The Sith of old enjoyed endless resources and time to practice their craft....

"Move it!" The rushing man shoved another pedestrian out of the way as he ran, nearly knocking them over in the process. He didn't care even on the best of days, he certainly didn't care now. He threw a glance over his shoulder in desperation, scanning the market that he was running though for any signs of his pursuer. In the crowds and bustling movement he couldn't get a clear look, and he certainly wasn't going to risk stopping just to look.

Already his pursuer had cut down most of his gang, he wasn't about to join them that easily.

Finally he made it to the alleyway and sprinted to the end of it. He fiddled with his key for a moment, still glancing over his shoulder, and managed to get the door at the end of the alley unlocked. He wasted no time running inside and slamming the door shut, huffing in exhaustion as he turned to look for the rest of his gang. The sight of their hideout made him freeze in horror however. The rest of his gang lay dead around the hideout, splayed out over furniture or slumped against a wall in a broken heap.

"Not to worry friend." Every muscle in his body tensed as he watched the red cloaked figure that had been pursuing him drop down from the ceiling, the masked figure standing and gesturing to his handiwork with a nod of his head. "These scum won't be missed." In desperation the gangster finally turned to try and unlock the door, to open it up and escape back out into the busy streets.

As he fumbled and failed to open the door, he started sobbing as he heard the footsteps of his pursuer draw ever closer. "You won't be missed either, will you?"

You? You will simply have to improvise until you're strong enough.

"Keep firing! Keep that piece of chit pinned down!" The guards complied with their orders and kept up their barrage of blaster fire until their guns ran hot. They knew that they would suffer the fates of their comrades if they hesitated. Keeping the intruder from entering the room was imperative, their evacuation shuttle was almost there. Their boss watched the city below with bated breath, hyperventilating and wishing that he had a slave to hand him something to drink.

Being chased to his balcony with a handful of guards left and all of his slaves running wild somewhere wasn't exactly what he would call a good evening after all. "Where the feth is that shuttle?!" He muttered impatiently, glancing back at the door to the balcony as his guards paused their fire to allow their blasters to cool. "Do you see him?" One guard peeked up from his cover behind a patio chair and peered into the now blaster-scarred doorway. "N-Negative sir." Another guard let out a sigh of relief, and even a light chuckle. "Think we got 'em? I think we got him!"

The boss rolled his eyes, fiddling with the rings on his hand nervously as his guards began to celebrate their supposed victory. He perked up when he heard the sound of his personal shuttle though. He turned and smiled wide as he saw the shuttle descend towards the balcony, raising his hands to wave it in as he felt relief and glee wash over him. And then the door to his shuttle slid open as the shuttle stopped at the edge of the balcony, two Sith Legionnaires of all things pointing blaster rifles at him. "Wh-What?!"

The slaver stumbled back and his guards were quick to whip around and take aim at the soldiers, but they all froze as they heard the sound of a lightsaber ignite behind them. Their intruder, cloaked in red and masked, emerged from the doorway unscathed and wielding a red lightsaber. "Almost got away with that one." He noted with a laugh as the guards turned back to aim at him. The Sith paid them no mind though, instead looking past them and nodding to the Legionnaires. "We only need the boss alive, kill the rest."

The materials you have already, all that you lack is the proper influence from the Dark...your own hatred would do fine, but I have an alternative you would enjoy...

"I have the money, I just need time to get it all-" "You've had time." The man winced at his employer's harsh tone, looking down at his hands as if he were a child being scolded. His boss stared at him for a moment before gesturing to one of his guards with a nod. "You knew the price when you asked for a loan. You knew what was at stake. Everyone has to pay in their dues." As the guard moved to grab the sitting employee, soon to be corpse, he was stopped by a noise from above. He looked up and let out a yell of surprise which drew the attention of his employer and the other guard, with him suddenly being engulfed in a flurry of lightning from the air vent and falling to the ground dead and charred.

"The feth?!" The boss shot up, not noticing the small sigh of relief that his employee let out. "Sorry sir, but he offered me a better deal." Rage crossed his features as he moved around his desk and grabbed his employee by the collar. "What did you do!?" The other guard rushed to his fallen comrade, drawing his blaster rifle and aiming it up towards the vent. Unfortunately for him he only made it to the body of his fallen comrade before a figure leapt down, wielding a lightsaber that cleaved the guard's head from his shoulders in one swift strike.

"He wanted to know who was the most corrupt and cruel tycoon this side of the planet...someone who had politicians and police alike in their back pocket..." The employee offered his frightened a smug, almost sadistic, smirk as the Sith approached them both. "Of course, I had to nominate my favorite boss."

Gather them up and bring them here. Show them their fate and allow the ritual to feed from their fear. Then you can begin crafting your artifact.

