How to Master The Basics?

[GhostOfProtocol]

He'd invited her to his home, the palace of Atrisia. Her, was of course, the alchemist [member="Darth Ophidia"]. He wanted, he needed to master the basics of Sith Alchemy. He'd heard stories of the power it could grant, he needed to grasp that power. Sitting up lightly, he flicked the hood of his robes up, sliding his mask across his face. Only those who deserved to witness what the Jedi could do would see his eye, what used to be his eye. He stood, feet connecting with the stone of the floor.

Slowly, he used the force to push open the door. His body, his legs stepped out into the hallway, walking the familiar path to the training room. He'd been training his own apprentice only days before, the man was actually no-where to be seen. It was for the best, alchemy would be beyond him. He was weak, progressing well but he was still weak. Colt was weak, but he knew how to get stronger, that was the difference between him and his apprentice.

He felt the familiar door open, smiling.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[member="Darth Novus"], something about the persona rung a bell in Darth Ophidia's subconscious, but she could not entirely recall where from. There were so many faces for her to remember, so many names, she was bound to forget one or two. Perhaps she had known him under another name? That was entirely possible. In the life of Sith, names could quickly change as one ascended through the ranks. She could still remember the name she had carried when she took the mantle of acolyte. Of course, this Novus was no acolyte. A knight, wishing to learn the secrets of alchemy.

Ophidia was no great alchemist like Sage Bane, Carach, or even her old master Ferus. But she was more than capable of teaching the basics. Behind her floated desk, covered in a black sheet to obscure the visage of the objects beneath. She wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, or taint the equipment.

Walking through the halls of the Atrisian Palace, she could nearly see the ghosts peeking out from the shadows. Her stride was casual, but determined, and her boots made oddly little sound against the smooth, hard floor. She almost regretted not visiting the palace while her apprentice was Emperor. Rather, she had always dragged Mythos out of his rich palaces and into the deserts, the barren wastes, her domain.

She stopped, her gloved fingers snapping as she suddenly knew who she was about to train: Snow, Jardo Snow, apprentice to Mythos and knighted in his absence. It all seemed obvious when she thought about it. Truly, the name had thrown her off. Darth Novus, new, how curious.

Another left, down the hall and on the right, there she would find her student for the evening. Darth Ophidia sauntered on, a smile pulling faintly on the left corner of her mouth.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Spoiler

Hey there, quick note. No-one but Mythos knows Jardo's name, not even he knows it. Mythos wiped his memory and renamed him Colt

He would drop to one knee in front of a Lord, the respect shown. Colt respected the Lords, the power they held. He respected this Lord more because she was, if he recalled correctly, teacher and friend of Mythos. His former masters name rung through his head, the palace was full of him, even though he was gone. His mask gave off it's little noise, loud and filling in the halls. He'd gotten used to it, he felt sorry for those who met him. There was no off switch unless he removed the mask, and he would never remove the mask. No-one got to saw his eye, not unless they needed persuading what the Jedi could achieve.

He stood back up, his robes flailing around his feet. The mask showed no emotion, the mask twisting his voice to show no emotion. The small alter in the corner showed no emotion, the lightsaber marks after his "training" session with his apprentice showed no emotion. The training hall was emotionless, every single thing was bland. Only the black cover on the table and the black robes on Colt himself being the only breaks in color.

He eyed the small servant that had lead Miss Ophidia to the training hall, the servant taking it in his stride and leaving. He wasn't a slave, he worked for free but he wasn't a slave. He was happy to work, if you are happy you have no reason to be classed as a slave. A slave means that you work without wanting to, a slave suggests that you are chained and shackled and held basically ransom. No, this man wasn't a slave.

"My Lord"

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Spoiler

Duly noted. She did meet him as Jardo when she was a knight, but I don't think she would remember. I'll change the name recalled to Colt, then.

What a strange sound it was that echoed through these halls, centred around the form of Darth Novus. It annoyed her, distracted her. She would not be able to work properly in this noise. How could anyone live in this racket? Ophidia's left hand floated up to her left ear and tapped the cartilage near her earlobe. A fish had once taught her how to cancel out the sounds around her, an ability she had not left to rot. Now, she focused on the frequency and with each tap, tuned the sound away from her ears. She whispered under her breath to make sure she could still communicate, and blocked out the frequency itself, at least enough of it to seize the effect it would have on distracting her.

