A Body at Rest...

[Darth Narakada]

Mustafar, 836 ABY, 1,406 years after the entombment.

Within a cavern, buried in Mustafar's deepest caverns, there lay an altar. An altar at the surface. But if one looked deeper into this "altar," they would notice a small switch. The switch was rusted with years of corrosion. It was in the shape of a skull. The switch was placed there if the ones who placed it ever desired to come back and release from the ground, a living weapon that had once attempted to destroy an entire species. The reason they put it there? It was trying to destroy them. It's creators.

The altar was a guise for a Force entombment that would open a hole in the ground and out of it would rise a warrior in ancient armor. His name was - is - Nar'vash Ver-Sha. An ancient Dathomirian that was locked away due to his destructive behavior. Ultimately he was forgotten. But he was preserved in pure Force essence. It kept him in a semi-conscious coma. Allowing him to think, to plan. Over 1,000 years and things were ready. He. He was ready. Thus he waited.

The Force whispered to him. His day was to come.

@[member=Isley Verd]

 

[Darth Metus]

The Force was as enigmatic as the Galaxy was enormous, and its providence caused many an individual to cross paths. Chance and Fate were but abstract concepts that mortals weaved in a vain attempt to grasp the mystery of the Force's whims; but to no avail. Some decided to simply ignore the ebb and flow of the Force and go about their days blindly, yet the Mandalorian known as Isley Verd allowed it to direct his footsteps. This day, it brought him to the strangest of locations: the volcanic world of Mustafar. The Force had plans for an intersection of two lives, yet the Mandalorian was blissfully ignorant to this fact. As such, the beskar-clad warrior disembarked from his vessel and began to stride across the rocky terrain of the world, utilizing the skill Tapas to keep from boiling alive in his armor.

For several minutes, Isley strode along, following the will of the Force all the while...until his eyes fell upon the sight of a rusted skull. It was the most out of place thing to see in such an environment and beckoned the Mandalorian closer. The years had not been kind to this level and the alter, for it was covered in rust and ash; and warranted the utilization of the Force to move. With but a wave of his hand, telekinesis gripped the handle and pulled it back, releasing the locks that held the coffin in place. It was time for the Mandalorian to become the subject of the Force's providence once more...it was time for Isley to meet his new apprentice...

@[member="Nar'vash Ver-Sha"]

 

[Darth Narakada]

Deep within the confines of Nar'vash's sleep, he felt a rumbling. Rising above the ground, a diamond shape box rises from a fabricated hole that opened in the ground. Swirling with green from ancient Force magic, it looks as if it were a phantom-ish box. It stops, hovering midair in front of the Mandolorian that released it from the ground. And it was then and there, that the Force finally revealed all. With a sharp burst of air, the diamond splits evenly down the center across the entire object. From it falls a man clad in armor.

Slumping onto the ground, there is no movement. The shape lays there. But not much time was wasted for Nar'vash to come to reality. He was free. Untangling himself slowly, he winds up on his stomach. Slowly he brings his arms into a push up position. Luckily, through the imprisonment, basic Force skills didn't go away, because he needed them now. His muscles were giving out on him. Summoning the Force to his aid, he got up to his knees and then onto his feet.

With his full posture erect, he looked calmly over his surroundings before resting his eyes - or where they would be under his mask - on the figure near the altar. "And to whom do I owe this pleasure?" His voice rumbled deep and slowly, being that it was the first time haven spoken in a good while.

@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Frailty.

There was always an unfortunate side effect to being sealed away for an unspecified span of time. The body, when lacking proper means of sustaining itself, grows weak and feeble. Such facts unfolded before the watchful eyes of the Mandalorian as the occupant of the diamond coffin was unceremoniously deposited upon the ashen floor before him. Isley made no attempt to assist the man to his feet, as pride was something that the Mandalorian was aware of...and valued. He would not lend a hand to this fallen man; for in order to be sealed away, one must have had the strength necessary to warrant such an event. As such, with immense curiosity, Isley watched as the cloaked man rose to his feet through the Force and folded his arms before his chest when he had fully risen.

Upon being met with the simple inquiry, the Mandalorian decided to humor the ancient individual. A cool smile formed upon his lips, shrouded from view by the helm of his beskar'gam. His voice, low and the definition of menacing, sounded with a metallic edge through his visor in response. "There are many names that the Galaxy knows me by...but you may refer to me as Isley." then, the Mandalorian decided to address the elephant in the room. "And whom might you be...and how did you end up imprisoned?"

@[member="Nar'vash Ver-Sha"]

 

[Darth Narakada]

Speech was a gift so often overlooked. It was expression, communication, understanding. It was what every creature in the known universe that has the ability to use it, usually so desperately wants to. But decade after decade, Nar'vash had little use for it. Now it was time to exercise his brain. "And you may refer to me as Nar'vash. My full name though, is Nar'vash Ver-sha. My imprisonment came about for a few reasons. Many of them metaphorical and many of them symbolic of nothing. But the one true reason is the fact that I attempted genocide."

