Private LotS │ The Seventh Day Emperor

[Aspect of Passion]

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Zygerria
After the initial invasion...

The once-great capital of a slave empire stood in a crumbling fire. Plains burned for miles, cities atop massive mesas were little more than pillars of smoke, and the Graug pillaged endlessly across the planet's surface. Nothing remained but war, marring everything that still lived with the burns of struggle, of war, and of evolution. Change to a planet that could not fight for itself, forced upon it by The Lord of Embers.​

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High atop the largest yet standing mesa stood a city stained in soot and ash; blood running through gutters as ships entered and left with haste. Some taking what remained off-planet, others bringing supplies, many more simply joy rides across the planet. Amidst the city and its traffic stood a tower half fallen, within a war council just settled on what must be done next. Led by Darth Vulcanus, it ended with a plan for the future - but it left the Emperor alone, for only a moment.​

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As the door closed behind the last to leave, the air hung suddenly cold. The sound of fire in the distance grew silent, the light began to flicker, and in the sparing moment before Vulcanus would even sense what was occurring - a massive, three-meter figure with five electrum masks appeared before him. It seemed to groan like metal stressed before ceasing - void-like eyes settling on the massive Graug Warlord, its attention more than obvious.​

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"Khaan of the Graug.", the lead voice offered.​

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"The Seventh Day Emperor.", an angry man followed.​

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"Darth Vulcanus.", a woman ended.​

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"It is a pleasure to bear witness to what you've done - to see weakness driven before strength. Tell me, was this your bidding?", the voice asked, as though it knew something was amiss.​

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Other Space Kaiden​

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Dark and tumultuous was the sky that loomed over Zygerria, clouds black as pitch and bellies rumbling with thunder. Wicked storms had brewed across the slaver world, concocted from the ash of cities and the smoke from a past burned away. So vast were the infernos that the pillars of smoke hung like a curtain, vanishing entire mountain ranges behind a black haze. Stars and sunlight were a distant memory against the cruel reality of today. The twinkle of stars replaced by embers on wind and what sunlight made it through the veil of destruction became little more than bloodred streaks cutting between the clouds.

The ruination had sown a path of destruction already, yet it was far from over. So much was yet undone. Vulcanus had summoned his priests and generals to one of the few palace towers left standing after the invasion. The room they now occupied had been disemboweled, its silk entrails torn out and strown across the rooftops below. Books and holos, desks and shelves - all gutted and cast to the streets below. In their place reigned banners the color of the crimson stains on the cobbles and emblazoned upon them was a twisted visage of a horned Graug skull set inside the outline of a bladed pyramid. Similar emblems of The Eternal Horde now decorated the entire capital city, bringing a new shadow of terror that far surpassed that of the Zygerrian lash. Across the city the lights had ceased to work, instead replaced by the ominous glow of torchlight that added to the already orange hue of the burning infrastructure.

For hours the black mass of monstrous advisors spoke to their living God amid torchlight. Plans were laid to sort the slaves and begin work on the first hollows. Strategy outlined on what would be done with those rebellious Zygerrians who took to the forests. Who would live. Who would die. Millions of lives subjugated to enslavement with a grunt. Another million sentenced to die with a hiss. The world of Zygerria was divided, split and decimated with the casual disregard of beings exterminating a hill of insects to make way for something much grander.

At last, when the first plans were set to stone, the mob of warlords were set to work - leaving their God to his throne. Vulcanus watched as the beasts filed out, standing from his seat as the last shuffled from the door. Marching towards the table set in the center of the room, The Seventh Day Emperor gazed upon the crude map of the city spread over it.

Then the air shifted, became tainted with a musk foul to even his senses. The torchlight receeded. Flickered. Then the gratting sound of bending metal.

He was no longer alone.

The torchlight flared at Vulcanus' whim, small amber flames becoming raging, blue infernos as he spun on the intruder. A black void unfolded into existence, a mound of shadows with five masks upon five faces. The inferno grew hotter, sweating the cobbles as the flames faded to a ghostly green that blanketed the room in a phantom glow that burned everything, yet illuminated nothing. These ghostly flames, imbued with the darkside, circled the room in a perfect cyclone - awaiting their master's whim to engulf the creature materalizing before him.