Ophidia looked down on the form of her student with her burning irises, giving only a small nod in return for his knee. She wore no helmet, no disguise, but had until now kept her hood pulled up. Her hands brushed the fabric back to reveal the hairless crown of her ashen head, and the branching scars that grasped at the back of her skull from the collar of her robes. Her lips were painted purple and her skin marked with lines of paint.

"Darth Novus, are you prepared to delve into the arts of Alchemy?"

Her eyes trailed over the room, taking in the dull location. She could appreciate simplicity, but it seemed to her like this room was designed to be as boring as possible. Still, she gathered that it was a multi-purpose location. The streaks from lightsabres, the small altar, the table with covered objects, they all told her what she needed to know. The table that floated behind her passed into the room as she did, then assumed a position parallel to the table already present.

"It is an art that requires much time and deliberation. However, the treasure is worth the toil. We will begin by designing a simple Sith Amulet. I hope you have made yourself some thoughts about what you wish for it to do."

[member="Darth Novus"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He faced the Sith Lord lightly, nodding to her first question. He was ready, he had to be ready to master the skills of alchemy, he wanted it to become one of his main skills as a Sith. He thought for a moment, thinking hard. He was an all rounder, master of many types of the force. He needed something to focus his skills on however, alchemy would serve as the perfect option. Like a hobby, a hobby to make him powerful. A hobby to make him strong, a hobby.

He allowed his eye to drift around the room, hidden by the mask. He liked the room, the memories of a happier time with his master, the memory of his apprentice. It was a room where much had been accomplished, much had been achieved. The lightsaber marks meant something, every small stone of a broken alter meant something. Every single scratch and scrape meant something. The room had purpose, the room had memories.

"I want to hide myself in the force, conceal and hide. No-one should know where a true Sith lies in wait"

He felt the hidden blade at his wrist, a forgotten memory. He wasn't sure how he'd obtained said blade, that happened before his "fall". He'd always been suspicious of the fall, he'd never had solid proof otherwise. Mythos didn't seem like the man who'd lie to him, but his master had craved power while he'd been around. He'd passed the trait along to Colt, and Colt wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse. A curse to carry for the rest of his life.

"I refuse to end up like my master. He was weak enough to be killed, foolish enough to be killed. I will not be, I will prove how powerful I am and I will start by learning to hide"

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Foolish, or betrayed. Looking into the matter of her student's death, she knew his companion had left him to face the Grand Master of the Silver Jedi alone. Still, it was undeniable that Mythos had failed and been killed. Should he still be alive, then she would kill him for his failure. However, this was not the time nor the place to discuss the matter of her former student.

"Those who possess true power do not need to proclaim or prove it. They simply embody the power they hold."

Subtilety, it was a lesson she had tried to impart in all her students, with varying degrees of success. Her eyes flitted down to Novus' wrist, she knew a hidden blade when she saw one. She was one of Darth Ferus' apprentices after all; she was the Aspect of Death. Ophidia would be researching this Sith Knight's connection to the assassins in time. It became evident to her that she had allowed a cloud to grow in the corner of her eye. A cloud she would have to disperse.

"First, you will need to construct your amulet. I will gift to you as I myself was gifted upon my first project in the Temple of Pain, on Fresia."

She traced her left hand over her right arm before presenting a gem perched between her fingers. Its fiery, golden colour broke the drabness of the room. It was a Corusca Gem, costly and rare. The stone still needed to be cut and polished, which gave Novus the opportunity to work the stone into whatever shape he wished. It could probably be worked into a number of objects, if he was sparse with the material.

"You will polish it, and you will create the object in which it will be set. Ring, pendant, bracelet. You choose."

[member="Darth Novus"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Spoiler

Research would allow you to find out that before he was mind wiped by Mythos, he was a former assassin before he went rouge. Now he doesn't even know what the assassins are

He bowed lightly, taking the stone in his grasp. He'd heard stories about how rare the stones were, how near indestructible they were. He'd heard stories about people powering lightsabers with them. They were precious, and once he cleaned it up he would have a great item to call his. He thought for a moment about what to set the gem into, before it hit him. He eyed the gem one last time before finally deciding to cut and polish it into a small cross to sit on a small pendant he could hang and hold around his neck. He wasn't going for fashionable, he was going for the power.