The pirate did little to struggle against his captor as the Sith led him forward to some unknown destination. Even had he wanted to fight back, and given how easily the masked man had carved through his ship's crew he wasn't eager to try and take him on alone, the blindfold and bindings keeping his hands from being used would make his struggle null and void. So he reluctantly stumbled behind the red cloaked murderer as he was pulled along. He did notice how they occasionally seemed to pivot as if to avoid something on the ground, and one misstep confirmed it to be a corpse. The corpse of one of his crew, of a friend or simple mercenary perhaps but one that was sworn to him regardless. And yet here he was, alive and well even with them all dead.

Thankfully he was shaken out of his reverie as the sound of a ship's airlock opening heralded the arrival to wherever the Sith was bringing him. The blindfold was ripped off and he was subsequently pushed inside of what he could only identify as some sort of shuttle before the door quickly slammed shut. "Ah, another one." The pirate struggled to sit up, confusion spreading across his features as he saw five others occupying the small cargo hold of the shuttle with him. Two of them looked absolutely terrified, another looked resolute and somber, and the last two both bore relatively fresh injuries and were unconscious. "Wh-What? What's going on? Who the feth are you people?"

The resolute man, some sort of gangster if he had to guess, simply shrugged as they all heard the sounds of engines starting up. "Victims of some crazed Sith, just like you. I'm guessing he killed everyone in his way just to drag you here?" The pirate gulped and nodded, his gaze drawn to the floor of the shuttle as he felt the small ship leave the hangar bay of the station. "He did. My crew and I were celebrating another successful shakedown of some merchant ship. We were having our usual fun in the club on this station and then...he just came out of nowhere and..." The other criminal nodded and sighed, gesturing to one of the terrified men with a nod of his head.

"Count yourself lucky, evidently he nearly ripped that one in two before he got him to the ship." The man nodded, wide eyed and breathing irregularly as if the mere mention of the event panicked him. "My guards-my poor guards! He just ripped them apart! He-He's a monster!" The other terrified man gritted his teeth and slammed himself into the bumbling man's side, the only thing they could do given the restraints. "Shut up! Lest you draw the wrath of that monster upon us all you oaf!"

The pirate looked away as the man simply starting whimpering and muttering prayers to some deity, instead turning his attention to the two wounded men with a nod. "And them?" Neither of the other men could give a proper answer, only offering shrugs and seeming to be just as confused as the pirate. "At a guess, they fought back more than the rest of us. Probably wanted to die swinging." The pirate nodded grimly and turned his gaze back to the floor.

Silence reigned for a few moments as all aboard felt the ship enter Hyperspace, finally the bumbling slaver spoke and broke the silence. "Wh-What do you think he intends to do to us?"

Most in the old times enjoyed rings, basins, other such focuses. As for you, I believe your focus should be something more...

Working delicately with alchemical tools and materials was as foreign to him as the Core Worlds. Perhaps even more so, as he had actually been on a planet before. Thankfully the tools and texts that he had gathered over the past year or so were right there before his very eyes and eager to help him. The basin itself was probably one of the most valuable objects he had in his little workshop, as it had been taken from a proper Sith Alchemy workplace. It was thousands of years old of course, but evidently the basic methods of enchanting and enhancing metal hadn't changed all that much.

Being that he was inexperienced and lacking in a complete workshop did complicate matters in another manner though, that being that the only way of actually getting the alchemical ingredients into the metal was to keep the metal itself in an almost liquid state. Were it not for the fighters that the cult had taken apart and scavenged for him, Alisteri had little doubt that he would even have the workshop in working order as it was.

It was inefficient and the engine that he was using to keep the metal hot enough made an annoying constant droning noise, but it was working. "You've used too much salt and dust in this mixture, it will never properly meld into the metal like that." He closed his eyes and let out a sigh as he stopped grinding the mixture into the mortar, turning to glare at the holocron sat upon one of the workbench's shelves. "You couldn't have said that before I started grinding this mixture for nearly ten minutes?"

A hollow chuckle rang out from the artifact, refusing to elaborate further as the Acolyte threw the mixture out of the mortar with a growl. The mess that he was making could be cleaned up later when he had more patience to do it. Almost thirty minutes and two additional ruined mixtures later and he finally threw the last of the ingredients needed into the vat of molten metal. The Acolyte sighed in relief as the alchemical side of his project came to an end, as well as the noise of the engine finally ending with it being turned off and put away now that he had no further use for it.

It did take some time for the metal to cool enough to solidify and then be pried out of the tank that he had been using to contain it, but thankfully it was all in one piece and went straight into his makeshift forge. Now the other half of his work could begin.


The sound of a hammer moving metal filled the cargo bay. Lacking any sort of actual machinery made forging, well anything he was trying to do really, wholly reliant on his own physical strength and thinking. Luckily for him, he had both an enhanced strength from his Sangnir blood and the constant influx of both tips and insults from his holocron. As well as a sturdy, hefty hammer of course. The alchemy workbench now sat in silence as the makeshift forge and anvil became his new focus and workplace.

