By The Pricking Of My Thumbs...

[Zak Dymo]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SSUQxGjZZ4​

THE PLANET
D O S U U N
CASTUM UMBRA

With three geological compressors cooking, the small laboratory that the young Pantoran had re-purposed for alchemical research may well have been as cool and inviting as a smithy or kiln.

"Nu dari nindz shiyi..."

It was not the usual form of ancient Proto-Huttese that the boy spoke as part of his worship of the gods of the Primeval. Instead, an archaic scroll stretched out over the workshop table, the blue-skinned youth's hand moved along the runic symbols as he made an effort at deciphering an early form of High Sith. The scroll had belonged to his former master, Darth Scorpius.

The late Darth Scorpius it should be noted, whose untimely passing had come at the hands of the 11 year old witch-boy, and not soon enough.

...in any event, the scroll had belonged to the boy's former master, who had used it in combination with notes of a partial translation to create what had, eventually, become his first lightsaber crystal. A synthetic kyber crystal imbued with the Dark Side of the Force. Such crystals were powerful manifestations of the Force, wholly unnatural bastions of pure evil.

Chaotic. Unstable. But powerful all the same.

"...tsakwa an shinsi dzis kûts, mazo kûts muri," the boy read, one finger tracing along the scroll as the other dipped into an open bag of crisps. Munching on the snacks, the young witch-boy brooded over the question of how to advance understanding of the magicks involved to the next level.

He'd seen it done. [member="Orihime Ike"] had demonstrated it with the Sasori circlet, a Force imbued item that the Pantoran had wielded as well. It was something made using Alakhest, the lightside counter to Sith Alchemy, but it had been workable for him as well. That wasn't true for most of what such Jedi artisans produced. Many of the items used by Orihime or [member="Théodred Heavenshield"] used energy from Solari crystals, imbuing them with properties that repelled the Dark Side of the Force.

That was all well and good, except when your power came from the Darkside...

Dipping his hand back into the bag of crisps, the boy was bringing his free hand back toward his mouth when a loud hiss-roar echoed in his ear. Working in the hot lab, the young Pantoran was only half-dressed, his shirt off in order to try and keep cool. Nonetheless, or not taking the hint as per the usual, the amphistaff was coiled around him and finding ways to obnoxiously interject it's dragon-like head into everything.

Including, apparently, crisps.

Holding one out, the boy let the serpentine biot snatch up one of the crisps before popping the remainder into his mouth. All the while, mulling over the scroll and listening to the symphonic sound of geological compressors firing.

​

[member="Viktor DuSang"] | [member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Boo Chiyo"]


The Primeval True Believer and Knight of the Supreme Leader's Order of Ren would not remain alone in his repurposed laboratory. The sound of boots on the floor could be heard outside, then none other than Enyo Typhos stepped inside, after knocking on the door. Enyo was politer than her sister, so she actually knocked instead of just barging in as if she owned the place.


She had heard the words the boy spoke. She could not quite translate the incantation, but it sounded like Sithese to her. Archangel's education had been quite thorough, though the clone was lacking in practical experience. Her brown eyes darted across the room, taking in the geological compressors, other tools, the scroll and, finally, the amphi-staff. Wait, an amphi-staff? Well, strange things had happened. It seemed the creature was munching on crisps.


Enyo was dressed fairly casually, but was still sweating in the hot lab. A strong dark aura permeated the alchemical lab. Her eyes fell upon the scroll, reflecting curiosity. "Boo, right?" she queried. "Enyo. We met during the mission on Sekalus." That bizarre planet populated by annoying felines that looked like they'd jumped straight out of a fetish holovid. "I've been told you're working on an alchemical project."


She knew little of the young Pantoran, but Archangel had its sources in Silver Coalition space. Apparently he was connected to the Silver Jedi in some sort of mind-boggling way. Maybe somewhere down the line he could give her tips about how to murder Jedi and Firemane minions.

 

[Zak Dymo]

Hand outstretched, the boy was meditating over by the three geological compressors.

Like a flute feeding air into a furnace, he was carefully manipulating the Force. It was a delicate balance to find the right amount of Force with which to imbue the crystallization process. Too much, and the crystal would become unstable. Perhaps even explode. Too little, and the result would not even yield the power of a low-level pontite gem. In circular motions, the boy's arms moved through the air. Gently guiding the Force to feed one compressor, siphoning it away from another as the process continued to take shape and form.

At the knock on the door, the amphistaff reared it's head up, curious to see who was entering.