He already had a small tool box in the corner of the room he could use to work with, something he'd been planning to teach the non force users within The One Sith order. He took hold of the box lightly, sitting at a small table that wasn't being used. He began to set to work, but he needed to question the Sith Lord while he had her. She'd taught Lord Mythos, she would know more than him about his demise. She'd be angry, he'd failed her, but perhaps it was a start.

While working, he slowly began to ask the question. He words cut like daggers, the mask and his natural tones mixing into one.

"My Lord, I want to know more about what happened on Lujo. I know that Mythos was betrayed, I want to know who by. My master failed and he met his end, but this Sith who betrayed him shouldn't feel free to walk around like nothing has happened. He failed to honor the Sith, he run away when he got scared."

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

As Novus took the gem and begun his work. She pulled aside the dark cover on the hovering table, uncovering a cauldron and a tome bound in worn leather. With deft hands, she set the cauldron to begin heating. Inside it was a thick, reddish substance, remaining still for the time being. She picked up the book and found herself a seat, ready to find the necessary information to create Novus' desired effect. However, just as the tome parted in her lap, so did the student's words touch her ear. Ophidia sat still for a moment, looking at the ancient sith texts in her lap.

"I was not there to witness his battle. I fought to protect our temple and its treasures. [member="Mythos"] had gone with Darth Kentarch to face Thurion Heavenshield and his wife. He wished to claim fame and glory, as he was wont to do."

Her grey fingers traced the soft texture of the wallalan vellum as she turned the pages of the ancient book with care. Her voice, cold and rasped, revealed no emotion, but was factual in every step.

"From what I have heard. Kentarch fled the battle to save his hide, Mythos held his own and was close to victory when he was stripped of the Force in a wall of blinding light. The injuries he sustained were beyond most, even with the aid of the Force. If the Heavenshields did not finish the job, then Lujo did."

Her eyes turned to Novus, burning, but seemingly unaffected by the tale. It was as though she spoke of someone who had long since passed into the annals of history. Not a person, but a name, an object. She had not seen his corpse, but she could also not feel his presence any more. She trusted he had died as he had been taught, if not, then she would make sure he did.

"He died by the decree I imparted in him under my tutelage; the decree by which he lived, conquered, and taught: Success or death. To live a failure is not an option."

Her eyes turned back to the tome once again, another page turning. A smile pulled on the corner of her mouth.

"Death comes for us all in the end."

[member="Darth Novus"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Colt nodded, making a mental note of the name. The Sith Lord would pay for wanting to protect himself and leaving his friend to deal with two Jedi masters alone. It was brash, it was foolish. A real Sith would of sat there and accepted what was coming to him, it would of been a better way to go out. To be a Sith meant to live with your friends and treat them like family. He sighed, picking the crystal up lightly.

He'd heard of the teachings of the Sith Lady, the same teachings Mythos pushed onto him. He owed the Sith Lady everything, it was her teachings more than those of Mythos that shaped him into what he was. He looked at the small cross lightly, strolling over to the Sith Lady and her tools. He knew it was alchemy, but he wasn't expecting witches of dathomir style. He was almost waiting for the Sith Lady to pull out a broom stick.

"Mythos was always greedy, it was a flaw of the man. [member="Darth Kentarch"] is a different story however. If what you have told me is true he is a coward and a disappointment."

He eyed the cross in his hands, shrugging. He sat back down, starting to shape durasteel into a small circle. He would attach it perfectly later on. He wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted his first tool to be perfect. He smiled under his mask, the name of Darth Kentarch still floating in his mind.

"I won't allow him to leave. I will use the teachings you passed on to Lord Mythos and thus he passed on to me. Someone must confront the coward, and if I find any signs of life, I will report to you and you can have the honors of showing Mythos what the Sith can do"

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"I suggest silver, not steel. It's easier to work with and requires less maintenance. You will find some on my table. Heat it, shape it, solder the seams and polish. It will give you a tight fit and a better look. Steel stands out against the precious nature of the stone, silver accentuates it, heightens it. Think like a jeweller when making jewellery."

Instructions came before conversation. She placed a piece of flimsiplast on the book and copied a symbol, the turned to a bookmarked page and copied one more. In quick, sharp handwriting, she noted the names of the sigils she had copied down, for future reference. Then, she turned to another bookmark. It had nearly been swallowed up by the page from being used so much, a key ingredient in the creation of alchemical artefacts.

