Mountain of Regret

[Darth Prazutis]

Alderaan, Mountains, Rural Town

It was quiet.

Inside the mountain chains of Alderaan was a quiet, rural, peaceful town. It couldn't be found on any map and had no record on the holonet. As far as anyone was concerned it was entirely lost to history. It could only be found by name on planetary registries as a town thats always paid its share of taxes. It's people were proud, independent, isolationists who were more than willing to go about their day oblivious to the whims of galactic powers. It's people went to work while children studied in local schools, a simplistic, beautiful place on the edge of a great mountain. It wasn't too high to be cold, but low enough to enjoy the windy and temperate climates of Alderaan. It had no shortage of beauty a landscape of lush, greens and mountainous greys in equal measure, depending on where one was they could be gifted with quite the beautiful view off the mountainside. It was just another day...

Until it wasn't.

A visitor arrived on a shuttle that seemingly appeared out of thin air. It was a sleek, black model that dropped with a thump onto one of the towns only landing pads. The locals didn't seem shocked, surprised, or angered at the sudden shuttles appearance, they took note of it and simply moved on. A lone figure emerged from within its shadowy depths not surrounded by a full escort of guards, not accompanied by a full entourage, alone. The stranger was an absolute sight to behold a towering creature, a Mountain over eight feet in height and powerfully built. He wore a simple, dark garb nothing too fancy or out of place, just enough to fit in. There were no visible weapons, no great blades or lightsabers clipped to his sides. There was no swirling maelstrom of dark side energy, no aura that made one feel as if they stared into the void.

Yet it was still Braxus Zambrano known better as Darth Prazutis, Shadow Hand of the Sith Emperor.

The Shadow Hand made his way through the town quietly, he didn't talk to anyone and simply regarded their existence as they regarded his. A town deep in the echelons of his past. They rarely accepted outsider but for him? They did, and always regarded him as one of their own. He made his way to the very edge of town and walked into a very beautiful coffee shop, the smell of hot caf, fresh pastries, and pine filled the air of this modern durasteel and wood blended wonder. The entire cafe had been completely empty of customers and the closed sign was on the door, yet it was opened by the owner himself. It was an elderly man of no more than sixty with salt and pepper hair, a warm smile formed on his face. "Hello Braxus. It's good to see you." The elderly man said.

"Jeren. Place still looks good." The giant said as he passed the man through the door, holding out a credit chit for him to take, even before he bought anything. The chit alone had a small fortune on it, more than enough to pay his bills for the entire year, supply the shop, and maintain the place. As the Sith Lord walked through the door he made his way through the cafe where the man's wife and sons who all worked at the cafe moved about. "Your booth is all ready for you. I've made improvements since your last visit, it's now completely reinforced." Jeren said following just behind the giant as he looked around. The man's wife and sons all waved and he gave a simple gesture back as he made his way into the back of the shop. It was an uncharacteristically large booth set against a wall of windows showing an absolutely beautiful view of the landscape. The cushioned booth was extremely comfortable yet, far larger than anything a normal human would sit in, it fit the giant just fine however. The seat didn't so much as groan when the Shadow Hand took his coat off and sat down in it, and before he could even get settled a cup of scalding hot caf, and a pastry was brought to the table. A special, carefully cultivated Alderaani brew of caf. It was brewed exactly to how he liked it.

The town had been good to him centuries prior a past the known world knew little about, and one of the current owners ancestors had saved the Dark Titan's life, a lifetime ago. In return he gave them his word that he would always be grateful. Every year, once a year he comes back to the shop and spends hours in quiet contemplation drinking hot coffee, eating its pastries, occasionally talking to the family who ran it. Most who lived in the town were isolationists, a quiet people. No one recognized him here, he could do no wrong, and here he wasn't any one of the innumerable titles he carried. Here he was just Braxus. It was a guilty pleasure of the Lord of Lies. He took a long, deep sip of the coffee and shut the molten orbs called eyes, before opening them again with a sound of relief, before taking a bit of the pastry. "Excellent as always Jeren."

[member="Gerwald Lechner"]

Content Advisory Warning....

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

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Emptiness.

