Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Private God of the Forge

Temple Forge, Zaathru

Careful,” Rhi warned. The path which she and Arc had been following suddenly dropped off a cliff ahead of them, leading down into a bubbling lake of fire. The molten heat of the volcano could be felt even at this distance, radiating up from below. It reeked of sulfur and other burning gasses.

In the midst of the lava was an elaborate structure—the Temple Forge. Constructed of an unknown material that gleamed like metal, it remained intact despite the extreme temperatures. In fact, the ancient construct was able to maintain an equilibrium which not only protected it from harm, but also shielded those who walked its halls. Getting there safely was another issue.

Luckily, all things are possible with the Force.

Do you think you can jump all the way down there, or do you want me to give you a ride?” Rhi asked, glancing over at Arc with a competitive smirk. “Want to race?

 
Peering over the edge, Arcturus scrunched up his nose slightly as a strange smell permeated up from the fiery quagmire below. He could see the magma bubbling and pooling across the surface, spitting toward the atmospheric-controlled heart which formed the forge.
What a sight.
"I don't know how you found this place" he mused aloud, his tone filled with awe, "But I am beyond impressed... And excited." The last two words were said with a very cheeky grin, toes curling in his boots at the thought of getting down there and checking it out.
"I'm not afraid of a little falling" came his reply when asked if they should jump or if he should hitch a ride. "See you on the other side."
Without warning Arcturus fueled the Force down to his feet and leapt down toward the central platform, utilizing that mystical energy to cushion his landing. Such a thrill, he felt as though his heart my leap out of his throat.
 
Rhi smiled. Arc reminded her of a little boy in a toy store, practically jumping up and down with excitement to see the Forge. "It's a well-known shrine," she explained. "The natives venerate it as sacred ground.”

Upon their arrival on Zaathru yesterday, those very same natives had thrown a celebration to welcome her back. The Shaal and the Zaathri whom she had emancipated from slavery festooned her with flowers and feathers, as befitted the one they believed to be the avatar of their Sky Goddess. They even seemed to vaguely recognize Arc and the twins, who had visited their world once before. When she introduced Arc to them as her consort, they immediately called for a sacrificial feast.

The children were spared that bloody and orgiastic affair, which occurred after nightfall. They put the twins to bed, leaving them to be watched over by the golem Arc had fashioned as their nanny and protector, then walked outside hand in hand. Their arrival was heralded by the beating of drums and the cheers of devoted disciples. Rhi had instructed the zealots to only select sacrifices from amongst their worst criminals; for Arc, they managed to procure a particularly vicious murderer who also happened to be Force Sensitive. Rhi figured he would have no qualms about devouring such a vile individual. She may have gotten a little carried away that night, caught up in bloodshed and honeymoon bliss, but at least the people seemed dazzled by the spectacle.

According to their mythology, the Goddess' consort was the god of the underworld. After that first night, the locals were already beginning to see Arc as the embodiment of the deity—but they still needed further proof before the name Arcturus could become synonymous with all that lay below the earth.

Only the god of the underworld could operate the Temple Forge,” she declared, a requirement with which they heartily agreed. So, on the second night, with Marcus and Eloise left in the care of the argus-eyed golem, they headed to the Forge.

Arc opted to jump down. Rhi leaped from the cliff a moment later, laughing, and used her wings to glide down to the platform below. She passed by massive statues of figures sitting and kneeling, their arms upraised, and a gleaming obsidian bridge leading across a river of lava.

At some point she felt a shift, as if she were passing through a membrane of some kind. Probably a bubble shield of some sort which served to protect the facility from the volcano which ensconced it. The air around her changed, the temperature suddenly dropping, and the stench of molten gases disappeared, replaced by an antiseptic scent which she found oddly refreshing.

Her feet touched down on a smooth metal floor that shone like songsteel. She turned to look at Arc, grinning, before glancing beyond him at the innards of the Forge. “Whoa.

It was massive. The anvil alone was the size of a small boat. Rhi walked tentatively forward, peering around corners to glimpse strange machinery which seemed both ancient and futuristic, modern and timeless. Lights along the walls and floor indicated that the systems were still functioning, and there was no trace of rust, dust, or decay to be found. But she could also tell that the Forge had not been used in a long, long time.