"As for Kentarch, it seems he left in the wake of the coup on the Dark Lord. I do not find him worth pursuit. However, if his back is presented to me. Then I will not spare him from the talons of fate."

Vengeance was not one of Ophidia's passions. If Mythos lived, then even she would have work cut out for her in tracking him. He was as subtle as an uxibeast in combat, but she had trained him well in stealth. Had she put her mind to it, had she any reason to, then she would probably have found him. However, she was the Aspect of Death. She had too many names on her list, too few assassins of note, and no time to chase the dead.

The liquid in the cauldron begun to bubble and seethe, spitting and hissing aggressively. A pungent smell rose in vapours from the pot. She had already copied the recipe for the concoction in a handbook, placed on the table. To most, the contents of the soup would be rather disturbing. She remembered vividly the creation of the great alchemical lake on Fresia, the way people had literally melted under the sith spells.

[member="Darth Novus"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He nodded, why didn't he think of silver? Silver was less reactive than steel, it would resist the elements better and be an overall pendant. He kept the circle of durasteel, tossing it into the box. It would be useful at some point in the future. He shrugged, taking some silver lightly. He wasn't making a large pendant, something small. He set to work quickly, melting the steel down and shaping it using a small template while it was still warm. It was odd what you could find in a tool box really.

Once happy, after a few minutes, that the metal was cool enough to work with, be began to solder the seams happily, hands happy when working with stuff like this. It took him a few moments but he finally managed to get everything soldered in place, including the gem. Once happy, he took a small rag and began to polish his possession, hard, everything he had going into making it shine. It would shine, it belonged to a Sith. Once happy with what he achieved, he turned and eyed the concoction in the cauldron. It didn't look great, but he trusted the Sith Lady happily.

"Darth Kentarch is thus a traitor also. I shall enjoy every minute"

He smiled under his mask, the mask hiding the emotion. He was enjoying playing the images in his mind of how he wanted to kill, how he wanted to murder and maim the man who'd caused the death of Mythos. He didn't side with his master, his master had decided to take on two Jedi masters and claim the glory, that wasn't clever. He died because he couldn't keep up. He would of had a chance if Kentarch had of stayed around.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

They both would of had a chance.

"What is the next step, m'lady"

 

[Darth Ophidia]

The book shut with a heavy thud and dangled from her black left hand as she rose back to her feet. Striding over to the table, she laid the book down carefully and glanced at the concoction. It would soon be ready. She did not ask permission, but inspected the pendant closely. If there were weaknesses apparent to her, then it could compromise the entirety of its construction. The gem could crack, the silver could warp, the spells could fail and claim the life of the caster. However, it appeared to be in order. Not entirely off mark, for a beginner.

"This is fine. Now, you will inscribe the runes of power. Finding the right rune could take weeks, if not months. One mistake can, not only waste your project, but claim your life."

Making room on the desk, she opened the books and placed down the flimisplasts with the copied sigils. She had researched them before. Fortunate, some would say, that just she was the instructor of the day. She pointed at the first mark, under which she had scribed its name in pointed letters, looking more like they were cut with a knife than traced with a pen. 'Wizra iw Dishi'.

"The Sigil of Shrouding. It should shroud your presence in the Force. You will be difficult to sense through the Force, as though covered by a veil, but not invisible."

Her finger pointed to the next. Underneath it she had scribed, Wizra iw Midwan.

"This is the Sigil of Power, it channels the energy of the coupled mark and is necessary in order to maintain the desired effect. Without it, the enchantment will not stick. You must carve these two sigils into your pendant with the outmost accuracy. One slip and you weaken the result."

A rather large bubble burst in the concoction, throwing drops of it on the table. Minute plumes of smoke rose as it etched into the metal, and Ophidia took care to move all papers away from the steadily heating mass. Then, she turned down the heat of the cauldron.

[member="Darth Novus"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He watched the cauldron lightly, eyes fixed. It was a strange concoction, looked harmful to touch. He shuddered lightly, breaking his stare. He looked at the Sith Lady, nodding lightly as she spoke. He would need to be careful, take his time to get every little detail perfect. He wanted this to work, this needed to work. He wanted to go unnoticed in the force, it would make the hunt of Darth Kentarch easier and he'd be able to get the drop on the Sith.

