Private At the Edge of the Universe

[Desmundor Alcademon]

"There she is! Take her out!" the echoing voices of the soldiers clustered her thoughts, as the unsettling scent of the Dark Side grew the more she regained her conciousness. The memory of the force blade igniting from the long hilt, slashing back and forth in a chorographic manner, as the bodies of the raider warriors descended on the city's ground haunted her mind, refusing to let go of her final moments of battle. The burning of the blaster stunshots still steaming on her crimson skin. Out of reflexes, as soon as her muscles answer her call, she could feel the cold bite of iron, grasping around her already bruised wrists, held extended to the sides over her shoulders by the chains. Her back was freezing. Yet it was no natural feeling. She could sense that much. The touch of the draining essense that embued the wall where her bare back was put against felt like a vulture, feasting on her very soul. A thin mist of invisible essense was covering her, flying in its transparency towards the wall on her back. Painful. As if it was emitting from her very bones, draining her life essense. Weakness. After the years of training in the Dark Art, Kerressh had learned how to tame her thoughts to her will. All images casted in her mind that once gave her the unbearable feeling of regret, love, hate, anger; She had learned to join them together in a single coherent flow of pure emotion. What her master called "Passion". Feelings that many, like the Jedi, crave to be released from. Yet the Sith know better than to discard such assets... Such thoughts. Such Power. For when conjoined in a single entity of pure determination, the abyssal host of emotion is turned into a dreaded weapon of war. The Dark Side skills, the Dark Arts that the Sith creed has been preserving and nurturing for untold millennia.

Her iron bonds wrap tightly around her thin wrists. The blood from the scars they leave upon each of her motions drips down across the arm, all the way to the ribs, exploring the several black tattooes her exposed body carried. Ritualistic markings, proof of the Sith's devotion and initiation in the Dark Arts... Around her, the iron chamber is lit by the flickering dim light of the torch fire that burned near the wall. A strangest element to be found onboard such structure. The very trembling of the floor against her feet only further indicated the horrific reality: She was onboard their ship. The strange, dark warriors that layed waste upon the city. Relentless. Their might matching almost that of a Sith, to her eyes. They plundered, careless of what they left behind. A bloody Raid; Clearly no work of a Conqueror. And yet, these strange warriros, she had never seen before. Were they Sith? Heathen Priests, of the great Maw? She knew not...

"There is no Peace..." a deep voice comes from behind her line of sight, leaving a strange aura across the nearby deck, as its echoes repeat themselves like whispering imps in her ears... "Only Passion" the strange voice continued, reciting what seemed like the Sith Code. The ancient verse she had learned too, by heart. A demand of her Sith Lord master, as it was, according to him, the first and last thing a Sith must learn. A guideline, to the life in the Dark. A path to ascension. The ethereal sound of the stranger's steps brought him closer to the restrained Togruta. Approaching, her skin was embraced by the unnatural grasp of a grim aura. The very manifestation of the Dark Side, strong enough to be recognized by any who had felt it before. Stronger than her master's touch. Much, much stronger. The very flame of the torch danced in a rhythm of stress, as exposed to the touch. "Wise words..."

The pacing of the still unseen figure continued, as it felt like he was moving left and right in slow steps, right behind the wall that the Togruta was chained on. Any cloth, armor, or gear she might have worn was lost. Her very bare skin further strengthen the feeling of vulnerability her restrains created.

"You held no allegiance to that world... You had nothing to fight for there... And yet... You fought. slaying several of my warriors before you fell. Brave. Reckless. Many wished to grant you a warrior's death, as it is suitable for such valor. And yet... I sense that your path is far from over..."

His words followed by a whispering echo, clearly enchanted through the Force, giving the feeling of a demonic nature. Yet still, he would not reveal his form to Kerressh . Was this a test? Was it to grind her fears? None could tell for now...

"I reached out and saw. And yet I cannot help myself but wonder... Who are you...?"

 

[Kerressh]

She may have not known much, but one thing was clear, she was a hostage; and whoever behind her it may be, is seeking entrance into her mind. she was interrogated countless times in her sith days, and she knew the first sign of failure is opening your mouth and letting your tongue speak. the tongue speaks out of feelings, untamed by the mind. a scared tongue tells tales the mind wouldn't want to be heard. and so she remained silent, trying to gather in the surroundings and as much info as she could.