"Well," she said, turning around to face her husband and leaning back with her elbows upon the anvil. "It's all yours, babe. Provided you can get it up and running..."

Arcturus Dinn Arcturus Dinn
 
Last edited:
"Well known to you, perhaps," he chuckled, "Then again, these lands certainly suit you. I daresay this is certainly your domain, my love." Talks of the Forge being sacred, used only by the God of the Underworld, had wrought within him curiosity like no other. Of he could possibly get it running, then what? Rhi was already held aloft as a Goddess of this world, would he be regarded as such too?
Frankly he didn't much want to think on it. Instead as they each landed in the contained space at the heart of the magma his focus went entirely to the forge itself. He just wanted to get the impressive feat of engineering to work, forget the rest of it. He'd never been one for grandeur, he was a simple thing deep down.
Seeing Rhi leaning there against an anvil as large as she was quite the allure. He grinned at her, raising one brow as she alluded to the fact that he ought to try and get it working. He might have asked for some tips, if he wasn't thoroughly intrigued by the process. A riddle, or puzzle, just the sort of thing he enjoyed wrapping his head around.
Arcturus turned toward the archaic control panels and glanced over the various buttons and levers. There was no aurebesh in sight, just a native alphabet, so he was largely in the dark. Reaching out, he pressed one of the lit up buttons at random.
 
Well, you can always enjoy the fruits of my domain, my love,” Rhi shot back with a coy smile. Arcturus, as always, shrank from his potential as a leader or figure of importance. It didn’t matter that he was the son of the emperor or husband to a goddess; he had no desire to be either a prince or a god. That was fine by Rhi. Ideal, even. Important people had more to worry about. When it came to being a goddess, even she was mainly in it for the food and fun.

She followed him with her eyes as he approached an ancient control panel and pressed a random button. The display lit up, pale blue light arcing through the circuitry… and with it, Rhi sensed a pulse in the Force.

It was as if an invisible hand were reaching out, trying to connect to her mind and even to the still-developing brain of the child in her womb. Rhi was quick to block the latter attempt, and carefully guided the former away from her, expecting that Arc would accept the invitation.

Something had awoken at his touch. Not a consciousness per se, but perhaps a ghost in the machine. It sought a bond in order to communicate, not with words, but with commands. What would you have us make? it seemed to ask—us being the machine and Arcturus working in tandem.

 
"Oh, I plan to" he said in regards to fruits, a beaming grin set upon his lips as he regarded her there, "You do create such sweet fruits, after all... It would be a shame to stop at two." Of course, the twins would always be enough for him if it turned out that Rhiannon couldn't produce any more children given all she'd been through. But if more were on the table? Well...​
Whatever else he might have said was cast aside as the forge stuttered into life, and he felt a connection arc between its interface and his own mind. There was no hesitation, no consideration, Arcturus was quick to accept and establish that connection and upon doing so he was met with something akin to a query. He didn't hear the words, he more... felt the intent.​
Knife he pushed back, and with it the crude idea of what he had in mind was transferred also. Throwing knives, of course, Arcturus' specialty. Why he'd thought of that above all else wasn't initially clear to the man, but after a few moments of consideration he realized that such had become a baseline for him. It was what he'd used in the strange Temple he and Kal Kal had once visited, to test the destructive waters, it was the first thing he'd made under Darth Empyrean Darth Empyrean 's watch, and it was the first thing he reached for when chit hit the fan.​
Though Arcturus' eyes were open, they seemed almost... vacant. Glazed over, as he focused on the task at hand as opposed to the reality surrounding them.​
 
"Oh, I plan to" he said in regards to fruits, a beaming grin set upon his lips as he regarded her there, "You do create such sweet fruits, after all... It would be a shame to stop at two."

