Children of Ice

[Sal Katarn]

The shuttle descended through Alzoc III's atmosphere. From space it appeared nothing more than a ball of ice, which in truth was almost all that it was - a book composed only of a cover. Read its face once and you've read it all. Aside from the obvious vast expanses of tundra, incessant blizzards, and snow-laden ravines, Alzoc had several other points of interest. The old Imperial base was a large structure and though abandoned for almost a millennia now it would no doubt remain impressive. Then there were the abandoned mines, likely snowed over, but in their time they were what had brought commerce to this planet.

Now all that remained were the Talz, living as they had been before the incursion of Galactic society. The plague had swept through even these far reaches, cutting them off from their colonies on other planets and leaving them in isolation, where they devolved to the primitive tools of their forebears. There were no spaceports here, only villages and huts. However, Anaudius and his companion were far more interested in the laboratory of a group of Arkanian Scientists.

The shuttle settled down amidst the icy wind and Anaudius, wearing cold weather gear reminiscent of the Rebels on Hoth, trudged out into the snow. Before him stood a large complex whose exact structure was unclear as the majority of it appeared snowed over. Strangely, the front entrance seemed almost.... shoveled clear.

Anaudius glanced over at his apprentice, [member="Nazo"]. "Shall we enter?"

 

[Nazo]

It was the Mandalorians seeking something beyond the Manda - seeking to live eternal that had directed them to the desolate world of an ancient Sith culture that led them to the dark prophet.

It was a space slug over two centuries old that wandered the path of the cosmos seeking something he didn't quite know, all in the desire to fill himself completely with these dark and twisted emotions that had also led him to Anaudius.

And, it was the servant of Liad, the leper of the Moross Crusade that had found both parties on that barren rock, where he had stayed trapped, imprisoned, and alone. His only companion the musings of his enchanted saber to keep him occupied.

In hindsight, the Mandalorians had saved Anaudius from the entrapment of Korriban, as he had delivered to them their wish of an eternal existence. Despite that being an endless immortal life of being bound in chains of agony by the forgotten spirits of the Sith Lords of old, their wish had been granted. Nazo had come, following the wanderlust in his spirit to seek out the prize of the dark side, without truly knowing it. The space slug, rescuing Anaudius from the madness of being alone, while he in turn would provide the knowledge and skill to grant Nazo the abilities he sought to continue his sadistic experimentation. All of this and more did Nazo ponder on their journey from Korriban to the frigid arctic world of Alzoc III.

The planet nearly glowed, radiating the icy permafrost that caked over the entire expanse of the globe, reflecting light back out to form an aura of ice blue color around it's surface. So distant was it's star, that it's continual climate was nothing but a constant freeze making life on the surface nearly non-existent save for the adaptable creatures that thrived in such harsh conditions. The Gizka on board would certainly die within seconds of even a fraction of that climate, and thus it would remain inside the ship where it could bask under heat lamps to it's black heart's content. The underground caverns however were a different story, as most life was spent dwelling in caves were artificial heat could be routed and piped to make it bearable. Even his companion and new mentor was having to don protective gear that would shelter him from the temperatures outside the craft that had landed.

In an odd display of resilience however, Nazo simply stepped off the ship in the same attire he had been seen in since he crafted it. Durasteel and cloth had very little issue with the climate and nor did the slug inside the exoskeleton. His form was hardy and could withstand the raging inferno of Mustafar, and the damning cold of a night on Hoth. He was even sufficient to survive without flaw in the vacuum of space. Climate did not bother the seven foot figure as his legs powered through the thick troth of snow as they moved towards the entrance of a facility that wasn't quite formed in a fashion expected.

