Eternal Father
Malsheem, Uncharted Space
Sparks flew with every strike of the hammer, a loud ring sang out as it struck the shard of black glass. Gloved hand gripped the tongs tight as the glass was flipped over, the hammer striking again and again. Under normal circumstances, glass would've shattered under such heat and strain, but this was not ordinary glass. It had been harvested at great expense from the depths of the volcanic world Mustafar, chiseled away from a vein of obsidian far beneath where the fortress of Darth Vader once stood. It was intrinsically imbued with the Dark Side, gestating over many hundreds of years in darkness.
Likewise, the hammer that struck it repeatedly was no ordinary blacksmith's tool, for it too was imbued with the Dark Side and inscribed with many runes upon its surface. Whenever the two connected, the Dark Side cried aloud in triumph and agony. Again, the glass was flipped and struck accordingly. It was slowly coming into shape, beaten by the methodic hammer swings of the smith. Not only was this morphing the shard of glass into the proper configuration, but also amplifying and condensing the dark energy trapped within.
Darth Carnifex's brow was slick with sweat, but that did not concern Him. He swung the hammer, flipped the glass, and swung again. Long had He toiled over this piece, spending many hours in the darkness and heat of the forge. Unnatural blue flame crackled up from within the forge's heart, roaring with hatred. Hefting the shard with His tongs, Carnifex plunged the piping hot glass into a ceramic urn. Within was a mass of platinum metal, which parted like liquid as the tip of the sharp met it. He submerged the entire shard, the surface of the platinum metal bubbling and seething, before dredging it back up a few moments later.
Rivers of platinum clung to the black shard, only to seep into the glass and disappear entirely. Then, Carnifex, placed the shard back onto the anvil, and resumed His labor.
When He did emerge from the forge, He held aloft a blade of obsidian glass in His bare hands. It had been perfectly sharpened down into a two foot long blade that was honed along either side before meeting into an impossibly sharp point. The entire blade shimmered with dark energy. Carnifex brought the blade to a vice-clamp, and affixed it firmly within. He reached for a hilt, one that He had fashioned prior to this moment, and began to affix it to the bottom of the blade where a rod of square glass protruded. Unlike traditionally forged swords, He did not have to burn the hilt onto the blade for a tight fit; the blade and the hilt became as one the moment they were joined.
Carnifex then slipped the glass blade into a scabbard and affixed it 'round His waist, turning to leave the moment this was accomplished. He then disappeared from sight, only to reappear seconds later in a large assembly hall many, many kilometers from where He'd just been. Others had been assembled in this hall, those that had pledged fealty to Him and remained true. They had been summoned to answer His call, for conflict with the other Sith factions had finally begun. The war of knives was in full-swing, and blood stained every world from Jutrand to Polis Massa.
He stood before them, tall and crowned with dark majesty.
"The time has come, my faithful. The Corpse-God and the Snake have moved against us, and they have drawn first blood. For their transgressions, we will drown them in it."
