the apparition in his disgust, affirming his loyalty and destiny to the Darkness. 

 

As the apparition vanished into nothing, fading from existence to reveal the hellscape and the twisted souls attempting to take his physical body, Akheron struck at the restless souls keeping them from his form. That was until again the physical and spiritual realms twisted and folded into each other for each of the three Sith. 

 

And another test awaited. 

 

In front of Aeon now stood a darkened version of himself. His inherent Darkness taken from and the cultimation of the aspect he represented. His ultimate form if he continued along his current trajectory. His Madness taken form and taken him over. 

 

Dictum likewise was faced with his ultimate form, his Darkness taken form and showing him what might happen if he continued his path. The crux of the aspect he represented and of himself, his potential reached.

 

Akheron likewise faced his own ethereal and ultimate form. His Wrath and Rage at it's apex, and what would happen if he continued. Scarred and filled with a Darkness that was unending, a Wrath and Rage for all Life.

[Solus]

Still a floating crystal in the void, Aeon heard the call of the Madness first. The wet chewing and crunching noises of it reached invisible ears Aeon didn’t realize he had. The gurgling and bubbling of tongues in languages unknown resonated inside his very crystalline form. And the growing beat of something throbbing  in the darkness.

 

Drawing on his experience with his previous, still screaming illusion, Aeon stretched out his ‘brainwaves’ into the void. However, instead of escaping his body, the lines bounced right back. Surprised, Aeon attempted again and again. Repeatedly, the lines bounced back. Something was trapping him. 

 

“What in the Force?” Aeon resonated, confused and slightly scared. 

 

Aeon began to feel the heat on his form. Something was pressing against him.  Something was growing around him, encasing him inside itself. Was this a reflection of what he had to do to connect with the previous illusion? 

 

No sooner had this thought occurred, the ‘thing’ began to enter Aeon in its own way. The cracks all along Aeon’s form were being filled in with something thick and wet. Sinewy lines of something were breaking and crawling in, stretching out in Aeon’s ‘brain’.

 

Aeon’s lines finally touched one of the droplets and felt a surge of power. Like connecting with the wires of a chassis, so too had Aeon connected with these clumps of nerve tissue. Senses returned to the Shard. 

 

In the depths of space, Aeon looked over himself with his numerous eyes. This form was certainly different. All of his previous chassis had been humanoid, or vaguely humanoid. This was spherical, and had no discernable movable limbs, save the millions of tiny root-like feelers that would sprout and regress back into the body. The pale white translucent, rubbery flesh was smooth and slick compared to the previous conjurations the Madness had generated. 

 

However, Aeon could feel things inside his body as well. Underneath the flesh, between the capillaries and veins, billions of relatively tiny creatures crawled about, carrying on numerous tasks. Aeon could feel their thoughts and emotions. Anger, panic, envy, superiority were amongst the most prevalent with them as they worked, lived, breathed, bred, grew, and died inside his body. Aeon would focus on one creature, and feel it fall over lifeless as its essence was sucked in the Shard’s own. But rather than turn on Aeon, the other creatures simply disposed of the dead body and continued on.

 

“What is this?” Aeon wondered. Surprised, he felt all the beings inside stop and ask the same question simultaneously. They were connected to him. They were of him but at the same time separate. Living vats of knowledge that Aeon grew inside, and then drained them when he needed to. 

“What am i?”

 

As if to answer his question, an object in space appeared. A small blue planet.

 

The body shook, and began to move towards the planet, as if movement was unnatural for the form. Aeon felt shooting pains all throughout his body, but before he could scream, the creatures inside began to soothe the flesh, appeasing him like they would a child. All the while, Aeon approached the planet. 

 

It was here that Aeon realized the scale of what he was. The water-filled planet he viewed had several moons orbiting it. While the planet was massive for  most worlds, Aeon dwarfed the moons easily.  

 

“I am…a world? Yes, a world…” Aeon voiced through the billions of creatures inside of him. “I am… celestial! Ascended! Haha! Like Betelguise of the Ebon Star, or the Death Star of the Empire, so am I!

 

On the planet’s surface, Aeon could sense life. He could hear their thoughts as they went about their business. Fear was rising amongst them as Aeon approached their planet they called home. They had noticed their moons had already begun to succumb to Aeon’s gravity, wobbling out of synchronized orbit as a sign of the impending apocalypse. They sent out messages to all regions of the galaxy, but no one heard their pleas for help. The people below were helpless to Aeon’s form. 

 

“I can feel them… can they feel me?” Aeon wondered. 

 

The beings inside Aeon all froze at the question. As one, they began to chant words mixing both ancient Sith and Cthol. The world before Aeon shuddered in the Force as the Darkside wrapped around it. Madness took control. The beings of the world began to scream in terror as visions of vile things arose all around. In blind panic, the populace began to tear themselves apart. Neighbor killed neighbor, friend mutilated friend. The mother’s smothered the children, and the fathers carved themselves up in terrible delight. The world’s sanity had been broken, and now it had entered an aeon of madness that would only end with the coldness of death.