A large metallic door barred them from entrance but the path had been made clear that there was certainly activity inside. A shift of his white mask turned to face the dark prophet while the wind swept through the feather headdress, rustling it to one side in violent arcs. Another moment of pause before Nazo moved forward, placing both hands upon the structure of the door. For a while nothing happened, until the bolts of hinges fell from the door itself. The figure's movement backpedaled a few steps and then curled both metallic hands into a ball like shape at his side -- and then forcibly thrust forward. The door bent inward as if it had been hit by an invisible ram. It creaked, it groaned and then suddenly broke from the frame and launched inside the structure several yards halting to a skidding stop.

"Knock Knock." Nazo mused telepathically to his mentor as he stood to the side and offered Anaudius first step over the newly liberated threshold.

[member="Anaudius"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

[member="Nazo"]

Despite his cold weather gear, the biting chill sank long fangs into his body. He'd forgotten that he had nerves with which to feel, but it seemed that even sustaining burns across 25% of the body still left him able to relish the discomfort of inclement weather. Ah, Liad. Ever cruel in his blessings. Fools expected gifts without cost. And Anaudius was no fool. He wielded power granted by the Aesir, but for it paid the toll in swathes of burnt and bloodied flesh. He wished to be off this miserable planet as swift as possible for it and Korriban shared many similarities despite their opposite spectrum climates. Both were old, inhospitable, and full of skeletons.

The worshipper of Liad, god of plagues, pursed his lips as he witnessed the looming apprentice crumple the metal of the door and blast it inward. Strange, he had not felt a powerful surge in the Force as was want to accompany such displays. No, this was something else, something foreign. The entity that called itself Nazo was indeed quite foreign to Anaudius. In some ways he held resemblance to Neth, god of knowledge, but in others.... in others he strayed to close to the Void for Anaudius' liking. There was a hunger in this Nazo. Insatiable. Anaudius on the other hand considered himself but a servant of nature, a force, a tool.

Nazo was not a tool.

He was an expanding black hole, slowly drawing in knowledge into that aphotic whirlpool.

Clasping his hands, Anaudius dismissed the thought and ducked inside the long abandoned facility.

"Nazo, let us exchange information. Ask what you will of me and I will show you, but tell me.... how was this-" he gestured with one hand toward the ruined door as he continued to project his words telepathically, "How was this done?"

Anaudius continued to walk into the entrance. The air here was stale and the thick, iced over durasteel walls achieved only to cut the chill of the wind. Anaudius could see naught in the blackness. Lips thinning, he stretched out a palm and conjured the Force into a light of pure white energy that hovered above his palm. A simple feat, but still draining nonetheless. The stark illumination revealed a long hallway that stretched further down and further in.

The Leper followed the hallway as a simultaneous telepathic discussion with his apprentice while walking in a straight line and maintaining a glowing orb of the Force were not beyond his capacities. Whatever had once resided here had long ago abandoned this place. The walls held thick sheets of ice, for there were no active generators to warm the building. Indeed, the descending hallway grew more and more freezing with every step so that Anaudius began to shiver despite himself.

The hallway emerged into a circular room full of frozen over equipment whose nature Anaudius did not fully understand. He frowned, taut, burnt skin growing tighter and stepped forward.

Crunch.

Something gave way beneath his foot, like stepping on a sandcastle. Anaudius looked down. His foot stood firmly planted in the ribcage of a skeleton, half frozen over. He bent down to examine the bones, poking at a rib. Still solid. Interesting, it appeared as though the ice had frozen over the skeleton, thus preserving it from disintegration.

He had been right. This world was full of skeletons.

 

[Nazo]

Of all the descriptions that could be laid upon Nazo; from nomadic to maddening, to enigmatic and sadistic -- one trait laid them all to shame, and permeated his being far more than any other adjective could quite capture. Curiosity. Nazo was a being insatiable in appetite; be it for nourishment, power, or knowledge - he never turned down an opportunity to gain one of the three. Oftentimes preferring to find solace in the fact that he could ultimately fulfill all three main desires in a single setting. A closed off and defunct base in the middle of such harsh arctic climates with signs of care outside enough to push the frost and snow aside; it certainly held secrets. The mysteries of the Galaxy, an unexplained phenomenon, the arcane knowledge to possess and revel within. All this drew him to accompany his mentor as they drew inwards to the now opened structure. What was laid in secret within this tomb of metallic tomb of ice and snow was of great interest to the space slug, and apparently it was also of importance to the servant of Liad.

