From the Ashes

[Laira Darkhold]

Darth Vulkan had not lived in the galaxy for long, having claimed the thrones and offices once held by Draco Vereen. It had been a short time, a day or so since the Sith Lord had reforged himself in the fires of the mountain of Clan Vereen. The clan was the last vestiges that held the man’s former name. He hardly considered them to be the same person anymore, having taken on his true identity that had lain hidden deep within throughout the first thirty years of his life.

Before, he had always assumed he would die young, and then with Abigail, he had decided to live as long as he could to spend as much time with her as was possible. Draco had regretted hiding her away, as it had cost him time with her as a child, but Vulkan did not. It had allowed him to remain young and in his prime now that she was lost. Were he a much older man he could not be as intimidating as he was now. No, fate had a way of working out.

The planet of Korriban, also known as Moraband loomed in the viewscreen of the ship as it reverted from hyperspace. Bearing One Sith IFF codes, with any luck the Primeval wouldn’t mind the Sith Lord stomping around their backyard. And if they did, well, who cared.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The red rimmed grey eyes cast upon the small crew from behind the visor of the helmet. Vulkan considered himself apart, neither Mandalorian, or Sith, but he heralded to both. Draco had been honorable and sustained by his connection with individuals, whereas Vulkan saw only useful people and useless people. “Take the ship to land on the outskirts. I have no wish to be delayed here any longer than is absolutely necessary.” His voice deeper, more grating than it had been a few days ago. One of the subtle changes from Draco.

The pilot nodded and angled the corvette down towards the planet steering away from the population centers of the planet. Even when their master had been stalwart Mandalorian, he had still worked jobs for the One Sith and called them allies on several occasions.

There were not many things that held Vulkan’s interests anymore, not companionship, not love, not crafting. He only sought distractions when he was bored now, and this trip he didn’t consider a distraction, it was a means to gain strength so that he might be able to entertain himself when he came to battle more than before.

The ship entered atmosphere without so much as a shake and continued through the cover the clouds breaking through them and soaring down to the planet’s surface, not terribly far from the Valley of the Dark Lords.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The ship settled on the surface of Korriban and slowly the boarding ramp descended. From within the grey, beskar clad Sith Lord walked from the ship, his sabatons causing his footfalls to have an audible thud against the ramp until he stomped onto the planet, red dust rising from where his feet fell. Behind him a small group of mandalorian warriors stood in their armor, securing the ship lead by Ner’val, the Defel Dark Jedi assassin that often accompanied Vulkan.

“Ner’val, remain here with the ship and await my return.” The defel nodded and faded into the shadow of the ship. One of the other warriors spoke up, “How long should we wait before coming to get you.”

The Sith lord mused on the question for a second. “Only come for me if my vitals read critical.” The warriors shuffled but remained at their posts at the ship.

He cast his gaze at the Valley of the Dark Lords in the distance as he walked through the desolate wasteland of Korriban, the massive stone statues looming in the distance. Which tomb he sought was still a bit of a mystery, but Vulkan would discover which one he was after soon enough. He lacked the knowledge of the tombs to accurately gauge which was which. He intended to simply let the Force guide him to his goal.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Minutes turned to hours as the Sith Lord wandered the ruins of the Valley of the Dark Lord. For the past ten or so years the Valley had seen about as much excavation as it had during the era of the Sith Empire. Every Sith Lord from across the galaxy eventually made a trek here, like a pilgrimage to their Mecca.

Dust swept through the Valley as he wandered the ruins, thus far the Force having been little help. The valley was steeped in the Dark Side and radiated with its power. It was a good feeling being in a place like this for Vulkan, but the longer it took, the more frustrated he became. <Where the hell is that tomb. It couldn’t have vanished.> The thoughts echoed in his head as he mulled them over wandering towards the recently reclaimed Sith Academy.

The dimly light former temple had been abandoned, reclaimed, abandoned, and reclaimed a thousand times throughout history and had thus been left in a state of disrepair as of late. Why anyone would bother venturing into the Academy was up to debate. Nothing physical of any value should remain within the temple, but no doubt the next Sith to venture into the valley would find something tucked away that had been over looked a dozen times over.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Vulkan walked through the ruined and ancient halls of the building. It had been reclaimed less than a year ago it felt like, maybe two by the Primeval, but he had never heard of it being reopened for students and acolytes to begin training. There was unfortunately, nothing of value he could find.