...except, its head was now stuck in the crisp bag. Shaking it's head vigorously, the serpentine form seemed to try and shake off the bag as the purple-haired boy paid no mind to either the biot or the intrusion. "Oh, hey, Enyo," the youth answered, as he continued to work over the crystal ovens.

When he had finished, he stood back up and looked over the scroll. Glancing up over at the brunette, the blue skinned boy said, "I'm just working on making some synth-crystals right now," the boy explained. That was kind of alchemical, but it wasn't really the real project he had in mind. It was just the first step in the process.

"Have you ever made a crystal before?"

[member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Boo Chiyo"]


There was a degree of irony to the situation. The Pantoran lad was still a preteen, but in actual fact older than Enyo because she'd only been born fairly recently in a cloning tube. In the light of the fact that his path had taken him from abject poverty on Coruscant into the services of a Sith Lord, then the legions of the Primeval Host Lord, to the Levantine Astronautical Academy and the Silver Sanctum and finally the First Order, he probably had a lot more life experience than her.


Conveniently, though lacking in experience, Enyo was a good deal less prideful and set in her ways than her older sister. She cracked a smile when she realised that the serpentine creature had buried its head inside the crisp bag. This was quite a predicament for the amphistaff!


"Oh, I see," she responded. "I haven't made one yet, no. My caretakers gave me my first lightsabre." Caretakers was an interesting way to describe the droids who'd raised her ever since she woke up and emerged from the Spaarti cloning tube.


"I'd be happy to learn and assist though, if you'd care to show me," she added, stepping towards the crystal ovens so that she could see the process better. She could perceive the flow of the Force as the Ren pulled at the tangled web of power. "I think your amphistaff got lost in the bag. He must like crisps a lot!" Her jokes were a bit on the lame side, but she'd only recently started socialising with people who weren't emotionless robots.

 

[Viktor DuSang]

The young noble walked through the halls, his loafers making soft sounds on the ground beneath his feet. He straightened his black jacket, dusting off his black slacks. His white silk shirt clung tightly to his form, though mosty covered by his jacket. The Grand Moff's bodyguard found the door in question, running a hand through raven hair before stepping in.

Immediately, he was hit with the heat, like getting slapped in the face with a damp sock. Yellow eyes found [member="Boo Chiyo"] and [member="Enyo Typhos"] conversing. And then he saw the serpent-esque staff trying to wrestle it's way out of a plastic bag. He turned on his heel, beginning to tip-toe his way out of the room. However, he ultimately decided against it.

Pulling a Coruscanti clove out of his jacket pocket, he sparked it up, taking a long drag of the sweet smoke. He was here to learn some Alchemy. Obviously he was going to see odd things. But, this seemed almost borderline insanity. Truly, he was far from the rigid, proper lifestyle found at the Imperial Citadel.

 

[Zak Dymo]

The writer of the young-old clone had summarized all the reasons why this character ought to be in his early thirties as opposed to eleven, but whatever this was Star Wars.

"Huh?" the boy remarked, looking up in confusion at the comment about his amphistaff liking crisps. Turning his head, the boy was just in time to get smacked in the face as the biot gave another violent shake. "Oh..." the youth remarked, using his hands up pull the plastic bag from off the serpentine creature's triangular-shaped head.

In gratitude, the snake-like biot turned and pointed its snout toward the boy's face. And promptly sneezed.

Bringing a hand up to wipe his face, the boy uttered. "She." Both were factually incorrect, as the amphistaff reproduced asexually. But, when you were able to become your own mom through metamorphosis, ascribing the female gender to it seemed the more appropriate. "This is Azi," the child added, scratching the biot under its chin as he glanced back up at the woman.

For its part, Azi's tail wagged as though it were a labrador retriever.

As the boy started to go for the basic ingredients, he caught sight of the man in the doorway. The yellow eyes stood out to him and, for a moment, their eyes may have held each other's gaze. Amber colored eyes were a common trait among Pantoran's, so the boy's eyes most likely closely mirrored those of the man. Saying nothing for the moment, the boy ducked down into the cabinets as he rummaged about. "Start with your base component," the boy noted, returning to the table top after a moment with an assortment of notes he'd used the first time he'd made a crystal.

Passing those off for her to read for herself, he wandered away for the cabinets.