Footfalls resounded within the empty corridor as the acoustics echoed back their pathway. The metallic ring harmonized within his auditory receptors before the darkness enveloped their pathway. Only the refracted light of the snow outside cast a dimly lit cone of light for them to peer into the obscurity beyond. His Master pausing to question their entry caught Nazo's proverbial ear, and caused his seven foot frame to turn. The corridor was wide enough to permit entry, but just tall enough so that his headdress rustled against the eight foot tall ceiling, brushing across the frost layer above. A bargain to be struck between the two, knowledge for knowledge, and understanding for it's own. An acceptable set of terms were deduced and a slow nod of the masked figure was given. What Anaudius needed was clarification on what exactly Nazo was, and to further unravel the mystery of his new apprentice. It was not an uncommon request, but it was made in an uncommon matter. The phrase often used was simply 'What the kark is that thing?!' He'd heard that many times.

"Magnetism." Nazo answered with his mind, his metallic digits reaching out on each hand, pointed towards the concave and warped metallic door. It's form began to rattle and shake, trembling there on the ground. It's structure was far more rigid in the doorway, and with the proper amount of preparation in eating away the hinges, he had managed to spring the door free and cause the sight. It's dense material laying on the ground was more difficult, but still manageable. The audible grown of the door came as it shook and then in an instant snapped into the clawed digits of his hands, held fast and firm. "Iron deposits in the plasma form the base." He was speaking of his species' innate ability to manipulate a magnetic resonance in a substantial range from his body - but it wasn't exactly a clear answer. Setting the door to the side, and propping it up against a wall, Nazo turned and offered his right hand palm side up for inspection. Drawing back the sleeve of his grey and red cloth, the visible tongue he had seen before on Korriban slithered out, bending back and forth.

"Contact with sentience is unsteady. Panic, pain, madness. However, knowledge awaits - insight abounds." He let his hand dip lower due to their height difference, offering up the chance to touch the alien tongue of the slug so that he might meld minds with the dark prophet and use his innate form of communication to form a more full picture of what the dark prophet sought. He warned him though, which was not normal behavior for Nazo. On many occasion he had simply taken someone by the face and attempted to directly communicate. That was mostly unpleasant, and he still wanted this one to be sane when he was finished. Anaidius had much to teach him, and thus a warning was given. A single touch would allow the creature to manipulate the brain chemistry of whomever he touched in order to influence his thoughts to transmit in a way that was jarring for just about everyone he'd ever encountered. Telepathy was far easier on the bipedals - where as those of his own species would sing great anthems with the gift of magnetic speech.

If the opportunity to learn was accepted, and Anaudius allowed his warped flesh to make contact, Nazo's metallic digits would clasp over in a firm, but non-painful grip to keep the connection consistent. Soon the stirring of the dark prophet's mind would rumble into an excited frenzy before the world he now saw and heard vanished in a cacophony of jumbled sounds. Like the roaring of the Naboo waterfalls, the sound of a thousands system became an instant deafening din. The images of Nazo vanished would vanish as well, as the ocular receptors of his brain were now prey to that of Nazo's own thoughts that he transmitted. The scene dashed into pieces as the rushing cosmos whipped by him at lightspeed. The final outcome came at a jolting stop until all at once Anaudius was standing on the home planet of Nazo's species. Images flashed before him, as he was transported through time and space, for a history lesson of these alien creatures.