Her head still a little hazy from before. if only she could use the force...but she couldn't. she didn't have the strength, the feeling of being choked slowly surrounded her as she inhaled. but still, through the pain she sought pleasure---and as such, remained calm, collected, and most importantly, silent.

She started fiddling with her cuffs, seeing in which directions could they twist, hoping to break her hand in a certain way to free her arm; but it was all to no avail. whomever her captors were, she wasn't their first sith. no, no they were much more skilled. her cuffs too tight to prevent them being removed with the arms intact.

After her failed attempt at finding a way out of this situation, her best situation would be remaining silent, and meditating on the dark, asking for strength.

and so she did, silently meditating in her hurt state, like she was sitting on a comfortable bed.

". . ."

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

Theme

"Silence..." the dark voice sounds muttering, moments before lightning launches through the wall, all across the Togruta's body. Momentary, it would be, yet the pain caused would equal a billion needles piercing right through to the bone itself, in a burnin bite. Most would yield in cries of pain before one such touch of the Dark Side. Force Lightning was one of her master's favorite skills. It was, according to him, the very manifestation of the Dark Side. For one to bring forth such power without descending into madness, or even burning his own self, was to force dominion over the darkest emotions. Rage... Wrath... Short-living forms of passion were the demons that fueled powers of twisting nature. Manipulating the air, one could hold onto them to manifest the grim thoughts for his or her enemy... A Force Choke... A Crushing energy against one's bone... A Force Scream, strong enough to break any opponent...

These were all skills of the berserker... Not the Assassin... Not the Sorcerer, as her master was. You see, Lord Skotos ventured far deeper in the Dark Arts, for such mere skills to suffice. Tortured since childhood in the pits of Korriban, the very birthplace of the Sith, Skotos learned to abandon all compassion and regret. In such times of darkness, pain and malice, the power one could wield could be so massive perversion to the Force, it would be visible to the eye; A Force Lightning. A most destructive, and feared of the Ancient arts of the Sith...

It was a habit of him to have Kerressh meditate in shallow lakes, while he occasionally shot lightning at the water, effectivelly boiling her alive. Oh, she was more than trained to withstand pain. Abused as she was, tortured as she was, beaten as she was by her very master, Skotos had made certain she would yield to no interrogation. Ever since the beginning, he was planning her to become his greatest Assassin. For it was such, how he managed to gain power. Never did he have to face a foe. There was always... accidents...

As the lightning fades, the figure of the man appears, orbiting her without sparing a single gaze onto her smoking body. The man was covered by heavy red fabric. Several layers worn in an unbalanced manner. Each of the fabrics were framed by a yellow-golden color, while the majority of the surface was painted with numerous cultist tattoos and symbols all across the fabric. The only thing that was differenciated by the chaotic cloth would be the chestguard. A hardened durasteel chestplate, possibly the visible part of a powerarmor worn underneath the clothes. It bore carved runes on it, clearly enhanced by Dark Alchemy and witchcraft. The face of te man as covered by an ivory mask, holed only for the deformed frame of the eyes to see beyond, although these themselves were nothing but a fiery shard, behind a grim curtain. Long fabric lines hanged over and around the head in a strange, ill-wrapped manner, from the long horizontal obsidian spike hat pierced through the tightly wrapped fabric covered hair of the figure. His pacing heavy, with crimson energy emitting from underneath the clothes. There was no way to identify any racial characteristics. His long sleeves ended over the mummy-like wrapped palms, with alchemically forged long curved crystal nails fixed at the fingertips. He keps his palms before his chest, resting one atop the other, midair. Clearly, a habit for not cutting himself with the unnaturally long nails fixed on his palms.

"You are loyal... Taught to stand as stone, in the wind..." the strange figure intoned. "But why would you...? Power? You are a slave... Wealth? You never tasted possession... Faith?" he shook his head... is oriting pace soon drove him once again out of her line of sight...

"You will die, Sith... Do you know why?"