Rhi was taken aback by his comment, blinking and doing a double-take. Then she laughed. “There are more fruits than just that, you know. But speaking of which…

Before he activated the machinery, she left the anvil and approached Arcturus, taking his hand and pressing it to her abdomen. Her stomach was still flat, but if he searched the Force, he would find a new presence branching off of hers. “I meant to tell you earlier, but things have been crazy lately… and I wanted to be sure.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible to create new life in the land of the dead, let alone from her battered body, but the timing suggested this child had been conceived in the Netherworld. What effect that might have on it, she didn’t know. But she was happy to welcome a new addition to the family, and knew that Arc would be too.

Rhi stood back while he connected to the Forge, keeping watch. Arcturus had slipped into a trancelike state, clearly unaware of his surroundings. She didn’t expect any threats from this place, but she had learned it was better to be safe than sorry.

There is a price for making, the ghost in the machine intoned. Blood to quench the thirst of molten metal…

 
Arcturus stared for a moment in disbelief at what he was hearing, his expression a puzzle made up of a great many emotions. Shock, surprise, fear, awe, amazement, bittersweet sorrow, and more importantly relief. "Really?" His hand, guided to her abdomen, lay flat as he reached through the strands of the Force binding them and felt life incarnate coursing through her. A heart which beat for two pulsed down into her womb, and his eyes widened all the more.
He sank to his knees before her, icy blue eyes brimming with countless tears each seeking passage across his cheeks. "You have blessed me so, My Goddess," he whispered breathlessly, every syllable he uttered laced with sincerity and reverence, "You make me whole, and make my life worth living. Another son... Force, I never expected to have one child, much less three." Arcturus raised a hand to wipe his eyes, and sniffled slightly before a beaming smile returned to his lips.
"You are a miracle, Rhiannon" he declared, leaning forward to settle his lips against the still-flat abdomen which hid life within it.
Of course soon it was time to engage with the Forge, he could dote and fawn over her when they were in a less strange, safer place. Right now he hadn't decided how much he could trust this world, the people who inhabited it, or the ancient machineries it held within. Of course, that didn't stop him from linking up with the Forge, his curiosity would always get the better of him.
When another thought was pressed against his consciousness, Arcturus nodded in his tranced state. "Blood" he mumbled beneath his breath, enough to quench a blade. More than he alone could provide then. He took a small step back, and his eyes all at once focused. "I have need of a sacrifice" he said, as though it was the most simplest request in the Galaxy, "How do the people of this world decide who is worthy to become such?"
 
For once, Rhi didn’t object to Arc kneeling before her. She cupped his face in her hands as he cried with joy. Soon her vision was blurred with tears of her own, brought on by his words. “You can tell it’s a boy already?” she asked, smiling. Another son… “You can pick out the name this time. I’ll give you as many children as you want. Hell, let’s make a whole pantheon of gods and goddesses, all bearing your name...

She closed her eyes as she felt his lips against the bare flesh below her navel, burying her fingers in his red hair. She had been denied this moment with the twins, who had made their presence known while she was fleeing Korriban alone. But better late than never.

Back to the demands of the bloodthirsty Forge…

"How do the people of this world decide who is worthy to become such?"

Mine are criminals,” Rhi replied. “The ones whose crimes are the most heinous, taken from the prisons. But these ancient machines aren’t always so easily satisfied.” And perhaps the requirements would change depending on what he made with the Forge.

Blood from flesh untouched by sun or lash, the machine growled. Hands still soft and supple. The elite who sits at the top of the heap, or the child not yet tall enough to reach the plow.