 

Aeon cackled madly. The billions inside of him danced and celebrated with their god as the world was plunged into chaos.

 

“I am all powerful! I am not only of the Madness, I AM THE MADNESS! I am the Madness incarnate!”

 

Aeon continued to laugh, even as the creatures inside stopped dancing and began to sooth Aeon’s body again. However, they began to whisper independent thoughts now. 

 

“Surrender to it, great one! Surrender to this vision, and be forever this way.” 

 

Aeon stopped laughing. 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The beings inside continued to coo and caw their deity as they explained. 

 

“This is a vision, oh great one. It is unreal. You are not this powerful and you know this. This apex of your power, it will possibly never exist, even if things go your way. But here, it is real. It is real, oh great one. Surrender, and you will be this way forever. Give in, let the Madness fully consume you here, and you will never be weak. You will always feed, and you will always kill. You will drive entire worlds insane like just now, and even the mightiest Sith and Jedi will crumble before your mind. Even the dead will scream from the Madness you will become.”

 

Aeon considered their words. Everything they said was true. This form, illusionary as it was, was perfect. He was a deity. He was the full culmination of the Madness, with powers that rivaled any other living thing in the galaxy. 

 

Aeon shuddered. As tempting as it was, this was not reality. 

 

Aeon focused and began to scream. He had to break this illusion away and focus on reality. The dying world, the billions of beings inside Aeon, the flesh planet, and space itself fell away. 

 

Aeon’s droid body came to life as he returned to reality. The illusion of the Scholar Solus still screamed before him, but the ghosts had now realized their target was a fake and were turning their attention to Aeon’s actual body. 

 

Aeon reached a metal arm out as the ghosts approached to tear him apart. 

 

“Uoy ekat ssendam tel!” Aeon shouted. Reaching into the Force, Aeon felt the attacking souls and infected them with the Madness inside himself. The ghosts screamed in pain as their undead minds were invaded, before turning on each other like those beings on that fake planet Aeon had witnessed. 

 

Aeon chuckled as he watched the ghosts literally tear themselves apart. 

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

To walk amongst Chaos was to accept fate and coincidence as two halves of the same token, where nothing could be connected and in it's madness, create the direction. This was what it was like for these three of the Unholy Trinity. The Jedi were beings of fate, destiny, and it's ilk. But for the Sith, those who chose to be Harbingers of Chaos, fate was what you forged of life and coincidence, the chance presented a means to an inevitable ending. This was usually true for all whom knew and embraced it.

 

But the reality of Chaos stood more complex than what the average mind could hope to comprehend and Chaos differed for each. This was the reality of Chaos. It was the natural opposition of everything. It was death for life,  it was dark for light, it was hysteria for order, it was coincidence for fate. Even as the trio treaded within it's realm, this truth that had held a grasp upon Dictum resonated within them all. Even as Wrath and Madness resonated within Dictum, a symbiotic coinhabitation of their joint souls as the ritual progressed.

 

So when the apex apparition of Dictum chose its time to step forward and meet him within the realm of inconsistency, the two held a similar smirk as their thoughts met. Much like with the lightsided version, there wasn't really much to separate the two outside of choices and the paths that laid to their foundation. Only this one held the same foundation and inevitable outcome that Dictum walked with outstretched arms. He was Dictum, and Dictum was he, both born of the Chaos they accepted, separated only by time it's self. In a realm like Chaos, this held very little meaning except to the realm of reality.

 

Lightsabers ignited as the blackened blades drew in the surrounding prismatic lights that gave vision and the aura of the surrounding air grew cold and dense, heavy with the natural presence of the Stillblade Crystalis. One stood a Master and the other a Lord, both content to truly divide reality from chaos and present the seeds that had been sown. There was no need for this, but neither cared nor worried. This was simply their nature, only one more refined than the other.

 

As the blackened blade clashed and smirks turned into smiles beneath their shared masks, the apparition was the first to speak, his voice elder and corrupted by the arc of time that separated his own reality from Dictum's truth. "It has been a long time Lord Dictum. To be so young and spry again would bring me such joy."

 

Releasing his blade from the drawn connection, and providing a brief distance before Dictum's form shifted in all directions at once, he responded as blades once again drew toward the other. And so would such power to I. But we both know that each has a place and point in its own time."

 

As the spar continued, each toying with the other,each testing the other's true limits both in action and in thought, neither truly wished to overcome the other. For this was the first time Dictum had met his older and stronger self and the other merely wished to see which aspect of himself that he stood before. For in this game of cat and mouse, the moment and revelations were the true goal of each.