 

[Kerressh]

As the lightning made its way through her body, boiling every drop of blood or liquid it could reach from within her body, she was reminiscing about her past. a smile made its way onto her face as her lips stretched to the side lightly. it was obvious, pain would only cause her to grow more silent. She wasn't going to answer him, but his questions did proc her mind. made her think. why? well---it was quite simple. through the empire she inflicts pain and suffering. through the empire she gains strength and through strength she gains power. that's it--POWER. She is infatuated with power, and she's going to get as much of it as she can. not to prove anything no . . . just to make sure that when there's suffering and pain, she inflicts it. Of course, there were other benefits to power, such as gaining victory. Her personal favorite sith quote went 'Through victory, My chains are broken'. And seeing as victory is a bi-product of being more powerful of your opponent . . .

Of course she wasnt planning on saying anything. no no, she just sat there, looking around, meditating on the dark side, asking for strength. And both her and her captor knew one thing; It wont be long before she figures a way out.

Thus, the silence remained.

". . ."

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

Theme


"A waste..."

The dak figure intoned as he kept his orbit around the bound alien. His voice solemn and calm, regardless the burning aura that emitted from his entity. He stops, turning for the very first time to look the bound Togruta. His long nailed fingers motioning as if they had a life on their own, making slight movements around his wrapped palms.

"There is a tale, where I come from... A myth of an ancient Sorceress. A betrayer, in the service of a great War God. She betrayed him, craving his throne be her's. Her poison had spread, soon to drive the mighty Ancient One in the snake's trap..."

He continued, turning to move once more in his orbiting pattern around the bound captive... His voice low, with a dark aura evolving around him the more he unfolded the tale.

"The Ancient One found out... Told of the treason by his apprentice. Furious, he was. The blight of betrayal was too great. Especially from such a chosen one like his very apprentice, the sorceress... Wrath urged him to prison her. Blacken her skin by the lightning, while the arcane powers of Dread Magic would spawn demons of horror in her mind..."

The more the man spoke the more his words formed a strange meaning... Wrath; Apprentice; Sorcery; Drad Magic... Yes... Yes, Kerressh had heard of this...!

HSSSSSSSSSASHSHSHHSSH

The whip lashed against the cold stone, wet by the rain that descended over the skies of Dromund Kaas... The ancient world of the Sith... Just like Darth Vitiate, the once Dark Lord of the Sith, Emperor of the ancient peoples, who first found this world after the catastrophe the Republic brought upon Korriban, by the end of the now almost forgotten Hyperspace Wars, now Lord Skotos had brought Kerressh . They had sailed all across the Sith Worlds; A hundred planets at the very reaches of the northern galactic clusters... Korriban; Ziost; Taris; Dromund Kaas..

Skotos, you see, was always in a perpetual crusade of gathering ancient artifacts from the ancient Sith Lords of the past. Knowledge now almost forgotten after more than four thousand years of oblivion... The very Sith Species believed extinct. The very essense of the Sith Code written and rewritten over and over by most powerful Dark Lords...

The Brotherhood of Darkness... Strugging to salvage what remained of the shards of the old Empire, some three thousand years ago, finally managing to recreate the Sith Order in a new, bastardized version of a Cult...

The Rule of Two... Darth Bane's legacy, forced upon the nearly lost dynasty of evil he left upon the shoulders of Darth Zannah, his sole living apprentice who achieved the unthinkable..

The One Sith... The reformed Sith Order by Darth Krayt, he who brought the Sith close to absolute dominion over the Galaxy... Once a Jedi Master, turned to a darkest form of evil through the torment and grim seeding he experienced by the Yuuzang Vong... Escaping, barely with his life. A journey back to the very beginning of the Sith, Korriban. There, he gave birth to the new order; An order flawless... Endless... His hordes soon to rise under the One Sith...

So many times had th Sith epics been rewritten... Their valued pervered through millennia long struggles and destructive civil wars... This was what Skotos, her master, craved to uncover. Under the deep piles of ash and bones and mysticism and forgotten names, lied secrets many would spend lifetimes to uncover...

The whip's cracking once again breaks the unnerving silence of the dark, half-ruined chamber. Vines and roots break from through the ancient stone, reaching out for the small water lakes forming by the rain's consistancy...