He took a small carving took and the paper, sitting back down. Slowly, carefully he began to carve, careful. He didn't want to ruin this, it wouldn't really do anyone any good if he ruined it. He began to copy the sigil, slowly taking his time. Once happy with the beginning shape of the sigil, he began to carve the rest of the sigil itself, taking time to add every little detail on the paper, trace it perfectly out onto the pendant.

The sigil of shrouding was complete, it'd taken a half hour but it was complete.

He began on the sigil of power in much the same way, taking his time to make the sigil perfect. He made the basic shape first, begging to add the details of the sigil of power itself. He shrugged to himself, taking his time. A half hour later, the second sigil was completed and in place. He eyed his work, nodding to himself, taking the pendant in his grasp. He strolled over to the Sith Lady.

"It is complete"

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

While [member="Darth Novus"] worked on his sigils, Darth Ophidia sat down once again. This time, she picked up something akin to a notebook, bound in leather and with high-quality flimsiplast sheets inside. She drew a pen from its spine and started scribbling and muttering to herself. Now and again, she bit the back of the pen and stared down at her scribbles in thought. Then, suddenly, she would smile and begin scribbling again.

She sat absorbed with her little notebook for the duration of Novus' work. Only when Novus appeared to finish his second sigil did she look up. The book slammed shut and the pen was placed back in the spine before being tucked into her robes. She stood and inspected his work closely, comparing it to the sigils she knew. It was good enough, the construction seemed solid enough to withstand the alchemy process.

"This is fine. It's time to begin the alchemical process proper."

A knife flew from the table and into her hand. She twirled it between her fingers before gripping it between thumb and forefinger. Every process needed a blood-sacrifice from the alchemist. With her other hand, she flitted through a few pages of the tome of spells and alchemy before stopping on a bookmarked page. The Spell of Permanency.

"Stand by the cauldron. I will guide you through the rituals. First, you will need to sacrifice some of your own blood to the talisman, then submerse it in the basin."

As she spoke, she gestured to the knife, the the pendant, and the cauldron in turn. She was cautious near the basin, as once she had plunged her left hand into one and felt it tear the skin from her flesh. It was easy to forget that Alchemy was born of the dark side of the Force. It was powerful, but merciless. Show it a moment of weakness, and it would destroy you.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

Spoiler

Short because I really can't think of much for this bit

This alchemy thing was getting worse day in and day out. He took the knife in his grasp, stood lightly by the cauldron lightly. He felt the blade trace across his hand, blood starting to spill. He blocked out the pain, gripping a tight fist. It hurt, but he'd get over it and he'd be fine. He gripped his hand, blood dripping to where it needed to be. Then he had to suffer a fate. He growled, hand diving into the basin.

Instantly he regretted it, he felt the pain, he didn't want to show it. He gritted his teeth, staring at a blank space on the wall. The pain was clouding his vision, he felt his knees under him starting to give out. He blinked, the pain shooting through him. He breathed, calling upon the force in his moment of breathing room. He didn't do it before, he wanted to try and shut out the pain, but the pain was spawned by the darkside. The best way to stop it would be to use the darkside.

Instantly, it was clearer.

"The next step?"

 

[Darth Ophidia]

It was important to note that while she was reminded of a time she placed her hand in the basin to push venom out of her body, she had not asked her student to do the same. She had merely asked him to give some of his blood. It was quite the dramatic gesture, perhaps he was the overly dramatic type. It would certainly befit his masked appearance to hold to such an impractical value. Then again, this was the time for teaching, not for judgement of character.

"Remove your hand from the basin if you wish for it to remain attached. It will melt the flesh from your bones if you don't."

She took a few rags from the table and threw them in his direction to wrap his arm in, and a pair of tongs to carry the pendant with.

"Every process of alchemy requires a blood sacrifice. To give more, unless otherwise specified, is fruitless and wasteful."

She placed her finger upon the open pages of the old tome. It described a ritual that would have to be performed in order to bind the power of the sigils to the talisman. Done carelessly, like all sorceries, it could open a rift and swallow one whole. Ambitious amateurs had lost life, limb, and sanity by being careless with this, the most routine element of the process.