It was the only word to describe the sensation Gerwald felt whenever he touched that part of himself which had been bonded to [member="Naedira Darcrath"]. His life for the past year had been marked by the constancy of that bond, a truth he had come to accept as reality. Perhaps he’d allowed an emotional attachment to form beyond what he should have, maybe he hadn’t. Yet, since feeling her death through the force, and seeing the remains far beyond the use of bacta, Gerwald’s mind had been flooded with constant memories of missed opportunities, or moments such as their dancing a few months ago. Gerwald was always able to just be when Naedira was there, and now that she was gone who would be safe?

There was a pull to these memories. They were abnormal, pulling him toward a planet, glimpses of the man who had killed her. The scene of her death would flash before his eyes between each memory as if the Mountain which had destroyed her was calling to him to come and find him. It was a rash and foolish thing to do, but who was there to stop him. Naedira was dead, and he was not going to tell Alwine what he was thinking because he knew she would try and stop him. Gerwald did not want to be stopped.

Anger and hatred burned deep within. It was a fire shut up inside his bones, an unquenchable inferno.

Gerwald knew it was pushing further toward the darkness. His anger and hatred for the monster who killed his best friend was enough to make anyone succumb to the dark side of the force without any great effort. His journey had been subtle, but noticeable. The influence of others and his own choices had led him here, but giving in completely was made easy by the anger and rage which filled his bones.

Everything was a reaction to that anger. Even as Gerwald requisitioned a ship for the journey to Alderaan, it was a reaction. Nothing was done from a level head or clear thought. He simply wanted his revenge against a Mountain the wolf knew he had no chance of destroying. Gerwald could not simply sit idle and do nothing, not when he was being draw , not while the memories of a friend haunted his mind, and certainly not when there seemed to be a void where a bond once held fast. No, Gerwald would be a man of action, knowing he was likely marching to his death, but he’d rather join Naedira in death than be absent from her in life.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

A grin crept across his face.

After hours of simply sitting there nibbling on different pastries and enjoying cups of piping hot caf, he simply grinned much to the confusion of the older gentleman who stood nearby. A worried look came across the old mans face "Is something wrong with the caf?" Jeren asked. But the giant of a man simply shook his head in response "No. It appears those I have been expecting have arrived." The Shadow Hand said as he set the cup down on the table and stood up to his full impressive height. He began to loosen and undo the collar and cuffs of his shirt, working carefully to undo each and every button that lined the front. He pulled the shirt off and folded it neatly, placing it down on the seat. Beneath it was a small taozin amulet that hid the Sith Lord's immense aura, positioned atop an undershirt that clung tightly to him. But that too came off to reveal his powerful torso marred with scars. The scars were of a thousand battles, a thousand wars fought by the Dark Titan. Each and every scar held a story from deep into his past, and of each opponent who died trying to kill him. Deep profound, exotic sith war tattoos covered his body. "Who is it?" Jeren asked.

"Just a dog. One that needs to learn its place before me. Stay inside, there will be violence." He said, stretching his arms and his neck, eliciting a resounding pop noise. In truth everything had proceeded as he planned. The recent Invasion of Tanaab saw his utter annihilation of [member="Naedira Darcrath"] one of the unwashed masses given power and significance. She was nothing, insects held more value than the good natured abomination that tried to bar his path. So he broke her. He felt every snap, every rip and tear that reverbated through her petite form when he forced it unnaturally through three reinforced bulkheads. He could still smell ozone when the crimson lightning burned nerve endings and struck out across her body, most of all? The pungent stench of burning flesh and that flesh made when he set her bloodied form on fire. Even in death she was not safe from him, he made it known that death was a realm that could be conquered, and she was only done when he allowed it. She had no ability to stop him from ravaging her mind, rending it asunder and inside it he found a treasure trove of information, people, names. It allowed him to learn a good deal and in the end it gave him targets. More to suffer by his hand, more failures to break. But this one was the easiest of them all.

Gerwald Lechner.

Brash, headstrong, arrogant, and in love. All of the qualities in Gerwald painted him as someone very easily manipulated by one such as the Lord of Lies. Gerwald held some significance in the world of Naedira and that made him an ample target. But he couldn't simply hunt the boy no, he needed the boy to hunt him. So it was a simple plan to place the lure, to draw him towards Alderaan and the rabid dog would find his way soon enough. A lupine with a sister, a family. But now? He would come alone and face the jaws of oblivion alone, in such a place sacred to the past of Braxus Zambrano. A place that saved him, was good to him at one of his lowest points when he was but a man laid low through deception and lies. This wouldn't be so quick and decisive...there would be no [member="Veiere Arenais"] to come bringing the radiance of the light, and the power of a Jedi Grandmaster to bear. He would take his time. The Dark Titan would feel every single bone break and before the end he would take everything from him his identity, dignity, faith, his body, and even his sanity. He would be thorough. The shattered thing he left behind would be a shard of a Knight Obsidian, a fraction of the naïve boy who walked with his head too high, with a rod jammed too tightly up his keister.