"...something with a lot of carbon," the boy mused, reaching into drawers, ducking into bins, and then pulling himself up to reach back into cabinets that were taller than he was. When he returned, he had a variety of ore rocks, which he laid out on the table. Some were quite plain, such as alum rocks or coal. A few others were more exotic."Ardanium, it draws it's power from the energy around it," the boy noted, pointing to one in particular before indicating two others. One that was clear as a diamond and another that seemed almost a glob of human blood. "Cortheum, it creates a crystal so clear you could polish it into a lens. And gypryst, from Skye, a bloodstone with living qualities."

Pausing, the boy stopped himself from continuing on much further. Depending on what she picked out would depend on what ingredients they would need to add to the mix for the crystal. Looking back up at the woman, the boy asked, "Which of these would you choose for yourself?"

[member="Viktor DuSang"] | [member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Viktor DuSang"], [member="Boo Chiyo"]


This writer was most assuredly not judging. In all likelihood, Siobhan Kerrigan ought to be a lot older by now after having went from failed Jedi knight to the Protectorate's champion, Exarch and finally a business moghul and aristo. Instead of being somewhere in her late thirties. Then again, somehow the rise and decline of the Sith Empire, Omega Protectorate and Galactic Republic had taken place in three years.


What is the morale of the story? Do not think too deeply about timelines in a universe with faster-than-light travel, laser swords and moon-sized superweapons that can be destroyed by shooting a torpedo through a conveniently placed exhaust port!


Enyo looked a bit bemused by the interaction between Boo and his serpentine pet. Archangel had told her that Vong were loathsome creatures that should be exterminated for the greater good. However, there were no Vong in sight, just a snake-like living weapon and it seemed nice enough. Bit like a cute pet. A very lethal, deadly one, given how nasty an amphistaff's venom was.


"Oh, Azi, nice to meet you," she chuckled a bit. She sensed a newcomer had arrived. She did not know his name and just gave him a curt nod. He was smoking. Enyo neither smoked nor drank. [member="Maelion Liates"] had made her watch some rather disturbing holovid that showed what happened if you indulged in such vices.


Anyhow, to business. Her eyes were drawn towards the various ore rocks Boo retrieved and spread out on the table. She studied each of them, giving the matter some thought. She was a practical woman by nature and Ardanium seemed to fit the bill. At least that was the one her laywoman's eye gravitated to on first blush. "I'll take Ardanium. What's the next step? What other ingredients do we need?"

 

[Zak Dymo]

Ardanium.

A very practical choice. If she was successful, the crystal would produce a blade that became more powerful when it connected with another lightsaber. In fact, she'd probably need to use crossguard vents were she to try and place it in a lightsaber.

"Take your ore to that geological compressor, there," the boy noted, as he turned and mulled over the remaining ingredients for the crystal. Picking up a small bowl, the boy rummaged through a series of tins on a counter toward the back of the laboratory. "...some cinnabar for color, some feldspar... a pinch of arsensalts..."

Returning from the back of the lab, the boy passed the small bowl over toward the young woman. "Place this into the geological compressor," the boy instructed.

"Now is when the real work begins," the youth instructed, as he backtracked to where the three compressors were already laboring. Making the circular motions with his hands, the child bent down. Closing his eyes, his body swayed back and forth as he again worked the unseen flutes that were like rivers through the Force, feeing flows of energy into the ovens. "Fire breathes air, as your crystal must breathe the Force."

With a fluttering gesture, the boy seemed to wave something away from one of the geological compressors. "Too much, and the crystal will be too hot," the child warned. With the same hand, the fluttering gesture became more of a coaxing motion toward a different compressor. "Too little, and the crystal will be too brittle."

Pausing a moment, the boy looked back at the woman. "Once you begin, it may take days for your crystal to form."

Indicating the third compressor, the boy noted, "This one has been going since we got back from Sekalus." Indicating the remaining pair, the boy added, "These two want to burn hot, so it shouldn't take them nearly as long."

[member="Enyo Typhos"] | [member="Viktor DuSang"]​

 

[Viktor DuSang]

He nodded to [member="Enyo Typhos"], not interrupting [member="Boo Chiyo"]'s instructions. He unbuttoned his jacket, pulling it off of his form as a free hand kept it slung over his shoulder. He took another drag off of the Coruscanti clove, the sweet smoke filling his lungs. Yellow eyes watched the process.

He went largely unnoticed and unacknowledged. That was preferable. Viktor hated being the center of attention. He enjoyed the shadows, and the comforts they provided. The less he was noticed, the better he felt.

A bead of sweat began to trickle down his back as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his silk shirt. He watched the lesson with curious eyes, though it all seemed a bit nonsensical. But, he was told that all things were possible through the Force. And in his couple decades of living, he had seen some pretty odd things.