"These are my people, my family. We live for far longer than your kind dreams of, and our musings reach to the highest of philosophical content. Normally my kind is silent, testing the Galaxy, and investigating the deeper things, the unlocked truths, and seeking the unknown. Our native ability to speak has been harnessed and focused in my time abroad." While the vision was clear, and concise, showing many different of his kind, and even himself on the journeys he had taken, the connection was still daunting to adapt to. This was an highly unusual form of communication for most, and it was not easy to bare. His explanation seemed far more lucid though, now that he could manipulate the dark prophet's brain chemistry to understand his own sordid musings. "This vessel.." He continued. "...that you know is but my only means of mobility and interaction. My own form is slow and sluggish, only capable of movement in the glacial sense. We need not breathe, or call for warmth or chill. My people however are peaceable. This Force you speak of, it calls to me, draws out what others consider darkness. Now, you see me as I am, now you understand the mystery I present. I seek to understand your mystery, the truth of your Force, and the powers I have not yet dreamed."

In an instant flash, (most likely followed by an amazing headache) Nazo left his grip go and let his own hand drop to the side. His form watching and waiting for the follower of Liad to collect himself. It was an experience he had seen in others. In the ones with no preparation, no fortitude, he'd seen fall into seizures and go into shock. He'd even made some weaker in the mind go into a catatonic state. He found that particular instance enjoyable and hilarious. Still, he waited until the man would right himself. Both hands moved the folds of his cloak, and pulled back the fabric layers till Anaudius could clearly see Nazo's slug form within the chest cavity protected by the exoskeleton he wore around him.

[member="Anaudius"]​

 

[Sal Katarn]

@[member="Nazo"]

All other pains seemed small in comparison for someone who had undergone the excruciating agony of devaronian blood poison. Even so, Anaudius was ill prepared for the sudden rush of sensation as the sights, sounds, and even feel of the snow-buried facility were replaced by those of Nazo's choosing. Anaudius saw and heard all that Nazo wished him to see and hear, unable to resist the biochemical nature of the mind alteration and lacking the compulsion to do so even if he could.

The member of the Wol species finally released him. Anaudius stumbled backward, stomach rioting in confusion as time and space came rushing back into stark clarity. He dry heaved for several moments, breath rushing out into the cold air. When he looked up he saw the strange creature encapsulated by metal and fabric. The prophet's brows lowered, burn-scarred skin stretching tight. His head rang furiously, but he was not disgusted by the nature of Nazo's appearance anymore than he was of his own. Disgust at appearances was anathema to followers of the plague god Liad. Those who served him were all misfigured in some horrific way, a mark of service to the Plaguebringer. There were far more disturbing sights in the galaxy than Nazo's true appearance.... such as the frozen over skeletons that littered the whole of this room.

Anaudius wheezed heavily. "Interesting. Ever another lay to thee, friend Nazo."

Regaining his breath at last, Anaudius held up his palm so that the orb of light revealed the rest of the room. He scoured the room, picking over the contents.

"There is little here of use, much of it is frozen over and likely the electronics used in these experiments were destroyed. Although I can say with some certainty that those tubes near the wall appear to be Spaarti cloning cylinders. I do not have the resources for such an excavation." He looked at the ground. "This appears to have been a slaughter. Come, there is nothing for us here, I would hear what you make of this matter while we walk back to the shuttle. The air here threatens me with its cold, insidious fingers."

 

[Nazo]

Revelation had been granted, and now Anaudius had seen Nazo for who he truly was. The space slug shifted his robes again, letting the figure he had constructed become whole once more. Knowledge was granted, and the mystery was made apparent. He didn't often show his true form for lack of need, and at times just a precaution against violence. Nazo wasn't wholly violent or aggressive. He took a very pragmatic approach to violence, and always for another end. He didn't see violence, aggression, or ego as these bipeds often did. His alien mind, so distant from the social statuses held different motives for just about every action. He was a brilliant mimic though, able to replicate and reproduce social queues that made this form seem lifelike enough to consider him to be somewhat relatable, if only in action alone.