Such was the price of attempting to exist in his world.

As soon as the owner and his family disappeared into the back of the shop the Sith Lord pulled the taozin amulet off his thick neck. It was like the opening of a dam, the unleashing of a vast flood. A massive maelstrom of darkness exploded in such size, such vastness the very lights blew out in the shop. It was a maelstrom of living darkness that ebbed and flowed, shuddered and heaved like a great wet lung. It crawled up the walls, across the floors and over ceilings. It brought out the darkest vermin and drew the psychopaths, while pushing the pure hearted, the good and the just away. A presence so thick it hitched breath in the throat, and brought bile up from the stomach. It added a heaviness to the air around him. A primordial darkness with deep roots into the heart of the void, the great beyond, the realm outside reality. In the reflection of the window his molten eyes burned with such fury they glowed like two blinding orbs back at him. He turned and walked a stride of supreme confidence it was the stride of a leader, a conqueror. The door swung wide on his approach and he exited into the outside world, slamming it behind him. He stood outside the coffee shop and reached out through the tethers of the force to the young lupines mind.

He would show the young man what Naedira looked like her broken form a puddle of blood on the floor, he would wrack his mind with her terrible screams, and fill the boys nostrils with the stench of burning flesh. Over this new fresh hell he would hear an otherworldly voice deep and profound. "I can still feel her petite forms bones snap, I can smell her scent on the air...mixed with the copper twang of blood, and ozone. Her death was not quick, just like yours."

[member="Gerwald Lechner"]

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Gerwald did not understand the choice of worlds, other than the mountain of a Sith would have been hunted down had he entered Confederate space. There was not one Knight which would not attempt to bring him in, even Metus himself, for the sheer display of violence and disregard for life. Naedira’s death was not simply the result of battle, but rather it was a demonstration of pure evil, death for the sake of death. Gerwald would be sure he made Parzutis pay, even if he died himself, Gerwald would at least make the Mountain pay. There were ways to make a more powerful man pay.

The Sith liked a show. As Gerwald moved about the town, it was clear the Sith wanted this confrontation to be public. The wolf didn’t care. Darkness called to him and Gerwald pressed in. He soaked it in, the sensation adding to the power and strength he already had. Gerwald was naturally strong in his own right, and unlike the Dark Lord, his skin was flawless. Anyone could survive a battle and collect scars, but it was the skilled combatant which did so without collecting a blemish. Gerwald was not simply a brutal animal, but he was a skilled butcher. When he killed it was with precision. The wolf inside him knew how to strike, where and when, to make each kill quick and efficient.

His body was adorned with the armor he wore into every fight. The Knight deviated from the typical armor crafted for the Knights Obsidian, and wore something more flexible. Gerwald liked to move, and his armor allowed for it. Besides he needed something that he could get out of easily if he wanted shift. Gerwald hated wearing armor as a wolf, his wolf hated it. This was something he was picky about, but not important to his motives for being on the planet. His armor was not going to stop the Sith when it came to the force, but would protect him from heavy blows.

As the man came into view, Gerwald felt the darkness form in his mind. Memories that were not his own, and sensations which were not his, flooded his mind. Naedira. Her body was destroyed, her flesh burned beyond recognition. The Sith even projected her scent, something Gerwald knew well. As a wolf he remembered scents the same way people remembered a face. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he approached the man with a ferocious intent broadcast with every step. He did not care if the man was almost two feet taller than him. There were few who made Gerwald feel small and in this moment, Gerwald did not feel small.

“Killing her wasn’t enough!?” The question stabbed at the Sith with the same low growl which rest in Gerwald’s throat. “I am going to make you pay.”

With the help of the force, Gerwald called his lightsaber to his hand. The black blade snapped to life and without hesitation, Gerwald readied himself to fight the Mountain.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Rage.