"Now is the spell of bonding. It will give your talisman its power and bind it. Without it, the power will slip away like sand in a broken jar. I will walk you through the ritual, then we perform it together. The ritual must be cast now, as well as by dawn and dusk for three consecutive days. During this time, you will be fasting. Breaking the fast breaks the ritual"

Darth Ophidia pulled the black cover aside, revealing a symbol engraved into the metal surface of her table. It was one of the reasons she had brought it along. The pre-made symbol saved time and was designed so as to be perfect to the last detail. This made alchemy a far simpler task.

"First, you place the talisman upon the ritual marking. Make sure there is still some liquid left on it from the basin, it helps conducting the dark energies."

She gestured to the middle of the alchemical symbol with her right hand. Her left stayed on the page with the ritual's description, marking where the chant begun.

"Then, we must read the chant on this page. Pronunciation is key, and it helps if you understand the text. Can you read High Sith, [member="Darth Novus"]?"

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He pulled his hand from the basin, growling lightly as he dried it off. He threw the towel aside, useless to him. Colt reached out, his fingers wrapping around the ice cold metal of the tongs as the Sith Lady spoke. He took the talisman by the tongs, smiling as she continued. Alchemy was hard, it was easy to get lost in the instructions and if you failed the alchemy would have you killed. One mistake and you would die, but you got lost in the instructions and thus risked a mistake.

Slightly harsh, but worth the risk. The power alchemy could grant was worth it.

He slid the talisman into place, eyeing the Sith Lady. If he spoke High Sith before, he didn't remember it after his mind loss. He shook his head, eyeing the page. He seemed to notice one or two words, nothing else. If he knew High Sith, he clearly didn't remember it. He shrugged, eyeing the pendant, the talisman again.

"I do not, or at least I can't remember it if I did"

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"If you cannot, then it doesn't matter whether or not you once could. Try to repeat after me as accurately as possible."

She brought the book to Novus and traced her finger under the text as she read aloud. Her words were slow and clear, making emphasis on him catching the nature of each and every sound. She did not cast the spell, but ran him through the words. There would also be gestures and a spiritual focus that would help transferring the power of word and of the dark side of the Force, onto the talisman.

The text read:

Jin' Qyâsik tzirji diâ tsatoti aji ki dzuontai. Jin' Qyâsik tzirji diâ tsatoti aji ki dzuontai.
Jin' Qyâsik rodyt kan Nu shiyi nasosûtrichi ir ra kata iw ri tzihira. Rodyt diâ shasona waini ri midwan Nu hyar.
Jin' Qyâsik, tzirji diâ tsatoti, nisosûti midwan an tzihra diâ tzihra an kata. Satkari ki sis midwan mazo anas Nu kiha satyi j'us.
Jin' Qyâsik tzirji diâ tsatoti aji ki dzuontai.

"This is to be repeated until you feel the Force answer. To cast, you must focus your entire being upon the ritual and wield the power of the dark side of the Force."

[member="Darth Novus"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He listened as the Sith Lady taught him the chant lightly, repeating it slowly. It was going to be hard to get it perfect, but he could get it close to perfect. He kept repeating the chant in High Sith, smiling under his mask. Slowly he began to feel out with the force, his anger and hatred reaching out, powering out in the force, the darkside pulling at him, his source of power becoming the greatest source of power.

He was focused, he felt the force pulling at him, but he kept going. It was tiring, extending the force in this way. He breathed lightly under the mask, continuing pushing the force from his skeleton. His body was tiring, but he kept going, he needed... he had to keep going. He flicked his eyes to the Sith Lady lightly, nodding to her. It was harsh, he was tiring quicker and quicker, but he was keeping it up.

He had to.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

As Novus started to get the hang of the chant, she toned out and observed. Her hands folded at her midriff as she stared down at the talisman. Darth Ophidia could feel the energy being drawn from her student and into the talisman. The blood and remains of the basin that remained in the pendant's crevices were now sucked into its form. The parts of the basin that had dripped off was now slowly sucked into the talisman as it absorbed its power. When there was nothing more to absorb, Ophidia knew this was the point of no return.

Tremors went through air like a rapid heartbeat, a scent of ozone centred around the talisman as sparks started arcing from the table to the talisman, only to disperse through the silver and set the corusca gem aglow. In the corners of the room and along the walls, shadows danced in ways one would not think possible in the setting of the light. The dark side of the Force was present, and soon [member="Darth Novus"] would hear his answer echoing from the talisman.