"My creators deserved death. I was delivering it when they had taken it upon themselves to deny their fates. They trapped me and left me here. Why that did not kill me, we may never know." His entire speech was drawn out and meticulously thought out as he said it. The sounds emanating from him came slowly with a slow, but sure purpose. "But now I must know, for time is not a thing I have had much concern over for a while, how long has it been since the Utor Shock?"

@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

The Mandalorian listened intently to that which the being before him spoke. Obviously, there was great power residing within this individual, for his adversaries had seen fit to spare his life and imprison him as opposed to outright killing him. The rules of warfare all but dictated that grunts were the sort to perish, not be meticulously handled in other means. The tale that was spoken alongside this explanation shed a little more light on the situation, as in order to attempt genocide, one must have some form of power to be able to do so. And as such, the lust of the Dark Side manifested itself in the rear of Isley's mind. Ever seeking to add such power to his own, whether directly or through loyalty, the Mandalorian decided to "befriend" Nar'vash.

"I see," he began, carefully considering his words before uttering them. "I can only hope that you succeeded in sending many of them into oblivion before being sealed away. Now then, to answer your question..." Isley broke off, doing a little bit of quick math before saying, "the Utor Shock took place approximately fourteen hundred years ago. The year is now 836 ABY: After the Battle of Yavin 4. The Utor Shock took place roughly, six hundred years before the battle of Yavin 4. You have been imprisoned for quite some time."

@[member="Nar'vash Ver-Sha"].

 

[Darth Narakada]

Nar'vash felt a sense of unease fall over him. Over 1,400 years of being trapped in there. "Hmm..." His thoughts turn over in his head slowly, attempting to try and piece together what he would do now. "And those forsaken Dathomirians. What of them? Where are those terrible creatures now and how are they doing?" During the Utor Shock, Nar'vash was still with the Sith lords that had originally been his caretakers. It was a battle he studied to expand his knowledge on war tactics. But now, to find out how long ago it was. He needed to learn how the galaxy was faring now. That was the first step. But not here.

"Do you have a place we can go to discuss things more comfortably? I'd rather not standing in the middle of this sweltering place." In truth, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was having troubles standing, he needed to move, to get the blood flowing again. He called his saber to his hand from the ground behind him and placed it on his belt.

@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"The Dathomirians still live, now as apart of the Mandalorian Empire." He began, motioning for the liberated being to follow. To say the least, Isley was in the same boat as Nar'vash, for the swelling heat was beginning to become unbearable. Beskar had that funny way of making heat seem hotter and already the Mandalorian was fresh with perspiration. The liberated being did not have to ask the Mandalorian twice, for he gladly began to lead the way back from the diamond-shaped prison towards his starfighter. "We can talk about my vessel, it will be significantly better than this." He commented along the way.

Then, carefully selecting his words, Isley began his own set of questions. "What would you like to know about the current state of the Galaxy? I can give you a brief overview of all you...missed."

 

[Darth Narakada]

Of all the thing Nar'vash could talk about, he wanted to know who was in power. Despite having missed wars and revolutions and all the other horrid things that sentient beings tend to get involved in, he wanted to know who to make allies with. "I would like to know of many things. But there are priorities. When I left off, the galaxy was more or less in a static state." Taking time to collect his thoughts as they walk to the ship, he continues, "But I suppose now I would like to know who - or what - is the biggest position of power? Has the galaxy fallen out of Republic hands?" Being that he missed over a century of stuff, this was the simplest thing he could think of. Other things would come later.

To amend, he finalizes with, "Who should my friends be?"

@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"The Galactic Republic is one of the more powerful factions in the Galaxy, as it was the forerunner in the destruction of the Sith Empire only months ago. The Mandalorian Empire and Fel Imperium both assisted in this venture, and are both exceptionally powerful nations as well. However, my preference for friends is the Confederacy; in particular, the Templar Order. We are a relatively new Order and are a haven of training and growth. As you are just now emerging into the Galaxy once more, I'd suggest that you and I become friends. That you and the Templars become friends. We take care of our own."

With that said, the arrived at his starfighter and the Mandalorian opened the rear-most entrance. Filing within, he took a seat in the cargo hold and motioned for his guest to do the same.

 

[Darth Narakada]

His boots clanked against the metal of the ship and he took a seat, finally able to rest, he let the Force go, not needing immediate help to move his muscles. "Very well," he replies as if it were a business agreement. "At one time, I had the power to attempt genocide. But since my imprisonment, my skills with the Force and saber combat seem to be missing. I haven't tried to hard, but I feel...less...than I used to be. Long story short. I don't like it. How would this be fixed?"

@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"Your skills have, as is to be expected, waned over the centuries. You will need diligent training in order to gain them again. If you so choose, I can assist you in this endeavor; as well as impart to you knowledge that I possess. In brief, I shall take you as my Apprentice and see to it that your power is restored. What say you?" There was no need to be anything but blunt; as far as the Mandalorian was concerned anyways.

@[member="Nar'vash Ver-Sha"].