Each minute that passed, his patience, cold calm exterior seemed to melt a little more. Perhaps he was not simply a husk, out for no other reason than to be out amongst the peasants. Sweat had started to build on his brow as dust lazily drifted through the air of the temple. The arid world was hot and uncomfortable for sure, but certainly his climate control should be keeping such things at bay.

Vulkan pulled the helmet off, feeling his perception slow somewhat, as he wiped his brow and scowled. Where was the tomb?

He flicked on his life support monitor and observed it. His heart rate and everything was normal, then why did he feel uncomfortable? The questions buzzed through his mind as he stomped through the rear parts of the ancient pyramid built into the rock.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

After an hour of searching the dungeons and crevices of the academy Vulkan came to a small corridor that lead deeper underground where perhaps the tomb had been hidden. After all, the Sith had been iconic for their paranoia and long search for immortality. He was quieter now, walking normally, his foot falls muffled by the sound dampeners built into his armor.

Vulkan wasn’t certain what he would find here, but he knew he craved it, and his frustration was slowly being replaced by anxiety, albeit very little. His emotions were drastically reduced these days. Vulkan had thought he had been simply dead inside with no emotion what so ever, but as he searched these ruins he understood this was not true. He had trouble showing them, feeling his emotions, and expressing them. He could appear utterly emotionless, but deep inside he still felt them, they still tugged against his will on occasion.

After a short trip he could see the sarcophagus, not unlike the one on Ziost that had caused his fall into the abyss and lead to his reforging. A small half smile appeared on his face as he approached the coffin, trying to call forth the long dead Sith Lord’s spirit from it so that he could confront it as he walked up the steps to of the dais is sat upon.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Vulkan approached the sarcophagus and shoved it open with his hand, calling out through the Force for the specter that should have already confronted him. He was an intruder in its territory, seeking its secrets in its tomb. Why would the spirit of one of the most fearsome Sith not face him outright? Was he that strong in the Force that even the shadowy remnant of a Sith Lord of ancient power dare not face the might of Vulkan?

No, prideful as he might be, he was not so arrogant to think he could intimidate the spirit of a Dark Lord by his mere presence. Given the chance, perhaps he could defeat them, but intimidate, scare into inaction, no. That was beyond the realm of the Sith Lord’s abilities and his capability of believing himself capable.

But if that was the case where was the specter? Why had it not come forth? He reached out in all directions, seeking every corner for any essence of the Sith Lord, and then he felt it, in the depths of the sarcophagus. Not a seeping pit of darkness and hatred, but the calm. The Light.

Something had happened in the mystery of the years and there was no more specter to seek, no more spirit of the Sith Lord. Someone, some Jedi, had seen to it that no one would ever face it again.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The cold calm demeanor of Darth Vulkan fell away as he shook with anger that radiated out from him like a beacon. Physically there was only a little change in his expression as he stood leaning against the sarcophagus, breathing deeply, like one would if they trying to calm themselves and regain their composure.

There were no thoughts buzzing through the mind of the Sith Lord. He was so livid he had come full circle. His life support monitors buzzed about his blood pressure rising exponentially. Finally he moved, slowly withdrawing the mace on his back and gripping it. For a moment he just stood looking at the mace, studying it.

Then, in a flash he smashed the beskar power mace into the sarcophagus with a roar, sending shards and splinters of the coffin in all directions as he slammed the mace into the ruins again and again, each time roaring with rage and frustration. After leveling the empty sarcophagus, no longer home to the long dead Sith Lord, he stepped back, letting the mace drop to the floor and channeling the Force through his hands, conjuring up a burst of flame, pouring the fire into the ruins.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Parts of the stone was molten slag as the fires died, and the splinters and fragments of the sarcophagus were scattered under the oppressive weight of Vulkan’s power. After a moment of looking at the wreckage, the Sith walked backwards and picked up his mace, returning it to its proper place on his back. Once it was hanging back in place Vulkan walked to the bottom of the steps and dropped to a seat.

He breathed in deeply, leveling out his heart rate and lowering his blood pressure. He took a second breath and closed his eyes. He needed a moment of introspection in order collect himself. Only after a second he stood up and began to leave the tomb. What had happened here required some time to think and reassess the situation.

The sun from the planet shined down on Vulkan as he walked back out into the desert. Dry wind blew over him, sand mixing with his sweat as he walked through the valley of the Dark Lords. Perhaps it was this planet, so long permeated with the Dark Side that it threw the Sith off his balance. The fact he could be thrown at all was new to Vulkan, shadows of his past self.