The Pain... Her blood dripping under her exposed back, as Skotos filled her thoughts with an unexplainable feeling of horror...

Dread Magic.... he called it. He had recently discovered of a forgotten world in the very outskirts of the Sith Space: Oricon. Several millennia ago, it was there where the Dread Masters, ancient priesthood of the Sith, first unlocked the secrets of Dread Magic... Capable of bending any army into chaos, turning a brother's gun barrel against himself, or even his own kin, out of the seeded horrors in the mind, casted by the Dread Sorcerer...

He wanted that... He craved for that power... Lord Skotos had brought his apprentices to this grim ruin of Dromund Kaas only to experiment... Expendable, they may be, he cared little of what becomes of them... All he wanted was Dread... Dread... Fear... Power... Madness!

How did this dark figure knew of this? Going so far back in the ancient past, while so far from the very space of the Sith...? It couldn't be; And yet, the eary crimson essense that emitte from the deck filled her mind with twisted thoughts... Slowly breaking the barrier of sanity... She was trained.... By the toughest of masters. She could hold... But for how long...?

"Do you know the end, of this myth?" the grim figure intoned, as he once again emerged in her line of sight, during his orbiting... Now, he looks not upon her... "Do you wish to know the sorceress' end...?"

 

[Kerressh]

As she felt her mind slowly start to waver and unravel, she knew it wouldn't be long before the creature, whom powers in the dark side rival those of her master, will gain access into her thoughts. by her account, she had around seven minutes of silence. seven minutes to escape or . . . or her training fail her.

But then she remembered, perhaps by the aids of the dark side---she remembered.

It was burning hot on a desert planet names Geonosis, her master had tied a Jedi to a steaming hot rock, and ordered her to break him. Of course, she happily obliged . . . but the Jedi wasn't so quick to give in. after 48 hours of non-stop electrocuting her quest was deemed a failure by the eyes of her master, and so he intervened.

"You think you can remain silent?" asked her master.

the Jedi remained silent.

A smirk made its way onto the masters lips as his aura started hitting against the Jedi's mind. Kerressh knew what it was he was doing--for it was his famed 'Dread Magic'.

"You think your dark and twisted mind can break that of which i have?" suddenly replied the Jedi. "you know, this one time---"
the Jedi started babbling words and tails. after about two hours of that, the Jedi was still unbroken; and that's when I realized . . .

.
.
.

"You seem to be an expert in torture." She finally said a word to her captor, her mind clearing itself from any outside influence slowly, but surely.
"You wanna know why I do what I do?" she asks and proceeds "this one time I ate breakfast and found out a Jedi decided to steal my favorite meal." she lied, quite obviously; nonetheless . . . achieving the goal she sought. breaking the influence over her mind.

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

"She was freed..." his voice sounded twisted, with what seemed to be satisfaction filling his spat words. "The Sorceress was set free. There was no torment. No pain... No death..."
The grim figure turns, eventually fixing his hidden gaze on the Togruta. He spreads his palms, gesturing towards her, as he spoke. "You wish too, to be freed, is it not? Chains be broken... Through victory, The Force be who sets thee free..."

His voice came with an unnerving feeling as he spoke the paraphrased lines of the Sith Code. It could only be clearer that any plans he might have had for her would be ill-intent. Yet still, through his twisting words and inconsistent sentances, madness was flowing lose. Anyone's senses could feel the devouring, ever-stronger presence of him in the Dark Side. Strong... Too strong. One could only dread how much more than Lord Skotos'. Yet, there was no visibe effort to torture her. Break her into submission, or even cause pain, for only to see how much might she last... None of such. It felt as if his deeply twisted mind had other plans. Unlike a Sith, it seemed that this dark figure felt little need to demonstrate any of his capabilities, leaving only further questionmaks on how far exactly they reached.

"Who can ever be free, should the chains are never seen?" he intoned after few moments of silence. A deep question, as if its very purpose was to seed her mind with doubt, using the most powerful of all mind-twisting skills, not even the Dark Side could embrace: Doubt.
He then intertwined his fingers before his chestguard, keeping his outworldly masked gaze upon Kerressh . A strangest interrogation... It wasn't information what this grim cultist craved. No, that much was clear. What could it be? His words poison, slowly working their way into her thoughts...