 
"Our name" he corrected, "It is ours, it will always be ours..." Their name, their children, their Pantheon, their world... As much as he'd been reluctant to let himself sink into such a position, with Rhiannon before him now, babe in her tummy, he felt a swelling of great pride and a hopefulness for the future, the kind he'd never really known before. There was a future now, for him, for them, a dynasty lay before them. He settled a hand over the barely existent bump. "Starlin" he whispered, "Please..." He peered up at her, sapphire orbs meeting emerald, pleading but also willing to relent if she hated the idea. "I... I wish to honour my brother."
So far apart now, it seemed impossible that they would ever see eye to eye again, but Starlin was the first person to truly, truly offer him care, to see him as more than he thought he was stuck as being.
When the Forge made known its wants and desires he licked his lips and scowled. "No children" he firmly told it, aloud. "But you shall have those weak with undeserved power. Those craven sloths who lay upon feathery pillows and know not the hardships of daily toil." This he promised, and this he would see done. He turned back to Rhiannon, reaching up a calloused hand to settle upon her cheek, then leaned down to place his lips to her forehead.
"You are a Goddess, whether here on Zaathru or elsewhere," he proclaimed, "Goddess of the Sky, Goddess of my heart and soul; I will do as the Forge has bid, and I will stand at your side here, on this world. We shall make it ours, Rhiannon, and none shall hold us back. A universe of our own devising, a home for our children, and their children to come..."
Sinking down to his knees, he made so as to peer up at her, to keep her elevated above him as she so deserved. "I will bend this Forge to my will, and I will take charge over the Underworld." Fitting for one who could move between realspace and the Nether. Who knew, maybe he would actually carve a slither of the realm of Chaos for these people, see his will made real. Give them a true God to worship.
 
Starlin. He would name their child after a Jedi? But Rhi understood. Starlin was a good man, she knew that firsthand. And it was hardly a terrible name, although even if she had disliked it, at this moment she couldn’t refuse Arc anything. “Starlin it is,” she agreed.

The Forge wanted blood. She was already shaking her head even as Arc put his foot down with regards to sacrificing children. “I can think of a few corrupt officials among the Shaal,” she said. “We could take one of them. Or we could find a suitable candidate just about anywhere else in the galaxy…” Someone from among the more slimy Sith would do nicely, or perhaps a Mawite still clinging to power on one of the nearby planets.

Arc touched her cheek, and she locked eyes with him. His words washed over her, making her shiver with anticipation. She had hoped he would grow into the role eventually, but this was even better than she had dreamed. He sounded so enthusiastic about it. It was… more than a little alluring, if she were being honest.

He knelt down before her. She had leaned back against the anvil until she was sitting on the edge, with him between her legs. “God-King Arcturus, and Goddess-Queen Rhiannon,” she said, caressing his face. “Was this our destiny all along?” It certainly felt right.

Come here.” She took hold of his shirt to pull him toward her. Their lips met in a searing kiss. “I am so glad you’re here with me,” she breathed. “And the children—all of us together at last. It’s everything I ever dreamed of, and so much more…” Almost laughing with joy, she kissed him again, more tenderly this time. “I can’t wait to start. Let’s go find you a sacrifice…

 
She agreed. With his choice in name. With his refusal to make use of children. With his decision to make good on his place on this world. For them to take what so clearly was theirs to claim.
She agreed.
And his heart soared to hear it.
"What did I do to deserve you?" he whispered, "My drop of sunshine, an ever blooming flower, you are perfection incarnate, and I wish to spend every moment of my life bound to you, in this world and the next." Yes they'd already made their wedding vows but those had been rather... hasty. Forced upon them. Arcturus would keep thinking of new ones to add wherever he could, would continue to devote himself to her in totality.
He was still atoning for all of his sins after all, still repentant for all the times he'd let her down.
She made mention of their children, and a sudden flash entered his gaze. "All of our children" he agreed, "Even those not borne of our blood."
He savoured the taste of her kiss, delicately leaning into it and sweeping a hand up through her golden curls. Even now the scent reminded him of wild strawberries, though admittedly mixed with a little more sweat given the heat of this place. He found he did not mind it. Did not mind it at all.
Soon he found his feet once more, and before Rhi could stand he swept her off her feet bridal style.
"I have a task for you, my sweet," he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips against her ear. One kiss was settled behind it, then another to her cheek. "I would ask that you return to Eliad, bring Pharus here... Bring him home. I'm done playing someone else's games. He's not a ward, he's our son."
Settling her down as gently as he could, he brought his lips back to her forehead. "Take Beholder, and the twins, allow its stealth to keep you safe. I will find our sacrifice and have them ready and waiting for your return."
 
Rhi soon found herself swept off her feet, both literally and metaphorically as Arc whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Her giggling soon turned into sighs as he kissed her behind her ear.