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Boo Chiyo"], [member="Viktor DuSang"]


"Ok. I understand," Enyo responded, listening attentively while the Pantoran elaborated upon the process, then walked over towards a geological compressor after having picked up the profferred bowl with the ingredients.


As instructed, she placed the items into the compressor. The device fired up, accepting the offering. Now the real work began, for it was both a technical and a mystical process. Fire breathes air, as your crystal must breathe the Force.


As in many things, balance was the key. If she pressed too strongly and flooded the crystal with the energies of the Force, and the crystal would be unstable and thus a risk. Too little, and it would be weak. It reminded her of the lessons Talsir had taught her beneath the surface of the hellish planet of Gehenna.


Balance calm and rage. Glow white-hot, but be a thermic lance, not an unrestrained forest fire. Archangel intended for her to be the ideal balance between cold machine logic and organic spontaneity and independence. Able to command the Force, but without succumbing to excess and decadence like her sister. The key word being intended. She was far from there yet.


So Enyo tried to focus, and pulled at the tangled web of power that was the Force. Using herself as a conduit, she sought to imprint her will upon the stream in order to make it do her bidding and flow into the oven. It was like playing an instrument or painting on a canvas. Her command was far from perfect, but she had determination and, above all, patience. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the metaphysical 'river' instead of what her physical eyes could perceive.


"I had a look at the pamphlet you gave me," she remarked while she pulled at the invisible strands. "It was interesting. Very different from the picture the media paints." One imagined that the stereotypical depiction of the Primeval faith in say GNN featured unpleasant things such as human sacrifices and bloodletting, focusing on atrocities such as Mirial during Zambrano the Hutt's Reign of Terror.

 

[Zak Dymo]

The media?

The galactic media had never favored the Primeval. They'd gone from mere rumor to controlling the Tingel Arm in less than six months. In that time, they'd beaten the Mandalorians, the Silver Jedi, and helped bring about the restoration of the Hutt Cartel.

So, when Enyo mentioned the media portrayal of the Primeval, it was a moment before the boy caught on. "Oh, those are just Riftborne."

Switching off the one compressor, the boy began to let some of the pressure out. A fine mist filled the room as the compressor was backed down. As he worked, the boy noted, "Everyone who believes in Sargon is Primeval, but among the Primeval we tend to disagree on which god is more important."

Was there anything more human than that? It wasn't just a matter of whether you believed in the right gods or not, but did you believe which of those gods was more important? Because, if you didn't there'd be hell to pay. "It's called the 'Rift' and those who subscribe to it or on any side of it are 'Seekers of the Rift.'"

Grabbing a pair of long handle tongs and a thick thermal pad, the boy cracked open the compressor. A roll of steam waifed out, as he reached in. "I'm a Riftsinger. We just want to share the light of Nogras with everybody," he remarked, even as he pulled back his arm. Cradled between the tongs and the thermal pad was a hunk of raw, crystallized gemstone. Unpolished, it seemed to pulsate with an unnatural red light in his arms. "Riftwalkers are pragmatists, like Halrormalenth. And then the Riftborne really, really get into the whole Balagoth is the god of death motiff."

He'd seen [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] march out 500 prisoners with Cryo-Ban suicide vests strapped to them, just to clear a Mandalorian minefield.

And that was without mentioning the whole eating someone's face during the Chiloon Rift affair...

An involuntary shudder ran through the child. Riftborne gave him the creeps. And he was Primeval!

...or maybe that was just Z-Hutt.

Setting the hunk of raw synth-crystal on the table, the boy looked around for a moment. Glancing up at the man, who was near a set of tools, the boy asked, "Can you hand me that gem cutter over there?"

[member="Viktor DuSang"] | [member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Boo Chiyo"], [member="Viktor DuSang"]


It was a truism that the most brutal religious wars were waged between those who on paper belonged to the same religion. Had not Jedi and Sith started that way? The Galaxy had bled due to their Eternal Holy War - and would continue to do so.


"I see. Hence the schism after the Host Lord perished, yes? A struggle over power, dogma and who is the purest who worships the gods the 'correct' way," Enyo said thoughtfully. "I can see how the Riftborne made death an end in itself and turned into apocalyptic zealots."


This was where the young-old clone and her template diverged. Far as Siobhan was concerned, the Primeval was evil, full stop. Not the least due to their affiliation with hated Sith and the atrocities on Mirial. This was more than a little ironic when one considered that at the same time she was a fervent supporter of the Eldorai and considered them her people, despite the Matriarchy's blood-stained history.