In all things death was constant. The end of life by feature or design was a subject of great inquiry and fascination. Not only from Nazo's morbid point of view, but countless sentience across the great Galaxy had pondered, pontificated, and even written prose on the subject. Like these iced over partial skeletons littering the frosted laboratory, Nazo had seen Death in just about every form. Earlier in his already lengthy escapade through the stars, he'd witnessed the tail end of the Gulag Plague. While being immune to that particular poison, he had watched hundreds of creatures, great and small succumb to its grizzly fate. Planet after planet had been ravaged and destroyed in the grip of the seemingly unstoppable attack. Eventually though the evolution of necessity created a tolerance to the sickness that was so notable in the historic records of nearly every civilization. The Plague itself had fascinated Nazo, as apparently it had come from a single unknown source, of which made him wonder if he too had the potential to create such a cataclysmic and paradigm altering experiment on the masses.

Nazo wasn't aware of the Moross Crusade, or their pantheon of gods -- aside from what little that this dark prophet had mentioned. Liad the Plague Bringer seemed to have a loose correlation to that particular even in history that had rocked star systems far and wide. Perhaps it was he who had bestowed this sickness on the Galaxy, perhaps at the peak of his worship, and thereby increased his flock over and above what he once had. Having no subscription to a deity himself, Nazo merely mulled over the possibility while his companion and mentor picked over the husks of bones that resided in this frozen lab turned tomb. It was a place of rest, a place of death, and now just a memorial to dead men's bones. Metallic digits even dared to lift off some of the bone fragments and test their endurance in his durasteel grip. Cracking and then reducing them to rubble from their long proximity to the ice that covered them.

"Walk on the living they don't even mumble." Nazo stated telepathically as he moved to exit the laboratory and return to the corridor. "Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble." The space slug rhymed indicating that the crunch of bones was the only sound that the dead bones had to offer to their visitation upon them. Anaudius asked for his thoughts, and they had come out in a riddle, further proving how enigmatic his own thoughts were when not paired to the mind of another. The robes about him fluttered and pressed to the durasteel frame as the arctic wind cut against his frame from the still open doorway. The bright white light at the end of the tunnel not a symbol of the embrace of the Force, but just the reflection of light upon the stark white canvas of this planet's permafrost landscape.

[member="Anaudius"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

Burnt flesh tightened beneath the snow goggles as Anaudius frowned at Nazo's words. Enigmatic did not nearly begin to describe the Wol. He found the resurgence of wind as they exited the facility a welcome chill when compared to the frozen, dead depths. Wind even when fraught with snow still held the taste of freedom.

The Leper didst hate this barren world. It reminded of the possibility of his future, an emptiness, an eternal nothing. Yet if he continued to serve Liad faithfully perhaps he would see the Great Hall and join as part of a family, welcome, and blessed with a lack of pain. He'd grown used to the agony of his existence, burned beyond recognition and surviving with traces of devaronian blood poison in his system.

He surveyed the white plains. Where to now? He licked his crackling, numb lips and turned toward Nazo.

A spear shot out of the blizzard and skewered through Anaudius' lower torso, piercing tattered brown robes and ramming through flesh and muscle. A ragged sigh escaped his lips and he sank to his knees, wide eyes staring at enormous figures emerging from the snowfall.

- - -

In his 18 sky rotations of existence Yez had never seen anything like the comet that blazed down from the skies while he was out on the hunting party. The older Talz in the group said that their ancestors had told of such comets that crossed between the skies, visiting distant worlds. But there had been no such comets come to visit Alzoc in many hundreds of sky rotations. The hunters feared what this foretold. They had debated returning to the village to warn the elders, but it was decided against.

They had watched the two aliens descend from the comet and enter that place. The place from which he had emerged. The Grey Hunter, a terror which had haunted the villages and tribes since long before Yez was born. His people had been gentle, once, but the Grey Demon had forced them to turn their claws to arts of war. Yez shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold. His claws tightened around his spear and he urged the narglatch mount forward.