In chorus of shifting voices the being spoke to him - each voice faint and distant like a desert mirage. It called him by old titles. Questioned his command.

"The Graug obey their god and their god only, lesser" Vulcanus hissed past necrotic gums, "my will alone decides what burns and I've yet to decide what will burn next."

The fire flared again, the hungering tongues of flames licking the cobbles at the intruder's feet to make his point. This filth had called him by his title of Seventh Day Emperor - an insult that few would dare to his face.

"Which Zambrano sent you scurrying to my feet? So weak, are they, that they send a puppet to demand my obedience?" The beast's chain rattled as he stepped forward, "too afraid to use their cowardly artifact to end my life? Of course they are...they know the Sith would crumble without my people."

The Lord of Embers snarled, "The only question worth asking now is how many pieces ill send you back in."

 

[Aspect of Passion]

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Zygerria
After the initial invasion...

"Anger."​

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"Passion."​

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"You hold your emotions far from your chest, open to bear. You know strength in them, know fear is your ally.", the voice mused back at Vulcanus.​

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"But we are not afraid.", a child interjected, scornful and decisive in its tone.​

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The Worm Emperor trailed over the cobble that lay still smoldering, and where he walked fire ceased. All that was the Force seemed to fall into his form - and even as he walked towards the table, anything that lived off it would feel its flickering weakness. Rising, falling, the Darkside bent towards this abomination with every syllable that left his masks.​

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"Five Masks. You will only ever send me away with Five Masks, my child.", the voice offered once more.​

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"No more."​

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"No less."​

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"But that day is not today - and it is not the Zambranos that have sent me to drive you into obedience like a slave. On the contrary, I want to free you, Vulcanus."​

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"Break the chains that bind."​

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"A God Remade."​

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"Free you so you may yet help to remake the Sith. To drive the Empire from its place of comfort, hear the lamentations of her people, and take back a Kingdom in your name, if not the Zambrano's throne itself."​

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Other Space Kaiden​

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

The darkside warbled before the creature as it drug its disgusting form across the cobbles. The shock that filled Vulcanus as he watched the green flames blink from existence could not be hidden. After all, this...thing had spoken truthfully. The Living God made no attempt to mask his emotions, it would he useless to even try. His power, the raw strength and will to manifest fire from the darkside itself, was not something subtlety had granted him. To obtain his unique form of pyromantic technique required something even the greatest Sith did not possess - though they may have far outmatched him in their other abilities.

Vulcanic pyromancy was the essence of raw emotion - unhindered by pity, remorse, empathy, joy, control and experiences. The greatest of his time, Darth Carnifex , Darth Prazutis , Darth Voracitos , among others - as well as the greatest of the past - all shared something in common that Vulcanus lacked. Something that was their strength in all ways but this one. Complexity.

The complexity of their grand schemes. From philosphies on the Darkside to how they viewed themselves within it. Subconscious or otherwise their relationship to the Darkside was a layered one. But Vulcanus was a simple creature from a simple species created long ago for one thing. To conquer. To rule.

Was he deceptive? Perhaps, but only in so that he had the ability to withhold information - rarely did he scheme in ways that were anything but open. Could he plan? Of course - but no soul could claim his plans were anything but taking a hammer to a nail. Life to him was unhindered by layers of experiences and subtle complexities that shape a mind developed through evolution.

Life was killing. Conquering. Ruling. Fear - and even that had been conquered during the recent events on Koriban. The Darkside to him had been always would be one thing - destruction. When one's mind is consumed with only lust for death, destruction and conquest it is not hard to rip from the Darkside such explosive power. If only he poured more thought into the study of his power, he could achieve results that could bend the universe around him...but ironically such thought would only lose him access to his power forever. Much like Nihlus, whose drive to consume both cursed and gifted him, Vulcanus was trapped in a prison that could not be unmade.

