Glass Ceilings

[Darth Prazutis]

​

Unknown Regions, Deep Space, War Fleet Leviathan
Aboard the Goliath II...

Dark.

All through the halls of the Super Star Dreadnought it churned like a turbulent high tide, a swirling maelstrom of empyrean blackness inside of which all light died. Inside the cavernous halls of the vast starship shadows were just a little deeper, larger, they cast greater influence over the physical world. A horrific atrocity occurred in the great ships infancy, the screaming sacrifice of countless trapped souls, prisoners packed tight inside the hallways. Every so often for most folks spending too much time aboard the Goliath II could be treacherous, whispers and voices from the unknown were nothing new to the devout, grim faced crew. For a wielder of the force and a practicioner of the dark side the halls were a wellspring, a near endless nexus that empowered them.

The perfect flagship of the Lord of Lies.

Deep inside the flagship a colossal throne room stood shrouded in darkness a bridge over the cavernous pit below. The chamber was dominated by an unbelievably massive Black Iron Throne atop a raised dais glowing with crimson energies. A great giant occupied the seat it was impossible to see his true height in such a position, but even sitting down and filling out such a large chair, said that he was enormous. All along the base perimeter of the throne spaced equidistant from one another stood four of the Nerean Crownguard clenching weapons, while other Crownguard walked the far perimeter of the room. In the sullen silence the dark emitting from this robed terror was active, the area surrounding him shuttered and heaved like a wet lung. The very air was heavy, practically smothering with his presence alone and the silence was deafening. It was broken by the sudden glow as the holographic projector activated. A great eye manifesting through the air at eye level.

AQUILA.

"Your Supreme Excellency. As you have requested I have given him clearance to land in your private hanger, his presence here has been wiped from all known records. Only you will have the full record of his visit." AQUILA said its voice a deep baritone, a mechanical yet demonic growl that seemed to assault the eardrums of most mortal men.

"Bring him to me without delay." The Lord of Lies ordered, the eye almost immediately vanishing from sight. The prized visitor aboard the Goliath II was no stranger to its halls, it was a man who spent years in the shadows aboard it as the vessel shepherded them from place to place. A journey across the stars. It was none other than Khonsu Amon, newly anointed Supreme Sun Guardian of the Golden Company. It was many years ago when he was of the rank and file that the relationship between Khonsu Amon and Darth Prazutis was forged. A young man with great, immeasurable potential and a very bright future is what the Sith Lord saw in him. A young man given the chance to achieve power everlasting, to achieve successes greater than anything he ever had known. A man given a test to see how far he would go, what he would be pilling to pay for power for power above all had a price.

Everything.

In time the Great Deceiver cast his influence over the Golden Company and they fell to decadence, gluttony, lust, greed, and incompetence. They were so easily influenced and pushed towards acts of self deprecation that it was almost childs play. Over the years he subjected his apprentice to brutal tasks, immeasurably cruel tests, all of which were part of a highly intense training regimen that indoctrinated Khonsu Amon to the dark side of the force. Every task had a purpose, every test designed to push him not just to his limits but beyond. He forced Khonsu to break out of his shell, to think differently, to act differently. Above all he gave his apprentice the art of deception, the art of knowing and reading his fellow man and being able to lie to them: "Always keep your foes confused. If they don't know who you are or what you want, they can't know what you plan to do next". There were many such lessons he bestowed upon him, a strong powerful foundation that turned him into a formidable warrior of the dark side. Honor was a concept dashed to the rocks as well, for honorable men were nothing but dead fools and it was a concept he drilled into his apprentice from the very beginning. One of many lessons on wielding cunning, measuring your cruelty and tempering your emotion. Emotion was a tool to fuel the dark side, an exploit to be saved for the right time. If used at the wrong time?

It could leave one exposed to making terrible, tragic, or even fatal mistakes.

All throughout his intense training Khonsu absorbed every bit of it using it to shape his fighting style, wield power to fuel himself in battle, every lesson learned brought new combat techniques, new saber styles, new powers that made him strong. In time the young apprentice became a mirror of his master, an immeasurably cruel destroyer at heart masked with the façade that everyone knew as Khonsu Amon. A young man who paid every price to climb through to the next stage. Every step made his master proud as he clawed and fought for what was his. It was through the Lord of Lies that he armed his apprentice with knowledge that allowed him to unleash hell upon his rivals in the Golden Company. So many fell to his apprentice's brutal hand, executed for their incompetence, purged for their stupidity. The Supreme Sun Guardian the worst of them all. The depraved man was strapped to a sun disk and burned alive by a force he simply couldn't stop. In time the pair had grown close, very close a bond between master and apprentice that ran deep.