She had completely forgotten their years apart, utterly taken with him. Some fear that he might leave her again remained, but it had been pushed to the back of her mind. Her thoughts were on the future now, and more hopeful than they had been in a long time.

But then he asked her to go to Eliad without him. Rhi couldn’t suppress a groan, though she was merely pouting with thwarted desire, not anguished at their separation or over the task ahead of her. “You’re a tease,” she whined as he set her down. “A merciless tease…” Her eyelids fluttered when he kissed her brow, instinctively leaning into him.

I’ll go get Pharus,” she said. “But after that, I’ll have to stay on Zaathru until the baby is born. Here I have a steady supply of sacrifices to feed on… I can’t afford to miss a meal when I’m eating for two.” It sounded almost funny when she said it, but her tone was totally serious. She considered it a miracle she had even managed to get pregnant, given her circumstances; she would not take any risks with her life or that of her child.

Now.” She was smiling again, wrapping her strong arms around his waist. “Would you like a ride out of here? My wings can carry all three of us, don’t worry.

 
"Oh, a tease am I?"
He looked over her for a moment, filled with as much want and desire as a man possibly could, then leaned in to snatch her lips with his even as she seemed to relent to the idea of having to part ways for now. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her to back to the anvil, and ensured that she was thoroughly satisfied.
When all was said and done, and it was time to go their separate ways in an effort to bring together all of the missing puzzle pieces, he found himself engulfed in her embrace and grinned. "Who am I to say no to such a divine Goddess?" he queried, "Especially one revered for her mighty wings..." Yes, he would hitch a ride so to speak, back out of the volcano and to the surface beyond.
From there? Well from there he summoned Beholder so that she didn't have far to travel, kissed her tenderly (and gave the children hugs and kisses of their own) then headed off on foot in the direction of civilization.
The Shaal sought the God of the Underworld made flesh? Then they would make the first sacrifice to see it done.
 
"Who am I to say no to such a divine Goddess? Especially one revered for her mighty wings..."

Yeah, it’s a good thing I have these wings, because after what you did to me earlier, I don’t know if I can still walk.” She was having a great honeymoon, that was for sure.

Holding on to him tightly, she spread her wings and lifted them into the air, leaving the Forge behind for now. They passed out of the protective bubble, through the molten heat of the volcano, and up into a night sky filled with stars.



Pharus did not want to leave.

“I’ve never even heard of Zaathru,” he said, glaring at Rhiannon over crossed arms. She had found him sulking in his family’s castle, Dragonwyck, alone save for the servants and guards. “And why do you want me to go there?”

Rhi hesitated. She knew Arc’s feelings toward the boy were paternal, but it was clear that Pharus did not see him as a father. He still viewed them all as brutal conquerors who had subjugated his homeworld and forced him to bend the knee. “For training,” she said at last. “He wants to teach you to use your power. You’ll receive the same education as our children.

“I don’t need training,” he said. “I’m a noble, not a Sith. It’s bad enough that Xyrah made me your ward. I won’t be your apprentice.”

Tempting as it was to force him to go, Rhi knew Arc wouldn’t approve, and it would only further antagonize the boy. So she used honey instead of vinegar. “Do you want to have the power to thwart us one day?” she asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous. One person can’t stop the entire Sith Empire.”

Okay, time to try a different approach. “Zaathru is a world where all who use the Force are seen as divine. You will not be our ward there. You will be a god.

He blinked and stared up at her. “You’re being serious,” he said softly, disbelief fading. “There is such a place?”

We won’t play the games of the Sith Empire,” she said. “They won’t rule over us. We decide our own destiny, and so will you. Come with us, and be free of all this.

Pharus was still skeptical, but he eventually relented. She led the boy into Beholder and brought him with her back to Zaathru, where he was welcomed by the natives as yet another deity. With his golden hair and green eyes, they thought him her son by blood. She didn’t bother to correct them.

By now the excitement among the people had reached a fever pitch. Anticipation over the use of the Forge had amped up as the news spread that Arcturus had chosen a special sacrifice. The gods had come to walk among them. Surely this was the beginning of a new golden age.