 

"We both know which is the strongest, the more in tune with Chaos and it's true purpose." The older Dictum spoke as his form dissipated into the netherrealm of shadows, only his tone echoing across the vast void that was Chaos. "And yet, we both know that means little in this moment of time. Neither of us would wish to know our lives before our given time."

 

"Then why tease me with the opportunity to question your reality?" Dictum responded in kind, his blade arcing over his backside as the older Dictum appeared and attempted to strike him from the rear just as one of his hidden blades came from the opposing direction in Dictum's turn and blocked in kind. 

 

A laugh erupted as the older Dictum withdrew. "For we are Chaos. And in Chaos, we are meant to sow discord and disruption. Only through the veil of truth, can men discern the lies they tell themselves, even for us."

 

Dictum stops his progression and genuinely ponders the moment in which the elder had spoken. "And what would be our lie?" He poised suspiciously. 

 

The elder Dictum chuckles, but does not laugh, as he deactivates his blackened blade and Dictum does in kind. Removing his mask, the elder reveals his aged face and scars too numerous to discern his true identity beyond his sole presence. "That Chaos is the finality, and our just decree. We are no more than mere Harbingers of the Dark, wanton death and destruction our sin. We may have found purpose in Inmortos, but we were never free. Search your Wrath and Madness, and you will know this to be the solemn truth."

 

A smirk erupts as he sees Dictum begin to question everything, and in his moment of weakness, the Elder Dictum made his final charge to usurp Dictum and claim his reality for his own. As the two souls intertwined and struggled for solemn control, truths and lies both became apparent. Madness was abound in the Elder, corrupted entirely by the void of Chaos that sowed his heart, and Wrath was enraged within Dictum as he learnt of Scorpio's survival when his father perished upon Tatooine. Memories from both would bind and twist in the chaos of the moment as Chaos tore open a larger void within the reality that was Dictum. And as the Elder was rejected by both Dictum and Chaos, Dictum was left a smoldering husk of himself as Chaos became his reality.

 

With an echoing laughter, the Elder apparition faded back into his reality, his purpose fulfilled. Enraged by his cousin's survival, collectively bound to the Elder's maddening reality, Dictum stood alone in Chaos as the revelation of the blended fact sunk into his very core. He could feel its reach folding into @Solus and @Karys Narat iv-Adas as his reality settled. And in that moment, Dictum laughed. Chaos was more than it seemed.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Akheron looked upon the newest apparition, acknowledging it's presence and what it represented. He smiled knowing full well it's Wrath for it was his own. Albeit more refined and destructive, representing the apex of of what he strived to be. What he was destined to become. And yet he knew it to be illusion of Chaos and not his true form.

 

As the Chaos within grew he accepted it within, holding and binding it to himself and his Wrath and the Madness born of Lord Aeon, twisting into one thought, like a game of tetris each piece become one and slotted into each other in unison. Pieces of a puzzle that although separate shared many similarities and were one. As he did this the illusion of his ultimate form screamed in agony as it was torn apart by the event. As the physical and spiritual became as one and entwined in symbiosis. With a final movement the true Akheron, or his soul split the illusion asunder and in two allowing him to take on the real threat of Chaos.

 

The souls of the damned threatening his physical body.

 

Without hesitation he acted, enraged and his Wrath on full display. Wrath empowered further by the Darkness and the binding of Chaos and Madness to himself. As he finished his own trial, he noted how the others had also accomplished and defeated their own challenges. With that all three were suddenly dragged back to tell living world, the cold of the altar room and reality of what was real. In that moment the cacoons they had been in cracked open and was absorbed into each, as the tentacles of Darkness wrapped and gripped their souls, disappearing upon their return. And with their disappearance, each was now bound to the other, the ritual complete. Each could in a way feel the binding, the new deeper spiritual and physical connection. 

 

As each was connected beyond the physical.

 

The orb dissipated and disappeared as the bowl stopped smouldering and the blue flames blew out. Akheron spoke.

 

 "It is done, we are bound as one. You may do as you wish, I must rest after the ordeal...it takes a toll upon the anchor in such a ritual."

 

He acknowledged each before heading out, seeking to rest his spirit and body for now. To prepare for the next task, to return to his own ship and make something fitting for his change. Not a lightsaber, no he wanted something else. Something more visceral to feel up in the flesh of the enemy and contain his Wrath. A picture begun to take shape...two swords but first he needed materials only he had. And so he would need to wait until they arrived, for it would take another toll, 3 days of toil to create what he wanted. Such was the price and one he would pay willingly.

Edited August 25, 2023 by Karys Narat iv-Adas

[Solus]

When the blue flames went out, Aeon seemed to shake himself further awake. The ritual was done, and he could feel it. His soul felt different. It was an esoteric sensation, but it was there, like the wind in the trees or the waves in the water. He could feel the touch of Korriban stronger than before. He could sense the sensation of chaos eating at the edges of his mind. 