"I have no interest in remaking The Sith" Vulcanus growled, the raging cyclone around them gradually fading to its natural orange as he reserved himself for the moment, "I have grown past a need for them. They will kneel or die like all the rest."

Though something had piqued his desire, "they know this. They know they are unable to stop me - so they chain me like a slave instead."

Taking the length of force imbued chain embedded in his chest, the creature held it high, "...Is that why you come here, worm? To break my chains in exchange for service? Then break it. Prove you have worth beyond meat at my boots - because extinguishing my flames will not be enough to save you."

"Unleash me and live or don't and die - but don't waste my time with your promises."

 

[Aspect of Passion]

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Zygerria
After the initial invasion...

"Sweet child...", the voice seemed to muse, some falling into a central tone that sounded like a thousand voices and none.​

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"Your goal, your ambition - its simplicity is the Sith, unhindered and unbound. May you not see it, but you are more Sith than most."​

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"A conquerer."​

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"A King."​

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A shrouded arm lifted itself from beneath the cloak - though it seemed to move in an unnatural way. Long and lanky, thin but dripping - the air seemed to fall in waves behind where it moved. Elongated fingers found embrace on the chain, and the seemingly delicate grip already began to form small cracks in its forging.​

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"It is your ambition that will remake the Sith. Your actions. Not you.", he said as cracks began to move along it - eventually disappearing into Krag's chest, where the chain lay bound in flesh.​

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"It is power.", the voices offered in tandem as the torches began to fall to little more than pin pricks in black fabric. Shadow began to encase the room.​

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"It is passion.", the chain itself became the only form of light - its cracks bleeding harsh white light.​

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"It is all these things that will set the Sith free - and it is this chain that represents all they have done wrong. Their hubris, their willingness to chain the strong to protect themselves. They marry themselves to thrones, live and die through propaganda, castrate the very minions they choose to fight for them."​

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The chain began to crumble as he spoke, dust slowly falling between fingers before the hand retreated behind the robes. Each link fell one after the other, before it eventually drove itself into Krag's chest. Within it would not be dust - but pain, endless and tormenting as he would feel far more than a simple tug. It grew white hot, threatened to burn the pyromancer from the inside out with his own flames - only to grow even hotter.​

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All before he could both feel and hear the crack of its power breaking. It would send the Khaan to his knees, and leave none standing but the Worm Emperor. Only one mask would look down to peer into Krag's eyes.​

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"You will be the punishment for their sins. Rise, Darth Vulcanus, and seek the end of those who have wronged you - and when you have undone their crimes, I ask you to kill me. A day we will both rejoice in."​

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Other Space Kaiden​

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Unimaginable agony ripped through his body at the faintest touch of The Worm. Metal prongs dug deep into his flesh as the living chain flexed - shredding nerves and tearing muscle. The beast howled until his vocal cords felt ready to snap, his voice sundering the silence as his chest tightened. Vulcanus' fist came down like a hammer on the table in the center of the room, his meaty claws pulverized the wood and shattering the fixture into dozens of pieces.

Vulcanus tumbled down with it - breathe caught in his chest. He struggled to take in air but no amount of suction seemed to work - leaving the beast a heaving, suffocating mound of flesh on the floor. The chain flexed again and he could hear the razors digging gouges out of the inside of his skull like nails on a chalkboard. Black ooze drained from his nostrils and pooled on the floor nexted to his gapping maw as the chain began glowing white. The ripping stopped, but so began something far worse.

Deep inside it felt like he was peeling and what air was left in his lungs was forced out in a gasp. A thousand needles jabbed at his insides, poking and prodding deep. A thousand needles became a million and more - extracting every excruciation it could from his body.

He was Burning. It'd been so many years since he'd felt, truly felt, what fire did to the flesh. The beast convulsed, sulfuric eyes rolling into the darkness of his skull and his black tongue falling limp to the floor. It was then that the door to the room swung open and two tall, gangly priests ran into the room. The monstrosities stopped dead when they saw their God convulsing, blood draining and eyes rolled back.