On her way to the Forge, Rhi flew above farmers’ fields, using the Force to cause the crops below to grow at a miraculous rate—a trick she had done before to earn their worship, but now she did it to herald the coming of a god.

 
It was a long trek to the pseudo-city of the Shaal, several days as much to accommodate the time that Rhi and the kids would be gone as to endure some great trial. Through the desert dunes he trudged, fueled solely by the Force, no water, no food, no rest, just onward and onward.
Those horned natives seemed to flock around him as he made his way to the tallest ziggurat on offer; Arcturus offered them no words, no real attention at all, remaining aloof as though above them. Soft words were uttered, rites spoken and touches graced to his arm. He didn't shirk them off but nor did he make any acknowledgement. He just walked, just climbed, until he reached the top, and therein he came before the leader of their flock.
He was reclined, lounging, fanned and fed by willing supplicants.
"Blood" Arcturus demanded, taking one of the nearby Shaal and tossing them to the floor at the leader's feet. When the guards stepped forward to seize the fallen Shaal, to see them made the relevant sacrifice, Arcturus lifted up his chin and growled. "No."
Then he pointed to the worker he'd flung down. "Give this one food, and wine, and soft clothes, and plush pillows. Fan him, raise him up. Listen to him." It wasn't a choice made in ignorance, the Shaal who lay before them was one who had brought innovation to their people under the thumb of another's rule. He'd been downtrodden yet still managed great things. Each day he'd worked, slaved away, beaten and bloodied and scorned.
Outstretched finger was turned to their current leader.
"Seize this one. Remove his circlet and see it melted down. Derobe him, scrub him down, then bring him to my feet. Bound."
There was a moment of hesitation from those around him, all had halted briefly to watch, to listen, but now that the cogs in their minds were turning again they seemed dubious. Like they were just as likely to turn their spears on him.
Manipulating the air around him, Arcturus lifted himself from the ground, arms outstretched, and outside a crack of thunder sounded though there had previously been no clouds. "I can take one lazy cretin, or I can take many, either way blood will seep and the Underworld will open. How many I drag down to make it so lies in your hands, Skruul!"
Several days later he arrived at the great Forge, accompanied by not just the naked, bound once-leader but also their religious head and several men, guards and commoners alike, who had come to see a new age dawn over the land. Now all that remained was for the return of his sprightly Goddess, and all would be set.
"Chain him there" he directed with a firm gesture, to an area in the front of the Forge which dipped down into an empty basin, loops in the ground specifically meant to hold chains. Arcturus took up a spot at the head of the congregation, stood before the Forge as he faced those who had made the pilgrimage through the desert. A feast was being prepared to one side, though he felt no real hunger in his gut.
 
Rhi arrived alone. Her long hair was crowned with flowers and leaves, and she wore loose robes which had a silvery or golden hue depending on how the light hit them. There was an air of the ceremonial to her appearance, as though each piece had been carefully selected for its symbolism.

It certainly seemed to have an effect on the Shaal and Zaathri present. A few bowed down prostrate as soon as her feet touched the floor of the Forge, lowering themselves in awe of her presence. Her divinity was already established, and as she approached Arc with a shy smile, it was clear that he had the Sky-Goddess’ favor. This assurance eased some, but not all, of the tensions that had been festering among the natives.

Pharus is waiting with the children,” she said. “He came willingly, though I did have to convince him.” She turned toward the basin where the prisoner was chained. Recognition crossed her features, and her smile turned into a smirk. “Oh, I remember this one. Arbiter Grima, it’s quite an honor to be chosen for a sacrifice. Especially one so important as this. You should be proud.

From her robes, she produced an intricate dagger made from meteorite ore. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as she presented it to Arcturus. “This is one of their most sacred relics. A dagger made from a fallen star.” She kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear, “Cut his throat with it, and become a god, my love.