 

“Oh my oh my!” Aeon chimed, tapping on his head “What a strange sensation, don’t you agree gentlemen? Ah, yes, yes i agree Lord Akheron, rest does sound needed at the moment. I do need to recharge my batteries, and honestly, I feel strained beyond most capabilities. Rest well, my lord! Rest well!”

 

Aeon turned and faced Dictum and examined him more closely, adjusting his sensors like the glasses he often pretended they were. 

 

“I must admit lord Dictum, when we first met, i never imagined i would commit such a ritual with you. You came off as slightly ignorant in my opinion. But let me say, your words of wisdom have shown themselves fully, and the sensations I am feeling that I can only attest to your participation is intriguing. Whatever my thoughts about you in the past, our paths are now tied with Akheron like the rings of Geonosis.”

 

“But I am curious, my friend…” Aeon continued. “I can sense Chaos and the rage of Korriban stronger than ever thanks to your participation.  But what is it that you se-”

 

Aeon was cut off. His voice box broke into a shrill of static and broken pitches as the body fell backwards, violently twitching and shaking. Aperture sensors rapidly opened up and then closed over and over while joints bent backwards into impossible positions. Most organics would’ve described this as a chaotic power surge for robots, or a epileptic seizure  for humanoids. 

 

With the recency of the ritual complete, it was entirely possible that Dictum and Akheron would have seen and heard what Aeon was experiencing in his mind. These hallucinations that occurred were of the Temple of the Spider. The halls darkened and seemed to stretch into infinite corridors. Monotonous pipes filled the air alongside long guttural drones of deep voices and thrumming of drums. Spider webs began to form at the corners, only to stretch across the walls.

 

“Disciple Emlesh Beosta” A reverberating voice rung out. 

 

From the twisting shadows, a cloaked figure formed before each person. Floating several inches off the ground, the figure was unnaturally tall and twisted over. Neither its face nor its hands were visible, and its chest seemed to wriggle with untold life underneath its robes. 

 

“Emlesh Beosta, we call you to the moons of Yavin'' The voice continued to reverberate as Aeon continued to seize and scream uncontrollably. “A gift awaits you and your companions. Seek ‘The Iron Net’"

From down the hallways came screams and roars. Giant monstrous things began to emerge, dragging themselves on carapace legs. If they were seeing the hallucination like Aeon was, Akheron and Dictum would feel numerous tiny insects crawling on their arms and legs. The hooded figure opened its robes slightly. Instead of a body, there were only worms piled on top of each other in the vague shape of a human chest

 

“The Iron Net. The moons of Yavin.” The figure reverberated one last time. 

 

Then, as suddenly as it began, the hallucination ended. Aeon stopped shaking and regained control of his senses, though he did not move for a period of time. After a few moments of silence, Aeon did finally sit up. 

 

“Oh my, my apologies, I must have had an episode. But that felt different than usual.” Aeon looked at Dictum again. “Did I sense you in that hallucination? Did you hear and see what I saw?"

[Lord Ōk Rägnär]

Dictum's laughter echoed from the precipice of Chaos back to the mortal realm of reality and his form slumped to the ground, reborn from the chaotic cocoon like the undead Dathomir Nightsisters, as he slouched in resonance. Even as the others spoke, he reveled and revered in the moment from wince Madness, Wrath, and Truth became his reborn vision, letting its mindscape flow into his being as a rancor does the fauna within their territory. And when he stood, he rose a differed being behind the Mask of the Undead. His tone deeper and darker barely muffled by it, he replied in kind.

 

"Rest if you wish," He began, his words carrying an almost maniacal undertone as he spoke from behind his chosen veil. "But I am rejuvenated by Chaos, bathed in it's...."

 

Before Dictum could utter another word as Akheron departed, Lord Aeon dropped unconsciously upon the floor as the resonance of Chaos flowed viciously around the trio. He saw what Aeon saw, he felt what Aeon felt. But for Dictum, there was little to no effect transpiring from the veiled realm of the Shard's chaotic mind. He simply existed in the moment upon a separate but leveled resonance. 

 

"Once we are done with Zoist, we shall venture to Yavin. If Chaos has spoken this, we shall heed its becon." Dictum spoke with a quick vindication, the realm of Chaos residing in his soul permeating as a percolator as their conjoined souls began to resonate as one. "As it is decreed, so shall it be."

 

Letting his words linger but for a brief moment before he let his gaze fall upon Aeon in an acknowledgment of his words before Chaos' call. For where Akheron would feel Madness and Chaos, and likewise, Aeon would feel Wrath and Chaos, Dictum had become Wrath and Madness. Beneath his veiled face, the echo of the unholy trinity would display the changes taking place within the Miralukian's eye of his mind. Logic had become corrupted, almost religiously so. And conviction had become a death sentence for those whom found themselves as opposition. But more importantly so, truth was what Dictum willed it, half harbored and half distorted.