 

[Kerressh]

She could feel it. Kerressh knew her mind had been broken into. Doubt is the greatest killer. She knew it, and so it was known she had to act fast. Whoever it was in front of her, they were obviously stronger than her---but she wasn't scared. more like thrilled. and the creature knew that.
Suddenly a lightning strike hit through the ceiling, breaking one of her chains as she uses her free hand to force-shove the creature against the wall, proceeding to melt off the chains that were left, using her electricity. He was obviously unharmed, but left enough time for her to flee as she ran in the direction that felt right.

'The dark side is with me' she told herself in reassurance. she had hopes for escape finally. or so she thought, making her way through the unknown labyrinth she was found in.

She kept on running, not knowing where, but she was frantically looking around for her sabers. Those will prove a valuable asset to possess in case she gets capture again.

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

Suddenly a lightning strike hit through the ceiling, breaking one of her chains as she uses her free hand to force-shove the creature against the wall, proceeding to melt off the chains that were left, using her electricity. He was obviously unharmed, but left enough time for her to flee as she ran in the direction that felt right.

The grim figure turns his gaze up, looking at the lightning cracking open the bonds of the Togruta. Hardly seconds pass, before her wide spread arm aims at him, launching him far as the air thickened, twisted by the Sith's will into a Force Push. His body striking against the iron wall, as chains lash by the force of the impact like vines. Upon sliding down, the very wall was left misformed.

'The dark side is with me' she told herself in reassurance. she had hopes for escape finally. or so she thought, making her way through the unknown labyrinth she was found in.

Upon turning, she would be faced with the hanging body of a human. The skin would be carved by countless deep scars, while held over the ground by spiked hooks violently passed through the flesh, in between the bones. Blood still dripping from the torn exposed body that hanged from the long chains attached to the ceiling... The chamber was circular, with a circular ritualistic carving on the deck. Turning her gaze around her, it would be impossible to miss the view of the several severed bodies hanging across the interior. Limbs twisted, pierced by spiked hooks that held them hanging under the chains. Eyes hanging from the sockets; Intestines slithering like dark snakes, seeking their way down the wide-opened bellies of the perversed carcasses... And yet... With a moment's look... Few of the fingers made a spasmic motion... Lips trembled slightly... As if the long dead were yet to be abandoned by the souls imprisoned within them...

She kept on running, not knowing where, but she was frantically looking around for her sabers. Those will prove a valuable asset to possess in case she gets capture again.

Rushing through the opened gates of the chamber, she stood before a rather narrow corridor and the echoes of the dark figure's laughter... "Blind she ran; Confident in her misvision... Run... run... RUUUN! SEE WHERE YOUR PATH LEADS YOU, LITTLE PIGLET" his voice pierced her mind. Was it an echoing scream? Was it a trick of his witchcraft? None could tell, at this point... Yet it was certain, the more he spoke, the more his words turned needles against the soft surface of her brain. Piercing through in an unnerving feeling. Bleeding her thoughts dry.

The more she ran across, the more the Madness plundged through.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!!!!!!"

The deafening cries of the child shocked her focus. As she rushed across the narrow corridor, left and right there were doors. Sealed doors. The child's bloodied arm slams against the little window, splattering blood against the glass. The interior of the cell could not be distinguished. Darkness... There was Darkness everywhere... A chorus of pain and miscreation, as limbs hanged from above the ceiling, flayed and hooked by the chains. Droplets of blood occasionally fell, seeding the rusty deck...

Reaching at the end of the corridor, she would be met with a blind shut blastdoor. An iron barrier with no visible console to interact... She was now, once again, trapped. Turning around, she could see the vague shadow of the grim figure, shrouded by what felt like a dark side aura casting an arcane dark across the corridor... The figure approached. Ethereal in its pacing, it slowly approached the dehydrated naked form of the Togruta. His claws spread to the sides, the long nails bleeding crimson essense as they called upon the Dark Side....

"Even there, at the River's end, the Blind refuses to embrace the touch of fate..."