Making a ring may be simpler than what he was attempting, at least in theory, but it was not befitting of him. Alisteri, for all his learning and attempts to delve into the mysteries of the Dark Side in recent years, was still very much a fighter and warrior more than anything else. A ring wouldn't help him in combat, but an extra weapon would. Normally he would make use of his vibroknife alongside his lightsaber if he needed two blades. And while he did have a fondness for it, Sith had long since outgrown simple weapons such as that. A dagger though would allow him to use his limited experience with his vibroknife effectively, and would serve as a good start for his new journeys into Sith Alchemy and forging.

Apparently Sith often crafted swords, but given his inexperience and lack of extra materials, he decided to start small. Perhaps someday I shall craft a sword, but not today. He mused as he watched the metal grow hot enough to strike before pulling it from the forge and returning to the anvil. It would be hours of work ahead, but as he raised the hammer to strike the billet once more that fact only emboldened him.

All the while his audience, the sinful and wicked men that he had gathered, would watch. He pretended they weren't there, and with them being bound and gagged there was little they could do to try and get his attention or get away. Even if they could somehow escape, the masked Acolyte knew that hey wouldn't be leaving the ship alive regardless.

Now Acolyte, the most important part of the blade making process...

The blade was roughly done, but after some filing and a bit of grinding it looked presentable. He had even went so far as to carve the Ur-Kittat word Wonosa into the blade. Both to symbolize his cult and himself, but also to spite his audience who watched him work in both confusion and terror. Here this Sith had dragged them from all across the galaxy just to watch him make a dagger? It made little sense, especially given his dismantling of their organizations in the process.

As he left the dagger in the forge to heat up he went and dragged the quench tank over and set it between them and the forge. It was hardly a fitting vessel for an artifact of the Sith, being made from the fuel tank of an old fighter that his cult had salvaged, but it would do. Notably, the tank itself was empty. "Now, I suppose it's time you all learned why you're here today." Alisteri approached the huddled group and smirked as they all recoiled from each step he took towards them. "You are all awful people." His gaze ran over their faces, drinking in the spite and terror that they looked back at him with.

"Slavers, criminals, and a corrupt businessman. Your crimes vary, but all of you share one unforgivable sin. Through your vices you have taken from good innocent people." The masked Sith slowly paced in front of the group, some of them still struggling to get free from their bonds to no avail. "Whether by enslavement, trafficking, or simple murder, you all stand guilty of robbing freedom and life from the innocent." His tone dripped hatred into each word, some of the group even wincing as the businessman began to weep. "But thankfully for you, I have gathered you all and deemed you useful for one simple purpose."

They all froze in fear as he pulled a small vibroknife from his belt, the forge reflecting off his mask in a sinister light. "To bleed."

Is the quench.

By now the blood had flowed into the makeshift quench tank, nearly filling it completely. This was risky even under the best conditions, but Alisteri wanted it done this way. To ensure that the suffering of the cruel souls took and remained. The quench may be uneven, the dagger itself may even crack and break right in half if it all went wrong, but he had steeled his resolve already. When the dagger glowed the proper temperature, he pulled it from the forge and held it above the quench tank. A moment of hesitation later and he plunged the glowing hot weapon into the blood, swirling the tongs that he held it with as he watched it carefully.

He didn't leave the dagger in the quench for too long, pulling the weapon out and quickly checking it with a file. Everywhere he checked was hard. Against the odds the quench had been successful, and Alisteri now had a complete weapon of his own design. It did admittedly require some refinement here and there, as well as a proper edge grind, but now he needed to temper it first and foremost.

As his dagger was tempering in his makeshift temper oven, he finally made his way back over to the glowing holocron that sat upon his alchemy workbench area. "I assume that it's good enough for an Acolyte." Alisteri watched as the relic exuded a dark black smoke, the mist coalescing into a small projection of a hooded figure that stood atop the holocron. "Good enough, yes." The figure let out a hollow chuckle but nodded in satisfaction. "You followed my instructions better than I thought. I had assumed that alchemizing the metal alone would have taken you several tries. Not to mention quenching it into blood, of all things."

The Acolyte shrugged as he sat down in front of the workbench and stretched. Hours of smithing and recreating alchemical recipes from scratch were hardly easy tasks after all. "It's done now, just needs the final refinement and it will be ready for combat." He felt confident in his work, and to his surprise the holocron said nothing to dissuade him from that. "You know Acolyte, a true Sith would have a good name for their weapon. Something that strikes fear into the hearts of their foes."

Alisteri watched the tempering oven for a long moment before he responding, nodding in agreement. "You're right. I think I'll call it...Soli Kraujas."