 

It would be the will of Chaos, no matter the outcome. As the Crown of Shadows fell upon his form and engulfed him, he retreated, leaving behind the duo to contemplate this reborn reality and revelations. Meditation was needed to center his soul.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

As Akheron finished speaking and traversed the moving ship, come fortress of Inmortos he felt and experienced the hallucinations. Visions from the Madness of which he now in part shared with Aeon. A side effect of the ritual that had bound them together. He heard the words and listened, intrigued by what they meant. Knowing it however was of the Darkness and in part the Fanged God too.

 

He wondered what it meant...to seek The Iron Net via the Moons of Yavin. It would require some research and as such he sent a com-link communication to Aeon.

 

 "Lord Aeon, I ask a favour. No doubt you like I saw that vision, I ask while I rest if you would research into this for us...find out what is meant by The Iron Net and how this might relate to the Moons of Yavin. Perhaps in that we may find answers to this riddle. Hopefully by the time we arrive above Ziost you might have further insight. Let me know then if you could brother. Until then Lord Aeon, may the unending Darkness guide us all."

[Mavanger]

Captain Ralos was uncomfortable with the presence of the Sith sorcerer on the bridge. Them man twitched uncontrollably, his face and body constantly contorting as though he were constantly withdrawing from death stick, or some other more nefarious drug. He had introduced himself as a fulgurmancer, capable of helping track down her missing leader. Darth Mavanger had left them nearly two years ago, after he had slain the Empress Raven and cemented himself as one of the foremost Sith in what little of the Empire remained. He'd finally dropped out of contact with the remaining Sith a few months ago.

 

At first, she'd hoped he was taking the time to finally center himself after her predecessor's death, and retreat from the Sith politics. But as the time drew on, and she'd heard whispers of his death, she knew that wasn't the case. That was when the Fulgurmancer had revealed himself, telling her that he knew where to find her fallen general. It was an offer too good to be true. She knew the prices Sith extracted for their services, and she had no intentions of delivering her commanding officer to such a man. Another coughing fit wracked the man's body, and she glanced at him, half worried that he'd short circuit the entire bridge now that they were in deep space.

She'd changed her tune when the new Dark Lord had disappeared as mysteriously as she'd arrived. Without her, the Sith were scattered and alone, being picked off one at a time as the Jedi and Sovereign Knights worked throughout the galaxy. If the Sith had any hope of rebuilding, they'd need a strong leader. A Warmaster. It was then that the Sith spoke.

 

His voice was like the whisper of static, the first time she'd heard it since she'd welcomed him aboard and he'd told her to focus her search on the hyperlanes between Falleen and Carida.

 

"We're close. I can feel his rage even from here."

 

That was all the evidence she needed.

 

"Launch the fighters and the transports. He's close. Once you find him, bring him aboard and give him plenty of space."

[Sheog the Mad]

A message arrives for Darth Mavenger via secure commlink 

 

Spoiler

Contents: 

 

 

 

[saberforce]

Tros stood within the general mess hall of the Raven's Bane along with a few other of his trusted vod. Kot'dral, the leader of the Zealots amongst them. Sutu Skoss stood closer to Manda'lor the Zealous over any other though. His armor clad in red and silver, with his buy'ce adorned with the wolf eyes and the crest of House Solus upon his upper left chest. He leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone. "Why him?" Tros turned his head ever so slightly to look at Sutu before he turned back to looking out the viewport. The stars echoed to him, and spoke of many possibilities. As he stared, he took in a deep breath before he responded. 

 

"Mavanger is a warrior. One who has fought many battles and wars. The Sith have remained quiet for far too long. If we are to remained paired within this alliance... " He turned and looked at Kot'dral first before turning to Sutu. Outside of the man, the rest with him were the Zealot's under Kot'dral. Known for their lack of T-shape visors and beyond aggressive stances, they were the backbone of House Solus. They came with Kot'dral unless Tros ever asked them to remain behind. But since they only ever got deployed on missions critical to the House... and this was critical to the House. 

 

"... We need to place a leader on the throne who will not only help us grow as a culture, but will also be a strong ally." He now took a few steps away from the group to deeply stare out into the stars, using his own HUD to scan for the remains of the fallen warrior. "And Mavanger is that warrior. So we will be here and an aid to him in getting to the throne of the Sith."

