In Blackest Night

[Malok]

I began at Dusk.

As the Sun dipped below the Horizon did I emerge from the depths of my Sanctuary.

Behind me came the men in chains. It was quite the sight to behold - those who had placed irons on others being paraded in the same. Those who were broken were shackled to those who survived the exploration of the past; yet none would survive this. Before them laid only stone: the mountains of Ryloth basked in the final light of the day.

And the ritual site that had been prepared beforehand.

A circle of mammoth stones had been erected. And upon each, crimson runes to direct the flow of the agony. They were joined by matching lines, each flowing from the stone and onto the earth. The crimson web was woven thus about two focal points: onyx basins that were empty. For now.

Aided only by the hands of droids did I proceed this day.

The Slavers were promptly guided by their bonds.

 

[Malok]

The Droids wasted no time in making absolutely certain that they could not struggle.

A single ring had been impedded into each stone: a basic measure to keep the chains in place. One by one, the slavers were set into their positions. One by one did the reality begin to set in all the more. Their pleas fell upon deaf ears: "You can't do this!" they exclaimed. "Let me go! Please!" they cried. They begged. They pleaded.

I carried on.

The Core rested upon the flat of my hand, dormant for the time being. With but a single word, its form would begin to move in perpetual motion - turning upon itself over and over in a ceaseless cycle. I did not rouse the Core from its slumber just yet, as there were but a few more steps to be had.

With but a nod, I instructed the Droids to take the next step.

They drew the blades.

 

[Malok]

Now, fresh wails filled the dusk air.

But I knew mercy. Those who were broken...who did not even know what direction was up...this was their sweet release from torment. For them, they would go beyond. They would see what I did when the fires of Mandalore swallowed me whole. They would be greeted by that warmth - by that fabled light...

But the others were left behind.

And they would not be so fortunate. For them, there was no afterlife to be had. No sweet release. No eternal lack of pain. No, for them existed a new reality that they would know evermore. Once the Droids had released those lucky few, their blades found the chests of the survivors. Further runes were etched, this time directly into flesh.

And as their cries filled the air, the blood of the deceased flowed swift along the lines.

The Crimson Web came alive.

 

[Malok]

All could feel it.

Even the weakest among the survivors could recognize the presence of the Dark Side. As the life blood of the deceased spilled freely down, a murky light characterized the lines. This light beckoned the presence from beyond: the Dark Providence from whom all Alchemy flowed. But this was just beginning. This was simply setting the tablecloth before the meal.

I uttered the words.

Within my palm did the Core begin to flutter - but I did not hold it at bay. Upon the space between the two basins did it float, suspended by its own might. The Terror that it produced was palpable, enough so that those who remained could feel it despite being at the fringes of its radius.

As my grasp was now free, I opened my arms, spreading them wide.

I uttered the words - the very same incantation that had caused this nightmare to begin. The very same that had made that ancient creator learn the price of hubris. And at the beckoning of the Beasts did the flesh runes react. Burning. Boiling. There was nothing they could do, save scream.

 

[Malok]

The smoke rose from within them.

It began as whisps, rising from the arcane circles. It moved slowly, rising until it was a murky cloud before their frantic eyes. Yet form gripped this chaotic mass. Form saw the cloud elevated into something far more terrifying. The cadre manifested as humanoids.

Their skin was onyx, yet tainted by crimson lines.

Horns adorned their foreheads. Fangs lined their mouths. They spoke no words, but each gazed upon the meat which had beckoned them from beyond. Their eyes then glowed a bright amber: shining with an intensity that caused the Slavers to look away. But the Demons, each and every one, gripped the chins of their charges.

They forced them to look.

They forced them to see that which they feared the absolute most.

 

[Malok]

As their fears were given an earthly body, the Terror they felt was paramount.

The pain. The fear. Their cries created a chorus of agony which caused the basins to stir. Uplifted by the blood of the fallen...fed by the fear of the chosen...the basins began to grow. An almost crystalline substance now began to cling to the exterior of each basin, growing in size and circumference as the confrontation progressed.

And now, it was my time to take my place.

I reached my hands to my lips, placing my thumbs flat between my fangs. A single bite split the flesh, introducing the warmth of my own life to my tongue. A step bore me closer to where the Core continued to spin - and I hovered my marred fingers over the basin.

I fed each precious drops of myself. I made myself apart of that which was growing. I would be apart of them. They would apart of me. There would no longer be a distinction between Darth Metus and his creations; not this day.

And as the blood dripped down into the basins, the crystalline forms tinged all the more crimson.

 

[Malok]

My role was done...for now.

Now came the Feast.

For but a moment, the Demons remained unchanged...Yet the time was nigh for their meal. Their mouths unhinged, growing and contouring in size. A gaping maw now faced those transfixed souls. And...for once...something occured swiftly. One after the other did the Demons swallow their meals whole, culminating with significant chunks being bitten out of the stone.

There were no longer screams.

There were no longer wails.

There were only Demons who had grown fat off of their meals.

Turning, the bloated beasts made their way forward, instinctively approaching the ever-growing basins. And, one after the other, did they step within. At the instant of their feet meeting the innards of the basin did their forms reduce to smoke: a perpetual cloud which hung within the confines of the basin. One after another did they cause the smoke to grow in size...but even as the last stepped in, it did not breach the borders of the basin.

 

[Malok]

I could feel them.

They were trapped. Perpetually so. An ocean of torment was their new reality. They would never see the light of day. They would never again know the peace of night. All they would know was a cycle of true, unbridled terror. All they would know is their worst fears come alive, until the end of time itself.

And thus was where the power of the Phobis Devices hailed from.

A perpetual cycle of terror, broiling within the heart of each device. And the shell...the crystallice form that quickly rose to fully encase the basin and smoke...would only serve to magnify the pressure. Like a vessel under duress...the pressure would only grow and grow until terror itself could be poured out across battlefields. Until personal, jarring images could be injected directly into the minds of the Sith's foes.

This was how the Phobis Devices were born anew in the Galaxy.

This was how I, Lord of Dread earned my name. Metus. Fear.

 

[Malok]

The Ritual was now complete.

The Devices were in their infancy. Like children, they needed time to mature into their full strength. They needed time for the agony to build within each. It was now that I turned to the attendants - those loyal droids who had accompanied this venture so far. With but a motion of my hand did they approach: each bearing sheets drenched in a thick material.

Known as Nullification Resin, this material would veil my efforts here today...for now. Once the Devices matured into their full might, I sincerely doubted that even the highest grade of this substance would see the terror abated. For now, a window of opportunity was present - for Ryloth could never be privy to what was transpiring here.

Once covered, the Phobis Devices grew silent...but I knew they were stirring. I know those Slavers were swallowing their terrors, over and over and over again.

 

[Malok]

And now, this journey is at an end.

The Devices and the Core...they are safe. Hidden away where even my Izevel does not know. I will keep them there until my enemies force my hand. I will keep them there until my enemies grow so bold as to encroach upon what is mine. Should that day come...and I feel that it is on the horizon...I will be ready for them.

I will unleash horrors upon them.

I will rob them of their peace. Of their coordination. Of their strength.

For I am Darth Metus. I am Fear.