[Look, they return, Tozzk] he chirped.

The leader of the hunting group buzzed a reply, [They look like the Grey Demon. Kill one, capture the other.] He turned toward Yez and raised his spear. [Attack]

Yez sat his tall bulk firmly in the saddle. His white fur blew about in the wind, coated with frost. His four black eyes looked down at his claws. They were long, sharp claws. Sherka loved his claws. After he defeated these demons he would return proudly to the village. Perhaps then she would take him as a mate. The narglatch shambled forward. Yez hefted his spear and drew back his arm, then he hurled it at the foremost demon with all his might. The bone-fashioned spear impaled the demon and sent him to his knees.

The other Talz in the hunting party then moved on their narglatch mounts to encircle the two demons. They leveled their spears at the surviving one, while the other sat on his knees, blood painting the snow a deep red.

Yez dismounted and approached, drawing forth a bone dagger. [What are you?] he chirped in Talzzi, his four black eyes focusing on the taller demon.

[member="Nazo"]

 

[Nazo]

Neither inside the chamber, safe from the arctic gusts of wind, nor outside in the full assault of the ice world's elements mattered to the curious space slug as he accompanied Anaudius from the abandoned laboratory on Alzoc III. His focus was simply on discovery, and knowledge - either gained from the mission at hand, or from his dark prophet companion who had promised to discourse with him and reveal untold abilities, and how to wield them. Even before the pair ventured from the corridor leading towards the snowy plains of the planet, Nazo peeled off a metallic panel from one of the walls, and held it against his chest, aiming to feed off the structure while they walked. His species were well equipped for multi-tasking, devoting one brain to the act of feeding and the other to all cognitive processes. The metallic surface began to blacken and dis-color as the slug fed and their presence ejected from the corridor and into the snowy banks of the planet.

This place was certainly a stark contrast to most of the worlds he had visited. Aside from the merry Gizka within the transport, and his new-found companion; the servant of Liad, Nazo hadn't seen another alive soul stamping across the fresh white powder. He didn't even register the pack that was coming through the consistent blizzard on their location. Thus when a long pike like object ripped through the air and stabbed viciously into the dark prophet, it took him a few seconds to register that they indeed not alone. Other sentients with emotions that were less alien than his would of immediately came to Anaudius' aide. Nazo still didn't understand compassion for travel partners. Though he'd likely do unspeakable evil to anyone who dared hurt his pet, Anaudius was given a cold and blank stare, both from the mask and the slug inside his exoskeleton.

A trio of observations occurred in Nazo's brain as he surmised the damage. Then the conclusion was formed. The spear had intersected the abdomen at a eighty-seven degree angle perpendicular to the dark prophet's torso. The blood that began to spill had come from a damaged arterial vein, which meant the the blood loss would be entire within the next half an hour without medical attention. Lastly, he estimated that the tip of the spear had lanced seven point two inches within the torso at a thirty six degree downward angle. Prognosis: Death was eminent, and couldn't be reversed by any methods he currently understood. However, while compassion was lost on the space slug, he wasn't without understanding of the gravity of the situation. Anaudius was dying, which meant that he wouldn't be able to fully instruct Nazo in the ways of the dark side. It also meant that he'd have to navigate a course for himself off this world in a ship he wasn't fully capable of piloting. This was displeasing news.

A myriad of clicking and buzzing sounds tore the wanderer's attention away from the fatally wounded dark prophet and towards the Talz. Hulking creatures covered in white four with four beady eyes baring down on the two of them. Despite the bone tipped spear being lanced in his direction, Nazo merely tilted his mask at the moment, letting both hands and the distorted metal plate fall to his sides. This was not a language Nazo could understand, and while he knew many in the Galaxy, he hadn't come across this dialect as of yet. With about twenty hours and a good reference material, he might of been able to crack the language system - but he was devoid of time or the proper resources. Another head tilt the other direction until Nazo decided his next move. Instantly a high pitched scream of terror blasted in the minds of all Talz present. The unearthly shrill cry deafened their minds, and no matter how much they tried to plug their ears, the sound wouldn't abate as it resounded in each and every one of their minds. Some of the Talz even lost their balance and fell off their mounts. The others on the snow covered ground simply fell to their knees in pain. They wouldn't understand him in plain speech, and he knew not what they were saying. This was the only method of communication he had available, to incapacitate them, turning them from being a current threat.

