"Another failure, Master."
"Yet now we see the facial features take shape. Continue modifications to this genetic strand."
"As you wish, Master."
This was perhaps the tenth subject that had been born and swiftly died within the tank, though at least this one seemed to have developed its limbs properly instead of being twisted into some horrid creature who knew little more than pain and suffering. This clone had not gained consciousness, instead dying a peaceful death, entirely free of the knowledge of its creation. Cloning was a new science to the Dark Lord, but gene modification and Sith alchemy were not. It was simply a matter of application; trial and error were to be expected when one first began to master an art.
Still, events were accelerating, and Nefaron needed to plan accordingly.
The Dark Side grew in strength with each passing day, and the Corpse Lord felt it most keenly in the presence of his Apprentices. Veradun, a newly anointed Dark Lord, hungered for ever more power, to be let loose on a galaxy that did not expect one so eager to spill blood, to raise statues and banners in his own honor rather than his Master. Eurydice proved to be more of a challenge, yet even she grew in power as she delved ever further into the black arts of the Sith. IT would not be long before the Corpse Lord needed to give them a new goal to turn their attention to, lest they plot a coup or gain silly notions of Rebellion.
The High Republic. As long as it stood, the Light had its champion.
But how to go about it? War would certainly come, but there were other ways to destroy the corrupt Republic. Deception and trickery would do just as well as a legion of troopers, and the Terror Lord had just such an idea in mind, though it appeared that it would take some time for that idea to bear fruit.
"Continue testing. Inform me of any further progress."
"As you wish, Lord."
Yet the Corpse Lord did not leave the chamber; instead, he approached a large console that held, suspended and climate sealed, a lock of golden hair. His pale hand was quick to snatch but a single strand, leaving the rest to provide the proper genetic source for his continued experiments.
Still, it was time to remind the Kinslayer that she was not safe, even in her quiet moments.
Leaving the cloning chamber in the heart of his fortress, Nefaron adjourned to a separate chamber that held a large dish on a stone pillar, surrounded by even greater pillars with various ruins and incantations of the Sith. Into this dish he placed the strand of hair, but a sacrifice was required for the ritual. The Corpse Lord was quick to slash his own hand, his vile blood drowning the golden strand while dark power gathered in Nefaron's fingers. Once a sufficient amount was given, foul lightning leaped from the Corpse Lord's fingers, and the dish sprang to life, red flames bathing the blood and granting Nefaron the opportunity to peer into the dreams of a distant foe.
He could not kill her. Nor could he harm her physically.
But he could certainly turn her dreams into nightmares.
Perhaps he might drive her mad.
What a wonderful thought.
Corazona von Ascania | Veradun Sharr | Eurydice
But he could certainly turn her dreams into nightmares.
Perhaps he might drive her mad.
What a wonderful thought.
Corazona von Ascania | Veradun Sharr | Eurydice