Korriban had yielded no results and the mandalorian was at a loss for where to go next as he walked through the sands of the planet.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Vulkan walked through the sands of Korriban as the sun began to set beneath the dunes as he approached his ship. The sleek black corvette sat alone on the sands of Korriban and the mandalorian warriors arrayed around it were at varying states of alertness. They had noticed him walking up a while ago, they had simply not reacted to his approach until he got close.

Now they were rising from vantage points, moving from easily defended rock outcroppings, and heading back to the ship. “Get aboard. We are leaving immediately.” The warriors new better than to ask questions as of yet. Even when he had been relatively stable, pestering the large Mandalorian when he was lacking patience was a mistake few made twice. Now that Draco had been replaced by Vulkan they were still unsure as to his mental state and whether he would be more akin to command with a Vader Style.

Once aboard the black ship Darth Vulkan took to his meditation chamber and closed his eyes. Ner’val appeared beside him after a moment, silently slipping from the shadows to take his place beside his Lord and Master. The sound of repulsorlifts and thrusters erupted before being drowned out by the calming sound dampeners in the room as it sealed.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The defel on the ship slumped down beside Darth Vulcan without so much as a whisper. For a moment the two simply sat in silence before Ner’val spoke, his voice raspy and quiet. “You did not find what you sought on Korriban?” It was said with an inflection indicating the creature was asking a question, but the defel already knew the answer.

Korriban was rapidly disappearing behind the ship as it made its way from the ancient Sith world. The man sat in silence, waiting until the ship entered the swirling blue void of Hyperspace before he bothered to say anything. “No, I did not find what I was looking for. Make course for Dxun. Maybe I can find clues there, and its coreward. After Dxun if I do not find what I seek, I have an ally on Tython that can be of assistance.” The instructions given the Defel stood and quietly left the room, leaving the Sith alone with his thoughts.

The warrior needed to address his circumstances again. He had thought he had cast off his emotions, but instead it seemed he simply needed a heavy handed push to express them. Perhaps he was not as hollow as he had originally believed. Perhaps the only emotion he could feel was anger, and even then only under extreme circumstances. It didn’t matter much, but it was important that he train his emotions to remain hidden better than they had been on Korriban. Either way, Dxun would hold some answers, even if only the answers he sought for himself, and not from some ancient Dark Lord.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The short trip to Dxun was uneventful, the Sith Lord simply sat in his meditation chamber, thinking to himself, pondering on his own existence while the Mandalorians of his crew made the preparations for reversion and to make an excursion on to the moon of Onderon. Not long ago their master had hunted Sith on Onderon, though he had failed to take a shot or bother to shoot anything. He had been content at the time with his alliance and hadn’t wished to exacerbate his situation at the time.

He sat thinking alone. Before Abigail’s presence in Draco’s life the man had been distraught, working alongside Sith without hesitation for money and continued wellbeing of his clan. Then with her inclusion he had drifted away from the dark, felt remorse, mercy, and wished to be rid of the guilt of some of his past actions. Not battles he had fought in, those were inevitable, but decision he had made alone without influence. Decisions that would not have happened without his say so. Then despite all of his mistakes, he still had one claim. He had still had Abigail, and that had sufficed until she became lost to him.

Even now Darth Vulkan was aware that he loved the girl as his own child, his only weakness. But while he held sentiment for the being that walked the earth in her form, it was not actually her. Vulkan considered what he would do if she, possessed as she was, turned on him. He presumed he would attempt to subdue her and only slay her if he was forced to, but that was a far fetch from the demon he envisioned himself as.

No, he could hold that one weakness, and still lay claim to such a title. He cared only for himself and his own. It wasn’t sentiment, it was about respect. If people could take what was his from him, he was not feared. And if he was not feared, he was not respected.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The black ship landed on the moon of Onderon and Darth Vulkan left his clansmen behind once again walking onto the moon and finding a quiet spot to meditate and contemplate his path. He didn’t find lasting enjoyment in much of anything anymore. Even smithing and crafting didn’t bring the man any sense of accomplishment.

The last great thing he had done was the sacking of Chazwa, and even then it had just been a battle. He closed his eyes and reached into the Force, expanding his presence and sitting calmly in a clearing of the planet. His presence and the aura of fear and loathing he exuded kept away many creatures that might otherwise seek him out while he sat patiently.