[Mavanger]

The troops in the mess hall around Manda'lor the Zealous and his people had shown them comradery thus far. They'd served alongside Tros and his warriors several times, and had seen firsthand their abilities and their commitment to the cause. Captain Ralos also knew that Tros had been a trusted associate of Darth Mavanger, and had asked him so accompany her vessel in their search. There was a familiarity among the troops that came from sharing a cause, and from the bonds forged in war. This was the strength Darth Mavanger had fostered- Where other Sith Lords had fostered paranoia and competition, Darth Mavanger had always sought to unite the Sith war effort under a single unifying plan. That had been what made him so successful in the Outer Rim, what had made him a beacon for the up and coming Sith Lords, and had made him a stalwart ally to three Dark Lords so far. 

 

One of the shock troopers, an elite veteran of both Nar Shadaa and Naboo, approached the table. He gave the ruling mandalorian a sharp salute before speaking.

 

"Manda'lor, your presence has been requested in Hangar A1. We have him"

 

__________

 

The shuttle that carried Darth Mavanger was an older one, likely left over from the days of the Empire's control of the galaxy. It had seen conflict after conflict, it's old hull marked with every fight it had seen. The hangar had been emptied save a select few people- only those that Captain Ralos felt she could trust. Herself, her second in command, the Sith Fulgurmancer, and a squad of troopers loyal to only her and the man being brought in. All that remained was to wait for the Mandalorians to arrive, and see what the Fulgurmancer had planned once the shuttle was opened. In truth, their presence was more for Darth Mavanger's safety than her own- If he came back to life like he had on Naboo, he'd be most vulnerable right after, and if the Sith who was present was looking to pad his portfolia with the slaying of the Sith Warmaster, she didn't want to be the one who gave him the key.

[saberforce]

Tros turned and looked at the trooper who had approached. He felt like he had served with him before, or at the every least saw him frequently upon the battlefields fought with the Sith. With the hard salute, Kot'dral stood fully at the ready for whatever words the solider had for them. Upon getting the word that they had Mavanger, they group moved to the hangar as requested. 

 

Upon arrival, the group slowed down as they approached the shuttle. All seemed to hold a sense of weariness over the fact that the Sith would still be alive, on such an old ship of all things. Only Tros, Manda'lor the Zealous showed no signs of hesitancy and took off his buy'ce, tucking it under his arm as he squinted his eyes an some attempt so see more of what the shuttle could mean. He took a moment to look over at Captain Ralos, whom he did remember exactly interacting with her a few times. His eyes then darted over to the Fulgurmancer, to which he gave a sharp eye to. The gaze held no fear or worry, but more of a 'prove it' type look. At this point, Tros was risking his entire future on Mavanger's return. The Fulgurmancer would either prove him to be wise or a fool. Now was the time for it to come to light either way. 

[Mavanger]

As the last of Darth Mavanger's closest allies and followers filtered into the room, the fulgurmancer shuffled forward, his body wracked with a fit of coughing as though the very notion of physical activity gnawed away at the man's corrupted and twisted flesh. He looked around, a wicked smile having taken residence upon his face. The fallen Darth Mavanger's body was carried off of the shuttle by no less than four troopers, struggling under the weight of the already large man's weight bolstered by his sithsteel armor.

 

"Good, his body is intact. Even now, long after death, I can feel his rage. His hatred. His power. It is but an ember now, but it can be... re-ignited, so to speak, given the right catalyst."

 

He placed a hand on the corpse's armored chest, breathing deeply as he began to chant. It was quiet at first as he wove his dark necromancy into the body. It was a talent he had hidden until this moment, though it didn't surprise Ralos. She had always assumed he had some way of reviving her commander. His chanting grew louder, and the smell of sulfur wafted through the hangar as the necromancer channeled his power into the body.

 

Even though she expected it, it shocked her to see Darth Mavanger's eyes open once more.

 

_____________

 

The first thing Darth Mavanger felt when he resurrected for the second time was the Force. The smothering blanket of rage and fury that perpetually burned within his soul.

 

He had been so close to oblivion.

 

So close to all this hatred being forgotten, lost forever.

 

So close to true freedom.

 

To peace.

 

And yet, as he began to take in his surroundings, he knew that he had lost his chance. His ploy had failed- The Sith had found him even in the deepest, coldest vacuum of space. He looked upon the man who had brought him back, the blackest rage he'd felt in years filling every fiber of his being as he began to move, sitting up.

 

"Darth Mavanger, Warmaster of the Sith, I command you to kneel before me"

 

Darth Mavanger felt the trick as the command was spoken- The necromancer hadn't just brought him back, cursed him once more with the rage and anger that had become his very nature. He had woven a dark magic into the spell he had used to do so, one meant to control his body and his will. He rose, turning to face the man. He felt the confidence of the necromancer falter as he rose to his full height, wordless. He took a step forward, and the fulgarmancer took one back.

 

"I command you to kneel, Darth Mavanger!"