 

[Darth Narakada]

"This offer is pleasing. Luckily, the forsaken witches left me with my saber, bless there souls," his dark humor comes off in his voice, with thoughts of the future that lay in store for the ones who made him into what he is today. "Back when I was a dashing young lad, my creators taught me their ways - their magic," his voice was once again monotone, business, "I should like to learn it again, despite my hatred for the blasted creatures. It was, or ought I say is, powerful and tangible. I should like to learn it again. Yes, that sounds...optimal." His voice trails off in thought, letting silence reamain.

@[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"I surmise from this point forward, I shall be Master Verd to you..." came the response of the Mandalorian. With his words punctuated by a bemused chuckle, he motioned for his newfound apprentice to take a seat in the co-pilot seat and turned in his chair, setting his attention upon the console before him. With but the flipping of a few switches, he brought the vessel to life; causing its engines to roar. "By witches, you mean those residing on Dathomir? Or was there another sect during your time?" he inquired, pulling back upon the flight stick in order to guide the ship into the heavens. It responded with swiftness, lurching forward and penetrating the atmosphere with an impressive pace.

[member="Nar'vash Ver-Sha"]

 

[Darth Narakada]

Nar'Vash looked over the controls very studiously, letting silence sit between them as he took in the buttons and switches comparing new technology to what he knew of. Not too many changes to his pleasure. There would be upgrades and things of that manner for certain, but it seems he would have no trouble flying a ship when it was that time. "Do say, master, where do we begin henceforth?" Many things would need to happen to allow Nar'Vash to re-adapt to the newness of everything, and he would leave the order of that up to his new found master. He closed his eyes and ever so slightly relaxed his body, which was much needed, after the strenuousness of the recent reawakening.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"We are bound for Roon." came the answer of the Mandalorian. His fingers quickly keyed in the destination within the Hyperdrive computer once the vessel escaped the gravity well of the planet. From there, he slid the power lever forward and leaned back in his seat. Then came the fun part...with a sudden lurch the countless stars blurred into lines as the ship dove into the depths of hyperspace. Once there, Isley turned to look upon his apprentice once more. "There, we will begin your training. You will be provided with a dormitory to call your own, and we will begin your lessons once you are settled in. I will also see about securing you a suit of armor and a personal vessel. Any questions for me?"

[member="Nar'vash Ver-Sha"]

 

[Darth Narakada]

A hidden smile appeared on his face beneath his mask. "The armor will be unnecessary. What I have on is basic enough for most weaker weapons, and it is more or less sealed to my skin I'm afraid." He turned his gaze to look out the cockpit and watch the stars go by in a light show. "This training, what does it entail? I ask this with hopes that my burried skills in the Force are able to be realized once again despite the confinement. My memory says that I was quite adept with the ways of the Force and its magic." The masked man turned his head back towards his master once again, studying him with greater detail, putting his brain to work.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"Somehow or another, I'd like to make sure that you don't get sliced to ribbons by a lightsaber. The standard armor of the Templars affords such protection, but I think we'll just have to be created in your case." said Isley as he engaged the auto-pilot. Now it was just him, his apprentice, and hours to kill through conversation. Assuming a more comfortable posture in his seat, the Mandalorian studied the armored being and nodded along with his words. Then, he answered, saying: "The training would consist of a review to begin. We will take each step, as if you were a new Mage, until your latent talents reveal themselves and your current level of skill. From there, I will push you to your absolute limit and cram the knowledge of old down your gullet until your have ancient Sith spewing from your pores."

The sad part was, that was a distinct possibility

[member="Nar'vash Ver-Sha"]

 

[Darth Narakada]

An uncharacteristic, deep, laugh tainted by metal came from Nar'Vash, though it didn't last long. "Your analogies are...pleasing. But I see that that would be an ideal route to follow. Now, as for the armor, we could try re-layering the existing armor. I see that as a viable option." A span of time passed in which there was much conversation about the future and how Nar'Vash would make out with the Templars. "Land ho," Nar'Vash mumbles with dry sarcasm. The planet loomed in front of them, the look of it was much nicer compared to the desolateness of Mustafar. Sitting back into his seat again, he waited for his master to take charge and set them down.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"I'm glad you agree." began the Mandalorian as he brought the vessel about. "And as far as the armor goes, I surmise that is the best course of action. Once you have settled in, we will see about making it a reality." Though hours in length, the trip to Roon was spent in relative silence. Fortunately, Isley had the chorus of voices in his head to keep him entertained whilst the journey wore on. Upon dipping through the atmosphere, the occupants of the vessel would be greeted with the glorious sight of beaches, oceans, and tropical vegetation until landing upon a pad just outside of an impressive citadel. Isley set about turning off the engines and systems before rising to his feet, saying briefly: "We won't begin your training today, as you need rest. Our first stop will be the Infirmary. Several centuries dormant will see you weak to the diseases we are immune to, so you must be vaccinated; and you must receive proper rest before I set about instructing you. Understood?" With that said, Isley began to lead the way off of the vessel and out towards the towering gates of the Roon Sanctum

[member="Nar'vash Ver-Sha"]