“Search the area for a few Orbalisks. I only wish to observe them, I have no wish to be incased in the creatures.” Really all he wanted to do was ponder the little beetles and think on what had driven the Sith before him. Not the One Sith, Vulkan didn’t subscribe to the rulership of their Dark Lord and his cause. War and fighting was a decent enough cause, but serving for the sake of serving a powerful Sith was not his game, nor was galactic domination.

Within an hour the Mandalorians had found a small group of Orbalisks and relayed the information on their location to Darth Vulkan. He stood watching them mill about, feeling their presence through the Force. He pondered what had driven Darth Bane, the sith Lord whose spirit he had sought to take them into himself.

<I do not crave ultimate power like some, but instead what do I crave?> The thought buzzed around in his head for a moment before he concluded on an answer. <Nothing.>

<So what is it I am doing?> Another short pause. <Leaving a legacy.> The particulars weren’t important. He didn’t wish or seek out dying in battle, though it was very likely, but instead sought to leave his own imprint on the galaxy.

“Ready the ship. I need to speak with Carach if we are to continue.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The blue swirling mass of Hyperspace disappeared, being replaced by the elongated white lines that slowly faded back into the tiny pin pricks of light emitted by the stars in the deep core, congested with the high gravity wells and hyperspace distortions that make travel within the deep core difficult. Were it not for the One Sith, it was probable that many of the hyperspace lanes in use would have fallen into disrepair following the Netherworld event.

The planet Tython loomed in the viewscreen, one of the planets Draco had visited many times during his tenure working alongside and with the One Sith, often visiting or working for its overseer Darth Carach. But that had been then, and Darth Vulkan had never visited the planet as he was now.

“Make sure we have the proper IFF codes and make for Darth Carach’s complex.” The big man sat on a command throne overlooking the very small bridge of the corvette now, watching them do their work.

Of all the librarians and knowledge hoarders in the Galaxy, Darth Carach was probably one of the most prolific, collecting knowledge, data, and information from all across the galaxy, and with an abundance of contacts and information brokers. If anyone could help Darth Vulkan locate the Holocron of Darth Bane it would be him.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The storms in the planet’s atmosphere made the trip to the surface a bit rockier than normal, but nothing of concern. The black corvette touched down where it normally did when Draco visited Tython, always just outside the complex to promote a short walk into the fortress. It always allowed the Mandalorian to collect his thoughts, guard them against intrusion, and prepare himself to converse with the Sith Lord.

Things were a bit different now. Draco was gone and the Sith left in his place had a much different thought pattern. Yes his thoughts were buried beneath layers of mental defenses, but he never hid his Force Aura anymore. In fact attempting to hide it was extremely difficult with the Sith Amulet around his neck as it exuded a presence of fear, easy to detect for a Force User, and causing the hairs on the back of a normal person’s neck to stand. That was the power Darth Vulkan knew best after all. Fear could be used for just about anything.

Once the man in armor descended the boarding ramp of the corvette he approached the first of many guards. He was flying using One Sith IFF, but an unscheduled visit wasn’t always greeted with open arms. As the guard approached Vulkan spoke, “Inform your master that Darth Vulkan wishes to meet with him.”

The subtlety and deceit was there, but it was unlikely Darth Carach wouldn’t know who he was by looking at him, and he might as well be the first to hear about the change. There were not many others who he could tell anyway.

[member="Gregori Starvald"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Darth Vulkan"]

The presence of Darth Carach was all-present. Years ago when the Sith had first set foot on Tython he had aided his brethren in immersing the force-strong planet in the Darkside, to turn it from the Light and with it the crux of the Galaxy and it had worked. But whilst his brothers and sisters had left once again, Carach had opted to stay on Tython. A citadel was erected over the chasm, where once a Je'daii stronghold was located.

He had always been rather fond of historical locations.

Such was to say that Carach was already aware of Draco's arrival. For it was Draco, even if he called himself Vulkan now. Carach was one of the most experienced and strongest mentalists that walked the Galaxy. Few could hide their minds completely for him, and Draco wasn't even trying to minimize his presence within the Force.

The Royal Guard stood staunch, unmoving, in the face of the newly arrived Sith Lord. Until his visor shifted slightly; in such a fashion that Draco would get the sense that the soldier was looking at him specifically.

"Lord Vulkan." the raspy, baritone voice was of another. It would be familiar to Draco. The Voice of the Dark Lord had deemed to speak directly through one of his subjects.

"You may enter."