 

The first thing that the Warmaster had done when he rose had been to shatter the frail bonds the necromancer had tried to shackle him with. The spell had been meant for weak willed corpses who couldn't fight back. When faced with a Sith of greater power, who's very presence in the Force ate the light. Wordlessly, he lunged, grabbing either side of the man's head, pressing his thumbs into the other Sith's eye sockets, feeling the man's eyes give way to his gauntleted fingers. The man tried to grab the Warmaster's wrists, to send his lightning through Mavanger's body, but to no avail. He let out a panicked scream as Darth Mavanger's grip tightened.

 

"Never again shall I kneel to another."

 

Blood and viscera and brain matter sprayed across the floor as the Sith's skull gave way to Darth Mavanger's hands, imploding with little resistance as he threw the now lifeless, still twitching corpse to the ground, breathing heavily as he looked around.

 

"Anyone else?"

[saberforce]

The sheer display before Tros was something beautiful. Not really the Force or its resurrecting power. But the grand sheer will of the warrior before him. The Fulgurmancer weaved his power and then attempted to hold his own will against Mavanger's now restored self. His death came at no surprise to Manda'lor. As the warrior now wondered who else might challenge him, he could feel the rest of his vod tense up. A slightly head turn to acknowledge what he could feel from them, he then turned and withdrew his beskad within his only free hand that wasn't holding his buy'ce and held it up. 

 

As eyes drew upon him and the Zealot's tightened up, a smirk came to Tros' face as he now turned to lock eyes upon Mavanger. He let his full mind and emotions be open to the Sith before him. The only Sith he would now fully follow to any war and death. He then slammed the beskad into the ground point down, followed by a quick motion of him taking a knee. With pure conviction within his voice, and with full authority as Manda'lor, he spoke. "Mandalorians follow you."

[Mavanger]

In truth, there was only one warrior amongst those gathered who could hope to defeat him. His eyes found Tros Ardell, Manda'lor the Zealous, the last true son of the Crusaders. The legacy of the Mandalorian people, his title bestowed by Terra herself. He knew the threat this man may have posed. For a moment, he wondered if the now dead Sith had brought him here as protection, insurance against Darth Mavanger should the bonds prove ineffective. If so, the man had underestimated his own ability to survive close quarters with a warrior.

 

He braced himself for combat as the Mandalorian warriors surrounding them stiffened, his eyes meeting those of the Manda'lor. And then, the man kneeled. He offered his service to Darth Mavanger, an unwarranted pledge of fealty and loyalty. And he remembered what had driven him before Nar Shaddaa. Before Naboo. The pride he felt at leading warriors to their victory, at a campaign well run, and well earned victories. 

 

Tros Ardell had pledged himself in hopes of reclaiming those days, and he would not be disappointed.

 

"Rise, Manda'lor the Zealous. As long as you are my ally, you will stand on your own two feet, as a warrior. As a Mandalorian."

He looked around the hangar, spotting Captain Ralos. So she was the one that was responsible for this. His faithful captain, unaware of the position she had inherited. Loyal to the end. She must have spent many months looking for him, judging from the appearances of those around them.

 

"Captain, head to the bridge and prepare for a hyperspace jump. You'll have a destination once I am caught up on the state of the galaxy."

 

He looked at Tros, nodding. "Walk with me. It would do good for the troops to see me alive once more, and you can inform me on the current state of the Sith. Most importantly, is the plan working?"

[saberforce]

Tros stood, putting his beskad away, as it was no longer needed. He wasn't very good at using it anyways. A good old sniper riffle would suite him a whole lot better. It was a symbol, one that he knew his vod understood, and based upon the words he received from Mavanger, he understood the importance of the symbol as well. As orders were given rather matter of fact, he placed his own buy'ce back upon his head. As a warrior himself, he felt it was his way of relaxing with the Sith before him. He lifted his hand to signal for Sutu to remain with the Zealots, who had already taken a step back and fell into a more relaxed position, but not following. Kot'dral knew his place well. 

 

"Unfortunately the state isn't as you'd expect. When that Sith woman drew everyone to Ziost... there many remained, and disappeared. The silence and lack of movement was driving me insane. It's why when I found out there was a plan to find you and bring you back... I wanted to make sure of it's success. The Sith need you." Tros turned his head ever so slightly towards the hallway that the two were walking down instead of half looking at Mavanger. "There is no plan being executed. Not outside of my own. And I must admit that mine is very selfish, as it's only seeking to restore the power of the Mandalorians to be a great warrior race that owns Mandalore again." The words spoken out loud were something he didn't think would be spoken outside of his own warrior council. Yet, the state of the galaxy almost demanded that he make such a claim out loud. 