[member="Anaudius"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

The Talz surrounding the pair of off-worlders all fell into a state of confused frenzy as the horrific shriek sounded in their minds. Several slipped off their mounts, bodies falling to the snow. Others clutched at their heads and chirped furiously. Yez himself could not comprehend the agonizing mental lance that pierced his thoughts. He collapsed, knees crunching into the white tundra.

He swung wildly with his bone dagger, but was not in range of @Nazo.

In all the commotion, another figure appeared. He wore the white fur of skinned Talz and carried with him a sharpened blade made from what appeared to be the thigh bone of a Talz. Tall by human standards, yet short by that of Alzoc's, he moved with a lithe grace and preternatural speed through the circle of hunters. He lashed out with his blade at the agonized Talz, showing no mercy as he ruthlessly slaughtered them. Unable to provide defense due to the Wol's mental attack, they fell one by one. Often he simply bashed rather than cut with the dull bladed weapon, spinning and whirling in a dance of death. The blood of the hunters cartwheeled through the air in ribbons and strings until at last the grey-skinned humanoid stood still in a circle of bodies.

Panicked, leg broken, Yez attempted to crawl away from the creature of his nightmares. Not the Grey Demon, not the-

Legs entered his vision and he looked up to meet burning red eyes. [No] he chirped. The humanoid swung his crude weapon down with a crack onto the Talz's skull and Yez was no more.

The red-eyed demon turned to regard the two survivors. One lived, yet seemed foreign to him. The other resembled his creators. Hatred twisted his lips and he clenched a square jaw. He lowered his hood, letting white hair whip about in the frigid gale. He stepped forward until he stood just in front of the human. A spear jutted from his belly and even now the snow turned crimson with his blood. He would die before sunset. The Demon placed his bone club beneath the man's chin and tilted it up.

"I sense... power," he uttered in a resonating voice that thrummed with might. The Hunger filled him, ever-present yet he had never felt it in such strength before. He paid little heed to the second creature. He would deal with him later, though he too hummed with the same energy.

Anaudius looked up and into those red eyes. "Liad?" he rasped.

"No," uttered the grey-skinned humanoid. "Duvain."

Twin proboscises flared out from hidden cheek pockets and snaked up Anaudius' nostrils. Duvain's eyes widened as he fed upon the human's brain. He had never tasted such life before. At once, power flooded the humanoid's being and a crackling aura of purple energy appeared around his figure. Memories followed quickly, flashing by almost too quickly for him to comprehend as he unwittingly absorbed not only Anaudius' power in the Force, but also his knowledge. Any ordinary human would have been torn apart by such a download of new information, but Duvain was old. He had lived upon this planet for over three hundred years, struggling to survive by feeding on these pathetic Talz. And in all those years he had never felt such power from a feeding.

The proboscises retracted and Duvain let the corpse collapse. He stumbled backward, brow lowering in confusion. The corpse's name was Anaudius, Seth Shorn, follower of Liad, member of the Moross Crusade, Praetor of the Royal Guard, starfighter pilot of the Republic, brother to Mikhail Shorn, son to Kasperli Shorn. He knew every detail of this man's life. Something like regret tinged his emotive state. He had killed him, but... the power he had gained.