Speechless. They did naught but gawk as the chain grew so hot it sealed the gaping holes Vulcanus' chest. Then there was darkness. Cold. Empty. Darkness. Then a sudden spark. Vulcanus' eyes slid open, fire still coursing through his veins..and agony. True agony. The world was dull around him as his lungs took there first breath in what may as well have been an eternity.

The beast of war did his best to fuel himself through his own pain, but the shot of power did little. Slowly he pushed off the ground on trembling arms, reptilian eyes passing over the two priests who tumbled who tumbled in circles in his vision. He managed to find a knee, looked towards the intruder and found only two black holes staring back at him.

Punishment. Sin.

He'd heard of the concept before from those he'd tortured and killed in the past. The concept was vague to him. A graug could relate to it only in that sin was something that, if done, led to punishment. The world's tumbled in the Graug's skull as he rose to his feet, still trembling like a crumbling mountain. He said nothing, though his mouth still hung drooling and agap. He turned to his priests wordlessly. He reached out to them...but his body...his mind. It was all so weak.

He approached them instead, moving away from The Worm without a word. They did not bow nor run, they stood motionless as if in shock.

"G-great divine one?" A single priest managed to hiss as Vulcanus hung weak arms over each of their shoulders. There was no answer, simply the gradual squeezing of muscle into their necks. There was a quiet struggle, the priest's feet kicking in the air as Vulcanus weakly lifted them. Some moments passed silently...then their feet went still. None could live who'd seen their god so weak.

Quietly, Vulcanus stumbled to the door. It creaked closed, clicking gently against the push of the massive Sith. Then again there was absolute silence between them.

Until finally, "punishment" Vulcanus called to The Worm weakly, running a hand over the jagged, twisted remnant of chain in his chest. He understood what sin was now, at least in his own twisted way. Sin was weakness, at its core. Sin was bringing an Emperor back from the dead to fight battles you could not win yourself.

Sin was failing to evolve your own power. Perhaps he was punishment. He turned a sulfuric eye back to The Worm and its twisted body. Vulcanus had already ascended to something more than a mere Sith...so far that now his true obstacles were no longer mere mortals.

Gods fight, truly, only among each other. All else was simply a game. And this...worm he'd never smelled such darkness. It must have been the God of Sith - just as he was God of Graug. He had always heard of Bogan and the Left Handed God from The Sith, after all.

"Sin. Weakness. These things are the same?" The beast questioned, but only rhetorically. He was certain he understood. Turning, Vulcanus allowed his arms to fall to his sides as he faced The Worm, his voice strained, "then we agree. The Sith are weak because their God is weak. Because their rulers are weak. It must be corrected.

"I am their punishment and once I have conquered them...I will punish the sin of their God" Vulcanus' eyes narrowed on The Worm, "and take his place"

 

[Aspect of Passion]

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Zygerria
After the initial invasion...

Were it only possible for those masks to change expression, Vulcanus would almost swear he would see a smile on one of the masks faces - though only for the briefest of moments before they returned to their overbearing, toxic darkness that seemed to tug on the very sensation of sight itself. As though the Worm Emperor were no more than a whirlpool in the ocean - slowly dragging one deeper into the void.​

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However, when Vulcanus spoke - the Worm did not respond. They both know it was rhetorical, a self realization, and so the air stayed filled with only the Khaan's words until he spoke of murder.​

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"When the days comes, you will replace their god. Yet mind - there are others who seek the same, and only the strongest among you will achieve what you hope for. To take up the mantle of strength is responsibility and a death sentence in one; that you too may one day die when another finds the sin you harbor."​

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"The weakness that grows."​

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"The strength that hides."​

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"Do what must be done, Darth Vulcanus. We will see you, and your efforts, soon.", the Emperor offered in his regal bassy tone.​

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And then, without so much as a goodbye - the massive figure was gone. The lights returned, the air of oppression gone, and little but a sticky black smoke seemed to remain where the Emperor once stood - but there was a clear indication in it, that if Vulancus so wished, the Worm Emperor would know, and he would return when he truly required him.​

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Other Space Kaiden​