The figure's arms suddenly push forth, as a blinding red lightning flies in a long storm of malice towards the alien. The figure walks, slowly closing the distance of the several meters that separated them, as his fingers keep spitting blazing death. His body tainted; Clearly now, as the very cloth shines in momentary sparks, reaching out to the fingertips...

"SCREAM, for me!"

 

[Kerressh]

As she rushed passed the child, his pain almost brought pleasure to her eyes, unfortunently it was too swift to notice the details, making her way to where she would find the metal blast door.
Seeing there is no escape, and knowing rescue is more of a Jedi's specialty, she proceeded to stand there; accepting her fate. staring at the figure slowly approach, she smiles.

As the red lightening hits her body, she writhes in pain, shaking and stuttering as she falls on the floor, bleeding from her orifices. But she didn't care. She couldn't beat the creature, but she wasn't going to give him any information, let alone the pleasure of hearing her scream.

laying there on the floor like a doll, she remained un-motioned. She has given up on an escape.

She knew the realistic thing to do is take her own life, but she also knew there's little chance her captor would let that happen. All she could do now is, well...

She slowly got up, sitting in a meditating pose, and closing her eyes. Whatever the creature would do to her from here, she will be focused on her minds defenses.

.
.
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[Desmundor Alcademon]

The lightning bursts in sparks on his wrapped fingers. Craving to be released; Hungry, for the Togruta's life essence. And yet, the dark figure would not release his malice. He stops, looking over to the female with his masked gaze.

"Breaking your body is the easiest of tasks. But do not be deceived..." His voice sounds in the narrow corridor like a twisted chorus, hardly distinguished whether it is a mind-invading whisper, or his voice blurred by the darkness shrouding him. "Death, child, is a gift I rarely grant. Your flesh shall be torn and decayed, rotting spiked against the walls of my ship. Your essense slowly drained from you only to fuel the machines. If you renounce your fielty to your old masters, however..." his arm is slowly spread like a demon's claw, offering the darkest pact. A black speech follows; an escape to a labyrinth of doubt and unknown.... "Those who never allowed your potential to unlock; release yourself from them and join me. Through me you shall know the coldest of bonds, or the fires of the real taste of freedom. The choice is yours, alone. The blind can only see when the eyes are cut open. Or suffer, in its embrace...."

He would allow few moments of unsettling silence, holding his arm offered to the sat woman.

"Do you have what it takes..?"

 

[Kerressh]

Theme (LOVE IT)

The Togruta would open her eyes, getting to her feet and staring up at her captor with an amount of fear equivalent to zero in her eyes. she would not flinch, no, she just stood there, watching.

"You think I'm scared of death? pain? No, you probably don't. What is your goal Dark one? What does someone like you achieve by converting someone like me? a slave to the sith."

She smirks and reaches for its mask, slowly caressing it, becoming fascinated with whom it be that stood before it. his evil and pain. the opportunities she would get by going with him were countless.

"tell me your name, Dark one."

She demands, running her nails across its mask in an unnatural way, but it was obvious her intentions were not hostile at this point.
Figuring out he is more likely to grant her pain than any sith could, and with his power levelling more that of her old master, this conversion, in her eyes, was inevitable. It was the dark sides will, and she knew it.

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

The ivory mask tickled her thin fingers to the touch, as it felt enchanted by energy. His eyes, behind the blackness of the mask's interior, were fiery; Tainted in the Dark Side's seduction, as his head turned slightly to the side, upon her reach, with the thin hanging fabric over his shoulders hanged by the rod atop his wrapped head giving an unnatural feeling. His presence was not menacing, like a Sith's would. It was not aggressive, like it would be one's under the influence of the Dark Side's corruption... No.

His embrace reached out, grasping the very essence of the Dark Side. His yet unrevealed skin felt embued by the taint, making it his, without any resistance. His presence alone caused an unreal disturbance, with the Togruta's senses able to grasp the shrouding, almost hurtful shadow his entity casted into the Force. A mesmerizing abomination that spread like a tainted vermin around her, seeking to make her soul his'.

"You are drowning, child. Lost in the River of the Blind"

He intoned in a deeply distorted, unsynchronized voice. His palm still half-spread, almost reaching her exposed belly as his long-nailed crystal fingertips sparking in a crimson lightning energy errupting occasionally, as the very flesh felt unable to tame it within.