Duvain closed his eyes and felt a surge of foreign memories, spells and incantations, the Force. Ah, so that's what it was called... this strength he wielded. Duvain shuddered in rapture. At last, he opened his eyes. There was something else that reverberated power here. A weapon. He stretched out a hand and called a black hilted lightsaber to his hand. Red eyes peered at the dragon-headed emitter. The Soulsaber, another memory from this Anaudius. Strange, it whispered against his mind trying to influence him. A sentient blade? He crushed the intruding thoughts with an apathetic ruthlessness. It held no sway over him.

Turning, he regarded the metal apparition before him. More memories entered his mind. "Nazo," he spoke in that deep, resonating voice. And then his eyes widened as a ship appeared in his mind's eye. He looked over his shoulder. Escape. Escape from this wretched planet at long last.

Red eyes returend to @Nazo. "You will take me off this planet."

 

[Nazo]

A blanket of white snow had created the canvas to the scene, inviting the invisible yet undeniable hand of fate to lift the brush and paint. Strokes of the bristles shifted the Talz from their mounts, as the unseen, and physically silent shriek resounded in their primitive minds. Long strokes of agony drew them into subjection in a writhing and chirping madness. Crafting emotion with every swirl of color in those beady black eyes swam like a current to the slug who saw no cause to stop his assault. This was not retribution or even vengeance at play. He cared not for the life around him, nor did he see the need to foster any kind of compassion for his fallen mentor. While knowledge would again elude the slug, he was certain that Anaudius was not the only sentient in the Galaxy that could wield such power. Eventually he would find another, perhaps by the talents of fate's fair sibling; luck.

A stroke of grey interrupted the scene, and danced with short precise strokes as a figure dusted with the pelt of the Talz emerged from the veil of white to rid the Talz of their madness, and take them into the embrace of a violent demise. Bashed skulls, and bloodied throats rose in gurgling cries of pain and anguish. More emotions flooded as the dying of the furred animals further excited the still motionlessly space slug. Even the mounts were not safe from the vicious and cruel movements as this warrior dispatched with them all in fury and wrath. Despite the ferocity of the movements, they spoke of grace and balance. Dealing out brutality to the defenseless creatures while their useless minds couldn't cope with the two-pronged attack. And then, like the design of desnity, their lives were sequentially blotted out, leaving nothing but shallow rapidly cooling husks laying in their own pools of vitae.

The approach was made leveling a soft crunch of fresh snow step by step until Duvain stood before the fallen dark prophet. Nazo made no move to stop or to interfere - the curiosity of what would come next had drawn him in, and kept him at bay. A misanthrope to the fullest, his desires were quite selfish, allowing him to watch the spectacle with an objective mindset. A mere exchange of identity came before the white haired demon struck out with two miniature tendrils of flesh to attach onto that of the servant of Liad. The came that luxurious pain that ripped into his former mentor - tearing away all that made him, him. His psyche, his intellect, his power, and his knowledge. Every drop of the intangible seeped through that twin connection, running in a stream of memories and traits into that of the red-eyed demon. It touched a hallmark to the space slug's own tongue that could also affect a sentient being. This was more of a pull though, while Nazo's was far more based on manipulation than anything else.

The jolt away directed the attention of Nazo's white mask as it snapped him from the relishing of emotion. Anaudius was no more, he had left the physical plane on which he could be sensed. His fallen form devoid of life no longer called to Nazo. His presence, his power now radiated with the demon. There had been a transfer of essence, and of knowledge. Now instead of what he had felt upon seeing Duvain for the first time, he now felt his mentor's power within him. He assumed that had to be a very complicated and crowded mental playground to host such power and memories along with his own. Though as he spoke, it confirmed that Nazo was familiar to him as well.

"As it was, so shall it be." His only response - and it was pure guesswork if Duvain would understand the reference. Nazo had inadvertently rescued Anaudius from the capture of Korriban, and now he was also going to lead the new version of his master from the isolation of Alzoc III. How quickly history repeated itself. Still, Nazo's form moved, passing by the dead and mutilated corpses and moving in the direction to which the ship was awaiting the return.

[member="Duvain"]