Enyo had seen the killing fields on Gehenna and encountered the spirits of the dead who'd been trapped there since the final battle against the Bando Gora. The detritus of Kerrigan's path to glory. On a certain level, 'The Kerrigan' probably believed that she was a demigoddess. The clone kept concentrating on feeding the energies of the Force into the oven so that the ingredients could crystallise. She gradually relaxed as she felt the process was proceeding well, requiring less energy.


"The goddess Nogras is the source of light, yes? And Halromaleth the creator...but since he was imperfect, so are his creations. It's an interesting way to resolve the theodicy question." Enyo had clearly taken the time to actually read the pamphlet. Why? Perhaps because it was the exact opposite of what her mirror would have done. Maybe subconsciously because she knew Archangel would also disapprove. [member="Amara Zarides"] would probably troll her a lot.


Her eyes darted towards Boo when he began to work on his crystallised gemstone. It would take a while for hers to crystallise, so she might as well help him out in the meantime and learn something. "What's the next step?"

 

[Zak Dymo]

"What's the next step?"

Excellent question.

Looking up from where he'd begun buffing out the red geode, the young Pantoran paused a moment to look over the unfamiliar illustrations and symbols on the ancient scroll that was spread across the table. Creating the crystal was the first step, and also the only step he'd ever completed himself. Well, not including cutting the geode, selecting the crystal shard, and then polishing it up for use in a lightsaber. But to create something other than a mere crystal...

...he had no idea.

"It needs a host of some kind," the boy murmured aloud. That made sense, didn't it? The Sasori Amulet, the circlet, the Alkahest workings of the Silver Jedi... they were all incorporated into a host of some kind.

Rummaging around the lab for a moment, the boy returned with a few scraps of alumabroze. Looking around for a moment, he pointed over toward a smelting furnance. "Start melting these down," the youth opined, thinking aloud as he began wandering around for materials with which to begin assembling a mold.

But what kind of shape should it take?

[member="Enyo Typhos"] | [member="Viktor DuSang"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Boo Chiyo"]


Thusly it was melting time! Enyo took the scraps of alumabronze and obediently fed them into the smelting furnace. She kept an eye on device while it carried out its melting work. This writer is clearly feeling terribly witty tonight.


"I understand you've been in Sanctum space a good deal," she remarked. The phrasing was neutral. After all, otherwise it could easily be misconstrued if you were of a particularly paranoid mind set. The sort of one that got cultivated by a fascist police state.


"Ever ran into Siobhan Kerrigan? I hear she's a big name there." Kerrigan as in Countess, Warlord and CEO of Firemane Industries & Technology. There were plenty of other titles, but this is not a Siobhan thread, hence no need to stroke her ego. "I'm her clone."

 

[Zak Dymo]

The boy's blue hands were stained with potter's clay.

Working with the thick clay, the boy had a bowl of water as he worked to make the mud pliable and started shaping what would be the mold for... whatever he was making.

He honestly wasn't decided on that part yet. He was sort of making this up as he went. But, thus far, things seemed to be progressing nicely. Toward what end? Who knew. The point was the journey, not the destination.

Or something.

"I understand you've been in Sanctum space a good deal."

"Uh huh," the boy answered absently. Slopping a clump of mud between his hands, the young Pantoran worked the moist clay into a ball and then began using his thumbs to start pressing out a disc-like shape. "I know the Heavenshields really well," the boy remarked, seemingly without much thought, as he worked.

Looking over the roughly circular shape, the boy inspected the mold and found he just didn't quite like how it had turned out.

The edges of the disc rippled, like water, as the boy stretched out with the Force. The blob of clay re-shaped itself as the boy re-worked the physical form with his mind. A layer of frost glossed over the mold as it hardened into a the pointed shield of the First Order symbol.

Taking the mold over toward the furnace, the boy looked up as the name [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] was dropped.

"Who?"

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Boo Chiyo"]


Enyo cocked her head to the side slightly. It was a tick she'd unintentionally picked up from the HRDs who'd raised her. There was an expression of deep and profound puzzlement on her face. "Really? The Jedi 'paragons' don't mind mingling with a Knight of Ren and Primeval Believer?" she wondered out aloud, while helping Boo give the mould the desired shape. What was the desired outcome? It seemed it was more like an experiment.


The words had left her lips before she could give them thought. Maybe the Jedi hoped to turn the Pantoran to the 'light side'. Perhaps they only saw an 'innocent boy' who could be 'shown the light' and were unconcerned about infiltration and all that.