He felt rage pour from the form of the smaller man amidst a mix of other such emotions as the Lord of Lies pulled his strings, and like the good puppet he danced. The boy wasn't lacking in self confidence to willingly court oblivion. It was the product of untampered arrogance from a youth who thought the world revolved around him, who saw him the better compared to everyone else. Someone whose overinflated sense of importance overshadowed the truth. They were a mongrel, a lowborn dog, they were the vermin lying in filth with the rest of the rejects called the Knights Obsidian. They were flawed from the very beginning and none of them were ever destined for true greatness. If [member="Naedira Darcrath"] was the best of them? She the failure was one of their best? The Sith Lord could only imagine what else lurked among such an inferior stock. Even now the boy had such an overinflated belief in his own skill, he misunderstood what his true purpose was in being here. It wasn't a duel or a mission for vengeance.

It was a slaughter.

A brutal, horrifying, beating the likes of which he never experienced before nor would he again. He was just the pawn in a greater game played by someone so far above him, he could barely see him. Gerwald was nothing but a tool used to hurt Naedira's trapped ghost, and every other Knight Obsidian to drive his point home. Every example would be far more brutal, more visceral than the last. He would be laid bare before the world and when the end finally came the Dark Titan would claim his soul. "You challenge a god now boy. You misunderstand your true purpose here it is not vengeance. You did not come here on your own accord, you came here because I wanted you here, and nothing else." He bellowed, his otherworldly voice carried over the mountainous winds as he cracked his knuckles. Power surged around the man who conquered death itself, like the crushing rise before a tidal wave.

"You are going to die here and you will die screaming."

Boom.

Quite suddenly he was standing there and then he wasn't. It should've been a crime, a violation for someone that big to move that fast. The force flooded his body increasing his durability, fueling his speed. Lightsaber or no lightsaber, armor or no armor. The Mountain came in hard. Over six hundred pounds of muscle at higher speeds came charging in, a roar cutting loose into the air as he moved to quite literally run him over.

[member="Gerwald Lechner"]

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

The Sith seemed to like his speeches or his villainous monologues. Gerwald found it odd that some liked to reveal their plan. So he had been drawn there by this Dark Lord to die. Why? What had Gerwald ever done that he was about to be mutilated and killed slowly? If anyone deserved death it was the one who claimed to be a god. All of the evil which had been committed by the towering beast certainly warranted death, and who better to deal it than Gerwald. Yes, he knew that the talent and skill to do so were not in his grasp, and if the beast did do exactly as it claimed, then Gerwald would be happy. What did he have to live for anymore? The wolf had managed to destroy every relationship he touched, and the one he managed to actually not screw up, this mountain had taken from him. His relationship with [member="Naedira Darcrath"] was the only one he had not managed to taint, whatever the extent of that relationship was, and now it was gone, snuffed out without warning by something so vile and cruel as pointless death.

Arrogance.

The weakness and quality of most who claimed allegiance to the Sith Empire was in full display. Even in the way the Dark Lord moved. Did he think he would simply run over the wolf? Instinct and the Force gave away what was about to happen. It seemed to be an overconfident move on the part of the Sith, but one that was welcomed by the Lupine. Gerwald felt as the Sith pressed the Force to his legs to enhance his speed. The wolf warned him that he was in danger if Gerwald did not move. It was a feeling in his gut, the same kind of feeling which told Gerwald when to run and when to fight. Rage mixed with adrenaline made Gerwald confront the man. He would not run from the fight, but he would make the Sith regret overplaying his hand.

Gerwald enhanced his own speed, side stepping the Sith in barely enough time. The shift did allow Gerwald one opportunity to strike, and so he did. Bringing the black blade of saber down in a hard slash, Gerwald aimed for the back of the man's right knee. He hoped to sever the leg, or at least cut the tendons and ligaments which would serve to handicap the Sith's movements, even with the force. Such a prideful display of overconfidence told Gerwald one thing. Even if he died, the Sith would earn every bit of the damage he caused Gerwald. Gerwald would not go down without a fight, and Mountain would not walk away unscathed in body or ego.

"You think I care whether I am here for vengeance or death? Do you think there is any more you could possibly take from me that you have not already," Gerwald spat out his words with rage and vitriol. "I loved her... I still do despite what you have done. Death... no matter how painful or slow... would never match the pain of what I feel now. You only be releasing me from the guilt and loss that haunts me, or the sensation of feeling someone you are bonded with through the force die. I promise you... there would be no greater satisfaction you could give me."

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

It appeared to be a simple, crude move to charge down the lupine.