In recent times an extended period of silence came between the two, as Khonsu climbed to the position of Supreme Sun Guardian he found his attention drawn, as did the Shadow Hand. In the aftermath of Rhen Var however they would come together face to face once again. Already he could feel his apprentices approach through the cavernous halls, his stop by the throne room doors, his visage appearing when the doors parted and he watched the man enter, approach, and kneel before his master.

"Rise my apprentice." The Shadow Hand said in a deep baritone, otherworldly tone. "I have watched your recent successes and I am quite pleased. You stand triumphant...Supreme Sun Guardian."

[member="Khonsu Amon"]

 

[LT-137]

​

For nearly a century, the Sun Guard of the Golden Company endured one travesty after another. They were banished from their homeworld after they were betrayed and inevitably defeated by those they once trusted. Their foul luck took a turn for the worse after that, as the band of warriors began to dilute their heritage and culture to survive against the coming darkness. From one unfortunate circumstance to the next - these flaxen-clad warriors soon found their footing amongst the stars. They adopted the ancient tenets of the Sellsword and sold their talents to any and all that were willing - and who had ample coin to secure their martial services. Through this drastic, but ultimately historic change back to their Mercenary roots, the Sun Guards saved themselves from the abyssal rift of oblivion. However, it was not true salvation, but rather a means of survival.

They continued to defy the odds as the decades passed, slowly clawing their way back into prominence as they sought to restore their long-lost legacy. They refused to go silently into the night as their Echani betrayers had hoped. From there, each treacherous step brought the organization closer and closer towards an uncertain future. Would they be consumed by the ghosts of their ancestors, or rise above what they once were? That answer came in the form of a man, one who dared to tip the scales of fate in favour of his disparate people. His name was Khonsu Amon. A child that once was nothing more than a slave to the whims of his people’s betrayer... and now, a renowned warrior whose legacy ripples across the very stars. He defied the ever-shifting tides of fate, and charted a course through the uncertainty that tomorrow held - eventually leading his banished people home as would-be reclaimers.

After a century of darkness and despair, the light of the Sun Guard returned home.​

However, a deal with the devil was struck. Khonsu was a capable fighter on his own, and had the ambition to rise through the ranks - but it wasn’t enough. The man needed more than an incandescent soul and a desire to lead his people back into the promised lands of his near-forgotten homeworld. He needed a guide to chart the ever-shifting tides of fate and reshape his people’s history. It was to that end that the would-be Warlord sold a portion of his soul to the self-styled Great Deceiver. The man wanted power - and sought to garner its dark embrace through whatever means were necessary at the time. However, the Mercenary knew what would come of such a deal should he prove worthless to his newfound cicerone, and eventual teacher.


The Sun Guard and Sith were once bound by the tides of fate before the coming of the plague that benighted the Galaxy. Through the manipulations of a being called Darth Plagueis, the Thyrsian Host was corrupted into a militant group of Sith Cultists—a group that inevitably became subservient to their new overlord as he sought to fulfill some religious prophecy. When the cycle of Sith Succession inevitably came to pass, however, Plagueis’ successor—Darth Sidious—sundered the bonds that bound the Sun Guard to his Order’s service.

He sent an assassin, who slaughtered all that resisted.

With the Sun Guard broken by the Acolyte known as Ventress, those that survived her massacre were faced with a choice: They would either renew their oath to Darth Sidious in the hopes of seeing the prophecy come true or return home to rebuild what remained of their fearsome legacy.



As Khonsu was forged anew by those that returned home to Thyrsus, the man was schooled in their traditions. He learned of the price that came of serving the Sith, and that such a fate could never again come to pass. It was with such thoughts, and memories of days gone by, that Khonsu cautiously made the bargain. He would only sell a portion of his soul for a glimpse into the world of the Sith and utilize what he learned to, eventually, deceive the deceiver.

The man believed it would be poetic justice; that one of the Sun Guard would be considered and treated as an apprentice, learning the secrets of the Sith...only to betray them in turn, as they once betrayed his ancestors. However, as more knowledge was pried from the heart of the Sith Order, the more that his brothers and sisters within the Golden Company suffered. They fell into disgrace, their blood staining Khonsu’s hands crimson so that he might rise through the ranks.

And, eventually, lay claim to the title of Supreme Sun Guardian.