Then again, she had long concluded that Jedi were hypocrites and let darksiders fight their battles, such as on Ruusan. As for Boo's reaction to the name of her mirror, it made her chuckle. Indeed, she actually laughed.


"Sorry. I believe you're the first person I met in a while who had that reaction. Many confuse me with her. It's...liberating for it to be different here. She's a bigwig on one of the Sanctum's planets and Firemane's CEO. I was created to be her host." Her tone became noticeably colder.

 

[Zak Dymo]

Jedi paragons?

"I think the Heavenshield's just treat people like... people," the Pantoran offered with a shrug. His religion and political affiliations really didn't come up that much. And, when it did, it never seemed that big of a deal.

They were not that different. The Dark Side or the Light.

Bringing the mold over to the furnace, the boy carefully poured some of the molten alumabronze into the cast. Looking up from where the heat blasted him in the face, the boy's blue skin had taken on a violet tone. "She must not be that big of a deal, if she has to use other people like that," the boy noted candidly.

That didn't sound like power or influence. It sounded more like slavery to him.

He could imagine anyone like that being a bigwig in the Sanctum.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Boo Chiyo"]


"A slave's what the queen wanted me to be. She has a megacorporation, her own Force order and legions of obedient minions, but had to live forever. She's battled Sith Lords. Some lackeys call her a telekinetic goddess. It's disgusting," Enyo said scathingly. Perhaps she was a little jealous, though she'd never admit. Siobhan had a lot of power and a family. Righteous indignation, fear and rage against perceived injustices committed by her mirror were mixed with envy and bitterness.


"I'll going to kill her one day." Her tone was chilly. The white hot fury she so often felt had been condensed to a molten iron. Tear down Firemane, destroy everything her monstrous sister loved, set those free who bent a knee to her and eradicate those who stood by her. The clone's sister [member="Amara Zarides"] was more balanced by comparison. Getting some real human contact since Amara's birth had made Enyo slightly less bitter, but not banished her obsession.


Suffice to say, there were great many things Enyo was in the dark about. What would happen if the two encountered one another? More importantly, what would the young-old clone do if she realised that her caretakers were not beign at all?


She shrugged her toned shoulders and brightened a bit, pushing the grim thoughts in her mind aside. "Anyway, I got a bit off topic. Back to making...what are we trying to make exactly?"

 

[Zak Dymo]

Perhaps surprisingly, the young Pantoran understood a great deal of what she confessed.

"My master was a Dark Lord of the Sith," the boy began. The manner in which the word 'master' was uttered was different than with the Jedi. It was a word laced with utter contempt. A pure loathing that knew only the infinite abyss of a hatred so vast as to extend beyond the grave. "He had very... concrete plans for how I'd be useful to him," the boy recalled, as he continued working.

"I killed him," the boy recalled, as he used the Force to lift up the cooling mold of the cast alumabronze. Bringing it over toward the red hunk of gemstone, the boy looked at the woman as he passed her by. "...so I am sure that you are capable of the same."

He wouldn't lie. The murder of Darth Scorpius had been the most liberating thing he had ever experienced.

Perhaps there was some truth to the Code of the Sith, and breaking chains.

Working with a gem cutter, the boy worked free a sliver of red crystal, which he then began to pare down to a circle. "Next, we focus our energies on the crystal."

"I think."

He was kind of making this up as they went along.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Boo Chiyo"]


Enyo locked eyes with the Pantoran. To her surprise, she could see understanding. He'd been used as a tool, but cast down his would-be oppressor. "Yes. I suppose the two of us are not so different then." Through victory, your chains are broken. Enyo cared very little for the self-destructive, chaotic ways of the Sith, but there was some truth to their Code. At least the part about overcoming one's limitations and breaking chains, though the Sith twisted it into a self-aggrandising desire for self-exaltation.


Of course, the chains that bound here the tightest were the ones the clone could not perceive yet. Her eyes focused upon the crystal. They were kind of making it up as they went along, but what the hell. Focusing upon the Force, she sought to pull at the tangled web of power and let the energies flow into the crystal.


Command of the Force came easiest for her when she was angry. Rage against her sister was a good motivator, but it needed to be applied in a focused manner, so that she became the thermic lance, not an uncontrolled wildifre. It was ironic how much Talsir's teachings mirrored those Siobhan imparted on her own acolytes. A faint glow emanated from the crystal. That was probably good!