"I am who brings the light to the blind. He who casts the illusion away, for those willing, to feel the taste of what means to be the maker of fates. See beyond flesh and soul. See as the Ancient Ones intented you to do. Why be a hound... When you can be a wolf?"

Each of his words felt flawlessly lined to invade her very mind, casting their own will in her's as the strange figure seemed careless of utilizing the tools of pain and torture, which seemed the easiest to do. But no. His aims were clearly beyond simply breaking the Togruta...

 

[Kerressh]

As he twisted his face to the side, escaping her grasp, the Togruta took her hand back to place; almost disappointed.

"A shame, it is."

She said. He could tell she was different, not special no---she knew she was blind. blinded by her rage and hatred, emotions that have no place to come from. emotions that exist without the need to nurture them.
She hates no one but is overtaken by hatred.
She is angry at no one but is overrun with anger.
It's as if her mind is a whirlpool of random emotions, having no connection one to the other, no harmony nor reason.
She like a piece in a puzzle that doesn't fit.

She was no match to him, but she wasn't fighting back. it's like she was fascinated by his essence, desperate to find out where his power stems from. where was he born and what made him himself.
she was like a desperate detective trying to constantly work a case.
She was lost in the dark side, and she kept going deeper and deeper, treading unfamiliar depths.
.
.
.

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

"A shame it is"

Theme


The figure's palms once again spread, aimed upward as they are offered to the Togruta. His entity dipped in the abyssal dark of maddening pitch. And yet... His motions came with a strange feeling of serenity... A soft music echoing over the chaotic vision of a million screaming throats, as the planet burned. Wait... This was it...

The chorus of despair... The cries of the inevitable doom suddenly pierce her chest like a spear's point. A killing sensation beaming through the Force, as the very world she once stood was set ablaze. Burned. Caved. Lost. She could feel it. She could feel the darkest harvest, as the still screaming essense of the innocent, the guilty, the warriors and the mothers alike made their way to the void... Looking to the dark figure's eyes she could clearly see the purity and perversion that consisted him. Sheer determination, cold as the iron blade, yet calm as the Rishi mountain lakes. A sensation matching the view of the flame; A devouring force, able to cause fear as much as awe. Pain, as much as rebirth...

"The world is yours"

His echoing whisper continued like a spell of seduction. Each word yet another needle to the one's mind. Was his intent as just as he revealed? Or was it as ill-intent, master of manipulation, as the next Dark Lord? The choice was her's to make...

"The rope is there; wet by the River. Showing it to you was all I did. All I do. Grasping onto it... Is yours. Think, child. Search your feelings deep within. Do you wish to learn? Do you wish the iron-forged power you tasted to be turned into the blade you can be? Or will you, now that you know, remain as such, up until the iron is devoured by rust and time. Torn... By doubt and loss...?"

 

[Kerressh]

The togruta remained silent, Looking the creature up and down with a doubtful gaze. Although a glint of hope was seen through her eyes, she wasn't easily depraved of her logical senses. Her brain was screaming to the body to get out of there, but the body could most definantly not resist the pleasure of strength and power.

'Oh the potential the creature could bring-" She thought to herself.

After no less than ten local planetary minutes of silence, she nods and replies with grit and intention.
"If one of these days I sense you lost your essence, or desire, or even a little bit of your strength, I will slay you right there and then creature. The dark side wavers from my truth. My intentions are clear. and you will help me gain them."

She smirked to herself, backing off slowly, stopping a mere distance away.

Step... Step... Step...

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

Theme

"Do not be deceived, Blind-one...."

The voice of the figure sounded, while he turned slowly around, extending one of his clawed palms to the side, slowly closing his grip...
As he did, the blood that flowed under the deck's rigging started unnaturally slither upward, as if an ethereal force was guiding it into misshapen patterns... It rose and twisted, flowing across itself as it slowly bound with the other tentacle-like pillars of blood emerging...

"There can be no weakness, in the Shadow... And it won't be few the times you turn your blade against me... This is the way of the Dark Side... Always seek to cleance the path for the strong... But do not be deceived..."