 
His beloved rained down on abyssal wings, earning the devotion and reverence of those gathered - though none more so than Arcturus himself, who looked on with absolute love and awe. He settled one hand to her waist as she approached, light and fleeting but there all the same, elated by the news that Pharus was with them once more. "Whatever he wishes," he claimed, without knowing the price.
Then he took the sacrificial dagger, bowed his head humbly to his beloved, and turned back toward the congregation.
Perhaps he ought to have thought up some grand speech, made a proclamation, and verbalized his position as the God of the Underworld. He didn't, though. Arcturus was not one for waxing poetic. Not ordinarily.
Instead he raised the dagger for all to see, took one step down into the basin, and took the Arbiter by his right horn. The Shaal was facing the others too, his eyes fixed on the crowd, and when he realized that the end was really nigh he began to try and barter, and beg, and plead for his life, made all manner of promises and bargains, but it all fell on deaf ears. Arcturus did not regard him once, did not turn his gaze down to the sacrificial ram, he kept his eyes fixed at a point above where the crowd stood.
One deep and heavy breath. Two. Then he brought the dagger down and sliced in one swift, fell motion. He held the Shaal by the horn while he convulsed, the liquid life force seeping from his body and down into the basin. That wasn't enough, he decided, even as the Forge behind him began to rouse, its bellows pumping and internal fires churning with life.
He fueled the Force through his body and pulled up on the horn at the same moment as he brought the dagger back around, and in a much harsher motion he cleaved the horn from his head. The Arbiter fell, left to seep more blood into the archaic machine, while Arcturus lifted both dagger and horn aloft.
Then, still without a word, he turned to address the Forge instead. He took several steps forward, blackened blood clinging to his bare feet, and leaving a trail from basin to forge, before he tossed the horn into the fire. "Hilt" he commanded, adding a new part to the throwing knives he'd commissioned. What better to wield than blades hewn with handles forged from the bones of his first sacrifice?
 
The natives remained dead silent as Grima’s throat was cut. Rhi’s gaze drifted down to the floor, watching in fascination as dark blood moved through the systems like veins.

The machine pulsed with its own rhythm, brought back to life by the vitae. “The Heart Chamber beats again!” someone whispered—just before Arc cut off the horn. The keratin broke with a resounding crack!, provoking gasps from the captivated audience.

Desdinova!” another Shaal cried, falling to her knees. The others followed suit, chanting the name of the God of the Underworld in the Shaalin tongue.

Wiping tears of joy from her eyes, Rhi approached the forge itself, watching as the ancient machine began to construct what Arc bid it. Pale filaments reached out, engulfing the horn and carving it into a hilt. The anvil beat like a drum, pounding out a blade made from a metal alloy she had never seen before…

 
Praise and sacred phrases flowed from the natives who stood before them to witness the event, but still Arcturus did not address them. He had his back to the crowd, eyes fixed upon the Forge as it worked to create a series of three throwing knives each to his exact specifications. Alien metal was used for the blade itself, Shaal horn for the small hilts; he was surprised by how quick and efficiently the process ran.
Then it was done. Arcturus wiped clean the sacrificial dagger, one side on his left cheek, the other on his right, the blackened blood clinging to his pale skin. He offered it to Rhiannon who remained by his side, took two steps toward the Forge, and lifted from it the fully quenched blades.
Only then did he turn to them all. Only then did he lift up his chin, eyes downcast, and see fit to speak.
"I am Desdinova" he proclaimed, "God of the Underworld, and the Forge, of Earth and Time. Death is my domain; let this not be forgotten."
He was a good and just God, for as promised he took the life of the Arbiter only in that moment, one sacrifice for the good of all, as opposed to the lives of all who had briefly doubted him. It could have been so many more... And Arcturus found himself oddly unfazed by that thought.
One hand reached back to lightly grasp Rhiannon's hand, pulling her fully to his side.
"We are Light and Dark, Sun and Moon, Life and Death; We herald a new age!"
Chanting, supplication, the Shaal sank to their knees before the pair of divines and Arcturus felt for a moment as though his power within the Force was actually beginning to heighten in response to their reverence.
Raising the hand which also held Rhiannons, he addressed them for one last time: "Now Feast!"
For his own part, Arcturus turned his gaze down toward the fallen Shaal. He was Sensitive to the Force though he'd never seen fit to exercise that muscle, and he would serve well as Desdinova's first meal in this brave new world.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom