The Shaper
The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity || Whilstone of Power||
Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian || Empyrean Gland
Voice Sample
Allies:
Anak Darkstar
Darth Kentarch
Lucia Naberrie
UX-0626
Viktor
Enemies:
Celt Saxon
Rhys Swynol
Zorana
To Confront, As Agreed:
Hilal Vizsla
To Confront, If She Dares:
Shakka Bralor
A Wayward Creation, To Be Brought to Heel:
Domina Prime
Ertrax.
Hardly the first place The Shaper would have chosen to once again experience the thrill of bloodshed and impassioned battle, quite the opposite really, but what he could not ignore was the opportunity presented to him in their enemies. Not at all who they were, their names and faces mattered not to the Sith Lord, rather it was WHAT they were that interested him. He had, of course, heard of their culture during his time as Emperor, learned of their culture, their practices, and had met one of their kind who would call himself Alor. All told The Shaper saw quite the opportunity in culling these fools while they were busy grasping beyond their means, but even fools could be proficient if put in their area of limited expertise and if there was one expertise one could expect from even the dullest Mandalorian it was warfare. A trait he felt some echo of sorrow at being wasted on his current foes before, inevitably, setting about his glorious work.
It was the orders and actions of one Darth Kentarch that had drawn his craft here, after all, and while The Shaper was widely removed from current politics he could not quite allow an opportunity to stretch his proverbial wings to pass him by so blatantly. He supposed he shared that traits with their foes, if nothing else, and so in a mirrored action his current foes the Once-Emperor would be flown down to the battlefield, airship doors opened, and he would descend upon the battlefield in much the same fashion as his foes, though he relied not on some cumbersome work of circuits and wiring to halt his descent. Instead it was his will that held his body aloft as he approached the ground, air rushing and curling about to cradle him down gently to the ground, his feet smothering the stone beneath him as surely as he would the efforts of his foes.
With a calm smile on his face, that corona of darkness about the Sith Lord flared like a blazing ring of unseen fire, his voice traveling to Darth Kentarch through the Force rather than over any sort of technology. A dark, invigorating whisper as The Shaper turned his eyes skyward.
"
Your request for aid was noted Lord of Dusk, do not squander it."
As much fun as leaping headlong into battle sounded, with Acharn strapped over his cloaked back and Urfael at his hip, The Shaper took a moment to cast his senses skyward and hummed. Heated darkness flowed upon his breathe as his eyes began to burn a low, heated crimson, like the fires of a bottomless forge fit to ignite into a roaring tornado of flame and torment. The words that echoed from The Shaper were only to himself as he noted the low-flying gunships currently depositing vermin upon his people and with a low intonation he would shake his head, his raven locks swept about him in a mockery of a dark halo as he rumbled.
"
That will not DO."
True to his namesake The Shaper's will spread out to the very air of Ertrax itself, shaping it, staining the Force with his dark desires, twisting nature and compressing molecules until they shrieked in obedience to his command. Clouds began to gather, thick with cloy winds that reeked of death and shadow, arcs of lightning converging in the air where the gunships seemed to be either seeking to drop more Mandalorians or, equally likely, attempt to provide aerial support.
It felt so
GOOD to be exerting his will and newfound power, and though he felt the strain of the effort, the acrid taste upon his tongue as the Force attempted to rip from him a price for his actions the false light of his Whilstones invigorated his person. Flooding down from the crown of his head, and the crown upon his head even, it was like liquid ecstasy, magmatic power that warmed and soothed his veins as he let out a hiss between clenched teeth. The storm would carry on for a time now, expending the energy charged into the air as bolts of lightning struck both at and around the gunships and the area they seemed to prioritize but now.... now The Shaper strode with purpose toward the base. His fingers flexing and back straightened proudly as he then did something that was rarely seen among his people, for both their benefit and detriment.... he focused on others.
As something of a.... reward for being the one with the foresight to request aid The Shaper's corona of darkness would now spread out to Darth Kentarch first. An application of Battle Meditation only the Sith Lord's prodigious power allowed him to do so soon after conjuring the storm he had, and to the Lord of Dusk The Shaper would offer power and an invigorating sense of energy, a refinement of the reflexes and a pool of energy to draw upon should he wish it. Something between a command and words of reinforcement reaching out to Darth Kentarch.
"
Show them your power, Lord of Dusk, the Dark Side itself favors you. Bring them pain as only you can."
But this was far from all The Shaper could do now that he was, mostly, safe within the walls of the outpost. With time to still his body and focus on the meditation, letting his burning desire for battle spill across the Force he would also reach out to the prodigal son Anak Darkstar, and to the younger Sith The Shaper's meditation offered strength and fury. A blazing reinforcement of his youth and focus, an offer to bolster his body and even from this distance mend his aching body. Should he, of course, accept the power offered. Another equal part command and equal part 'encouragement' hissing in The Shaper's tone to the young Sith.
"
Bring them their ruin, young Sith, your blood is the blood of rulers and those who have conquered stars, let them know what price they will pay for every drop spilt."
With that done and The Shaper now motionless form standing, motionless, outside the main complex structure of the outpost but well within it's boundaries and defenses his lips moved in silent syllables of power. His focus, for the moment, screeching through the Force like the wail of a still-restrained titan thirsting for blood, tainting the air, souring reality, and emboldening two other Sith with potential and promise, if only they chose to show it in the here and now.