The blood would suddenly collapse into a splatter against the iron deck...

"Come with me..."

The figure walked seemingly calmly; His aura consuming the surrounding artificially-made atmosphere of the life support, while the sparks of lightning from his fingertips broke the unnerving silence of the horrific deck...

Tap... Tap... Tap....

His weightless pacing guides him across the blastdoors of the temple-like structure. The walls are all decorated with ritualistic symbols. Atop the high ceilings hang chandeliers, crafted in the shape of a 7-pointed, while circulare engravings of a sun-like shape were marked on every wall... A crimson essense emitted from the very deck, filling the wide chambers of the dark temple with crushing darkness. Upon one's passing, from the very walls of the surrounding, misshapen figures ascend through the thin phasma formed by the energy. Amalgamations of hands, bodies, flesh and eyes; Their skeletal deformed arms reached out, with the claws craving to grasp upon the passer by, while their mouths widened in a deafening scream as their jaws fell in unnatural extent... And yet... There would be deathly silence... As if they couldn't be heard in the realspace...

As the grim figure walked past them, they pulled back, with their arms suddenly held back in a defensive position over their miscreated apparation... Sheer dread would be dyed on their entities, up until the figure walked away...

"We are no Sith... Even if our forefathers might have been; We are no Sith..." his disturbed, daemonically desynchronized chorus of a spech is heard then while he keeps walking across the corridors of the temple...

"There can be little doubt in the radiant of the Light; But in the Dark; A labyrinth of possibility... paths unexplored for eons, if not at all. We only follow the path; The Dark Gods call. Ascended, in their millennia. Craving power careless whether or not you can wield is the way of the Sith... Believing that sheer might shall break the chains wrapped around you; The chains of the Blind. Endlessly drowning in the River of the Blind, while the mortal journey only brings you ever closer to the King of the Dead; This is why the Sith shall fall; For they are not worthy of the power they wield... And the Force punishes them; Their bodies decayed; Their power shatters.... All the while, it would be much easier if they only saw, what truely lies; What we Athysians have been revealed by the Ancient Ones."

 

[Kerressh]

She would listen to his every word, following it with much heart, much logic. Taking her steps after him she proceeded to examine the deformed water and misshapen rememnants of what she only could assume used to be a living thing.

She was not scared, nor impressed. She has decided to stick with the creature, but she isn't there to be impressed, she's there to feel what she cant grasp at the place of the sith.
As they walk through the maze-like building she was still debating on whether or not that creature is of the real deal she seeks.
That is what she hopes to find out, A week or so is what she will give him.

"So tell me, Creature. A name, do you possess one?"

She would ask, examining her cut and bloodied nails, looking up upon the creature.

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

"You are ignorant, child" the dark figure intones, as he eventually reaches a black gate, giving an end to the chamber. The very gate is carved with strange glyphic symbols, hard to decypher for one not already familiar to such occult arts like onboard this hulk. His long, crystalic-nailed claws reach forth, before the gate opens. Oxygen discharges into the ill-aired corridor, causing a white mist.

"To know" the creature continued, "You must first see. For you have yet to fuel my words" he continued. His arm extends ahead, his palm half-spread as he gestures Kerressh to continue further beyond the gate. An unnerving silence follows, while the scent of fresh blood suddenly kicks in. Beyond the frame of the heavy gate, the eye could easily spot the blood trail, sparkling as it reflected the light of the torchfires, lit over the twisted iron of the columns that stood around the circular pit in the chamber's depth. An arena, it felt like. A broken body lied against the iron deck, decaying in its own blood lake, while the ribcage stood torn, naked by the flesh due to the blade's bite. Growling echoes of beasts filled the emptiness of the large chamber, while strange figures stood inbetween the columns, partially hidden due to the shadows.

In the middle of the arena stood a tall figure. His arms wrapped with cut fabric, with his skin underneath a canvas of scars and battle wounds. His armour was torn, although it felt as if this did not bother him. He waited. The curved silluette of the blade still dyed the pit's floor with the blood droplets dripping off from the sharp edges... He stood tall, looking down at the broken carcass of the slayed foe. A most barbaric scene;