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Vulcan nodded to the guard, recognizing the possession of the man. It wasn't as though he was unaware how to do so as well, just not something he bothered with normally. He entered the fortress at a leisurely pace as the guards made way for him, going to the room he was normally lead to when Draco had met with the Voice of the Dark Lord. No doubt there were a small number of guards that followed close behind or escorted him, but they sat beneath the Sith Lord's notice for the time being.

His thoughts might have been guarded, but Vulkan continued to wonder what the Sith Lord would ask for in return for the information he sought and how he might react to the information the Voice would be learning.

Upon finding the room the large Mandalorian Sith entered, greeting the Voice with a respectful nod of the head and slight bow. "Lord Carach. It has been sometime since we last spoke. Much has changed in those months." Perhaps right after Contruum and Balmorra the pair had spoken, but ever since Draco had secluded himself as Foreman of the Techno Union, Archon of the Obsidian Order, Sovereign of Bothawui, and what felt like a dozen other titles, all while acting as a single parent, he had aged mentally and physically more so than one would expect. "I came to you because I need information, and if my memory serves me well, you hold a plethora of information within these halls. I seek the Holocron of Darth Bane, but my excursion to Korriban did not yield fruit. I was hoping you could guide me in the proper direction." The Sith Lord need not lie about his quest or motives. His only motive was to kill a large number of people if the mood struck him and leave a legacy behind, and if the Holocron of Bane helped with that, he would find it.

[member="Gregori Starvald"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Darth Vulkan"]

"My dear Vereen." the Sith Lord responded calmly. He sat back in his throne, felt the texture press against his back and pondered. The ponder was aimed in two seperate directions. One of which asked how Draco's transformation came into being. The other questioned if this would make it easier to control the Mandalorian - or if it would make it harder. Mentally unstable individuals were always... bothersome to subjugate as their minds were usually shattered, consisting of seperate shards linked together in unstable ways.

"I see you have finally embraced the Darkside. It... suits you."

The armor-joke might have been a bit stale, but a Dark Lord need not have the best sense of humor.

"The Holocron of Bane is, in fact, in my possession." this shouldn't come completely as a surprise. Carach held the key to a lot of knowledge these days, most of the greater Holocrons in this Galaxy had passed through his hands. In truth he did not need the Bane Holocron anymore, the information within the holocron had already been disassembled and copied - courtesy of certain technological advancements which made it so easy to interact with the holocrons of new and old.

No need anymore to painstakingly recreate all the matrices and the sort.

The Sith Lord was silent after that last reveal though. Perhaps he was waiting to see what Draco could offer him in return.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Broken as his mind was, Vulkan was an intelligent, cunning being. Knowing that Carach had the Bane Holocron, wasn't actually very surprising. Part of Vulkan was exasperated that of course Carach had the Holocron in his possession, but it did make getting the small device much easier than hunting it across the galaxy. "It's Vulkan now." The sith lord corrected, his voice raspy through the helmet's annunciator as he responded to the fellow Sith Lord, who had taken his sweet time in responding.

"I have always dabbled in the Dark Side of the Force. Acceptance has been refreshing." His total lack of sympathy and empathy had freed him of things like caring about what people cared or thought. All he cared about was taking that holocron and using it to increase his own personal power. There wasn't much he wanted from the little box in Darth Carach's possession.

"And actually, having the holocron I seek in your possession helps me. Saves the fuel having to trek across the galaxy for it." Now of course there would be prices paid for such a thing, even as trivial an object as a holocron the Sith Lord no doubt had learned everything there was to learn from it. "I suppose allowing you to borrow one of mine could call us even for such a thing." The Sith Lord would take his pick of Vulkan's possessions, learn everything he could, and then turn it back to its owner, just as they had done with Naga Sadows Holocron.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Darth Vulkan"]

A smile came and went, but the shimmering visor of his mask would make that fact less relevant. Darth... Vulkan. It wasn't exactly an original name nor was it subtle, and yet there had been worse Darth titles by people he used to associate with - Kryptus came to mind, what a name for a self-respecting Sith Lord. But at the end of the day it mattered little to Carach what Vereen liked to call himself right now, as often is asked: "What is in a name?" and the truth was this.

Names were sketchy things, you picked them and some sticked, but it was always a thin veneer. Carach had a five-score identities under his belt by now, an actor living an actor's life in some ways.

"Ownership for a temporary trade?" the form shrugged. "What do you have in your possession that might interest me, Lord Vulkan?"