[Mavanger]

Hearing the true state of the Sith drove a dagger of loss into his chest. Everything he had fought for, and his worst fears had come to pass. The Sith had scattered, and their feigned defeat had become a true one. His worst fears, that Nyrys's plan would lead to the Sith Empire's downfall, had come to pass. What that meant for him remained to be seen- He knew the Sith needed real leadership, strong leadership, but it wouldn't do them any good to splinter here and now. He needed a plan.

 

"What of Darth Calypso? She proclaimed herself Dark Lord, and she had the power to back that claim. She will be a threat to my leadership if she decides to oppose me."

 

He was quiet for another moment, before broaching the rest of his thoughts.

 

"We'll need to find the remaining Sith ourselves for two reasons. The first is to declare my new position, but also to rally them and give purpose and direction. If you aid me in this, then when we crush the Sovereign Knights and their puppet empire, I will give you your wish. The Mandalorians will be whole once more- You will hold Mandalore, and your people will be vassals under the Sith Empire, free to recruit from your own and enforce your own laws so long as you continue to the reigning Dark Lord."

 

He knew the implications of his words- If he were to be usurped, or defeated, or replaced by another Sith, Tros's loyalties would likely remain to the throne. But that was the Sith way- To take power from those above, and if he were to tie Manda'lor's allegiance to his occupation of the throne, it would put the entire future empire at risk of collapse without the support of the military arm. No- When he was slain, and another had taken his place, they would have the support of the Mandalorians so long as they both respected this deal.

[saberforce]

Tros kept his own thoughts to himself at the inquire of Darth Calypso's whereabouts. He didn't know her personally, and she made zero effort to connect with the Mandalorians upon her taking the throne. While she made a huge display of power before the Sith gathered, she had not been seen since then. Or at least stayed well hidden from his own scouts and informants. For all he knew she could have been killed off by someone who was too afraid of the consequences of their actions and disappeared. The only thing he knew for certain, she had not been seen in a long while, and the Sith have fallen off the radar. As an ally, at least one had always assumed he was for the past 2 before Calypso, he would have assumed there would have been more contact to the major plan. Not just hiding away. 

 

The words utter by Mavanger next after he was silent upon the gap left in his absence took him a bit by surprise. He was flat out offered up the chance to be allies of a different sort. To be their own people, but to almost extend the kinship of vod from Mandalorian to Sith. The return favor seemed simple. Almost too simple. He wondered what sort of catch there would be to fully lock in such a strong alliance. Granted, neither side was all that strong currently. Scattered and divided on both ends. But upon merging and rebuilding, the two allies could become a deadly force upon the galaxy. If he turned down such an offer, he would be a fool, even if there was a catch to it all. 

 

"You have my word, House Solus and all Mandalorians who follow it's banner will aid you in this and be a trusted forearm to carry out this purpose. Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it." Tros knew that Mavanger may not know the exact words spoken at the end, but he knew that the warrior was smart enough to realize it was something important, and it was important for Manda'lor to seal the pact with the honorary words. Truth, honor and Vision were all things that seemed to be clearly laid out between the two. 

[Mavanger]

"Then the pact is struck. May neither of us break it, for the fate of both our peoples rely on our loyalty."

 

He let the reality of his new position set in for a moment. He hadn't always seen eye to eye with Dark Lords in the past, from his disagreement with Nyrys's plan to open defiance against Exodus after Kuat, but he had never proclaimed himself one. At best, he was stepping up to lead a Sith Order that was rapidly spiraling into nothing. At worst, he was declaring open rebellion against the reigning Dark Lord. But it couldn't be helped- The Sith needed strong leadership, and they needed it now. If Calypso had gone missing as her compatriots before her, then he would take up the mantle, and he wouldn't relinquish it until he was dead, either at the hands of a Sith looking to take it for themselves, or the Sovereignty and the Jedi looking to quash the head of the Sith.

 

"If we are to do this, we need a plan. You said the Sith are scattered- I may still have allies among them. I fell in defense of Darth Akheron's world, he would be a good starting point. Are there any of your people we should visit to solidify this alliance, and to solidify your hold on your people? I know the Mandalorians are no strangers to marching to war, but we may very well be asking them to march against former allies. Will that be problematic?"

[saberforce]

Tros pondered for a moment as faces and names flashed within his mind. The only ones that he wondered of loyalty in fighting were Delta, whom he had reports was now living on Concord Dawn an as exile. Terra and most of her followers went into hiding after Nar Shaddaa. So in many of his own regards, there wasn't much in forms of resistances against him as far as he was aware. He slowly shook his head towards Mavanger. "No. The Mandalorians that follow will follow me to the death. Those that don't follow are either in exile or hiding, or haven't found their way in support of Manda'lor the Zealous." 

 

Turning to look back towards were the rest of his party that now awaited him to join them or get beckoned to join were his faithful crew. His team that would light the way if he was unable to do so. He then turned back to Mavanger. "Upon more victories, it will act like a lightening rod, drawing more to the cause."