At first, the Thyrsian Warlord paid little heed to the blood price; it was negligible in the grand scheme of things. Over time, however, the losses began to mount. The leadership caste of the Sun Guard were being targeted and removed through nefarious means—all the while Khonsu submitted himself to blissful ignorance. It couldn’t be allowed to continue without forever crippling the collection of gilded warbands. Capable men, women, and Xenos-breeds alike fell to the myriad paths of corruption that lay before them, inevitably succumbing to their vices or dying in the process. It was then that Khonsu began to fight back from the shadows; he played the part of the dutiful student, and he played it well. The man endured whatever hardships were thrown his way, and arose victorious at every turn; all the while, he formed his own plans in secret, to combat the sickness festering within his people's heart.

With every victory, Khonsu gleaned more and more knowledge of the tendrils that wormed their way into the core of his gilded confraternity. He had to be careful, but with such information in hand, the man worked through proxies to begin gouging out the corrupting influence from the Sun Guard. In time, these deeds left his band of mercenaries free from the grips of darkness. Khonsu even pilfered the secrets of Sith Magic and Alchemy from some now-destroyed Holocron; secrets which were then used to coat his flesh in the living tissue of an ancient sith war-beast, blessing him with power that would turn the Sith arts into a curse that would bring about their doom.

With the corrupting ties that secretly bound them to the Sith artfully severed, Khonsu led his people back into the light to forge their legacy anew. He took the title that was rightfully his, launching a massive crusade to oust the silver-haired Echani from his homeworld, liberating Thyrsus in a battle that would pass down through the ages. With his homeworld freed from foreign influence, the Warlord continued to serve those who sought out his services and those of the Sun Guard. They couldn’t deny their renewed nature, despite having only just reclaimed their homeworld and scattered the remnant of the Echani Compact across the bespeckled heavens. Thyrsus was a world on the path to recovery after a century of exploitation and enslavement—it needed a constant influx of credits to sustain its new life, and eventually, to undo the damage that was wrought upon it.

Thus, Khonsu served beneath a multitude of banners, reaping his just rewards and committing atrocities across a dozen worlds. If the path to Thyrsus’ salvation lay through the myriad roads of purgatory, then it would be a path he’d gladly tread.

It was in the aftermath of his service to the Sith Empire, as they despoiled the moon of Pantora, that the Reclaimer was summoned by his would-be master. The reasons were...nebulous, at best. Perhaps the man felt sentimental and wished to gaze upon his supposed apprentice? Or, possibly, his secret treacheries had been uncovered ,and he was to stand in judgement for his betrayal? In the end, it mattered not. Khonsu wouldn’t drop everything at a moment’s notice and rush to the undisclosed location; no, instead the man would take his time. He would ensure that, should the worst outcome come to pass, the Golden Company would thrive in his absence and remain free of the Sith’s corruption. After nearly a day of preparations, Khonsu embarked on his clandestine journey, leaving naught a clue to his destination behind.

Sometime later, bedecked in his aureate regalia and adorned in a flowing ultramarine cloak, Khonsu Amon arrived aboard the Goliath II. In many ways, the Thyrsian Warlord was a radiant beam of light within the heart of proverbial darkness. He was immune to the maddened whispers that drove others insane, hearing nothing but the near-silent whirs of his powered armour mechanisms as he strode throughout the dreadnaught's cavernous halls. What became more pronounced, however, was the wellspring of darkness that permeated throughout the entirety of the sprawling warship. It called to him, instinctively seeking to draw out the beast that the man had woven into his very core. He denied this clarion call; he refused to submit to the darkness that sought to despoil and corrupt the Galaxy. Let the Sith bathe themselves in darkness. Let them believe that their charted path was right. Neither he—nor his people—would have any of it.

They would embrace the duality of their twinned suns - the entwined paths of destruction and creation.

With lionized pride, Khonsu strode into the chamber that housed his erstwhile teacher, who was, in turn, seated upon a basalt throne, flanked by a quartet of the crimson-clad Crownguard. He didn’t kneel as an apprentice should; he was no longer the dutiful student that once stalked these halls. The man was a warrior, reforged into a battle-king, and would never again prostrate himself before another who believed themselves better.



From behind his gilded faceplate, shrouded in the false-firelight of his visor, the reborn King sneered as the enthroned Sith Lord spoke—a false puppet master, pleased of his successes throughout the past few years.

If only he knew the truth.​

“Successes that occurred thanks in part to your teachings, my Lord...but mostly through my people’s desire to reclaim what was once rightfully theirs.” It took everything he had to withhold the venom brewing within his guarded heart. His voice, low and measured, no longer possessed the wavering tones of a timid slave...but instead the thunderous timbre of a conqueror.

“Now, to the heart of this...Why have you summoned me?”​

| [member="Darth Prazutis"] | ​