A truly harrowing thing to see the giant charge across the open plane towards the smaller lupine. A simple side step by the intelligent warrior to deliver a strike against the back of the Mountain's leg. As the lightsaber came down however there was a massive explosion. A surge of power like the gale force winds of a hurricane that exploded in all directions from the Lord of Lies. The blast was strong enough to shatter windows and blast low grade stone into bits. It was an attempt at knocking the lupine clear off his feet, unbalancing him.

That wasn't all.

"Suffering? You don't know the meaning of the word. But you will. I promise you." Darth Prazutis said as he descended upon the young man knocked off his feet. He was right on top of him then as he began to rain blows down upon him. Just one full forced strike from the massive Mountain was enough to shatter the skull of a human, but now? Five, ten, twenty blows rained down against the young Gerwald. One colossal foot held him down while he rained down brutal strikes, ringing his brain around inside his skull like a church bell. He hoisted the young Gerwald up into the air and tossed him into the wall of an adjacent building. As he approached a cutting blast of sith lightning exploded from his hands. The stench of ozone and burning flesh filled the air as the Reaper moved, before it finally dissipated. But when he reached him?

Carnage.

The Sith Lord grabbed hold of the young man, by the upper body and head. He used the full force of his strength to press Gerwald's skull through the stone wall. Carefully he drove him through again, again, again, again, and again. Over a dozen times he walked him down the building to smash his head through the stone before he picked him up and put him clear through the wall.

[member="Gerwald Lechner"]

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Hubris was evident in every word which came from the Dark Lord. Prazetis thought he was confident he could make Gerwald suffer more than he had with the death of his best friend. Perhaps he was right, physically. There were levels of pain the mountain could make Gerwad experience that no one should ever have to know. He would feel it all before the day was over and Gerwald breathed his last. His mistake was assuming that Gerwald could suffer any more spiritually or emotionally than he already had. Did he know the meaning of the word suffering, absolutely he did. There was nothing new Gerwald could learn.

Pain. Shock.

Gerwald could feel the force collide with his armor, knocking the wind out him and sending him onto his back. The back of his head hit the ground, and before Gewald could orient the world around him a solid pressure was felt against his chest. The Mountain had pinned him down. One fist after another, with enough force to break the strongest of men, came down upon Gerwald. He managed to get his arms up, taking the brunt of the barrage. When it seemed the blows were down, Gerwald clawed at the leg with his hand, trying to force the boot off his chest.

Nothing.

Like a simple rag doll Gerwald was tossed aside and into the stone wall of nearby building. Had it not been for his armor, Gerwald would have been coughing up blood by now. His rib cage still intact, Gerwald tried to pull himself up onto his feet, but once again the Mountain moved with force and reflex of a man much smaller than he was in appearance. One strike after another, Gerwald counted each one, saw the skull of the wolf bashed into stone until finally his head drove clean through the wall.

Everything went limp. Gerwald was not just like a rag doll, to the Sith Lord, he was a rag doll.

Black.

Empty.

Void.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Darkness.

How much time had passed from the brutality of their short, one sided fight? Unknown. Gerwald would wake up to the absolute pain of a hammering headache, the feeling his arms caught in a vice grip, and being dragged by something so large that his own feet barely touched the ground. The rare glimpses he could achieve between the encroaching darkness would show him the Lord of Lies himself walking in the lead on some woodsy mountain trail. The Dark Titan walked with his hands clasped behind his back in the front with purpose, there was just the slightest hint of haste in his speed, he was still bare chested. The time had changed dramatically since he vacated the world of consciousness, it was just before dawn and enough light was passing down from the skies to paint the monstrous figures surrounding him. The glimpses of the figures dragging him?

The very first glance afforded they looked like gods. They were individuals who were so large, so massive they stood over even the imposing Shadow Hand eclipsing him by two feet. It was something about the armor they wore, how it fitted to their powerful bodies that made them seem more like animated statues that stepped off pedestals to serve. They wore a thick scarlet plate and their mass was such the earth reacted with agony after each thundering footfall. The two figures grasping him carried no weapons. There was a third man walking beside Darth Prazutis who held an arm out, and draped over it was a fully grown adult woman with brunette hair covering her face, she was motionless. The guard carried her over his arm as if she was a bath towel as they moved, a great shield was strapped to his back. A fourth walked off to the side carrying the others weapons in his hand. They said nothing.

The Imperial Crownguard.

They all walked with the same ever so slightly quickened pace without any sign of exhaustion, or hesitation. It was quite possible that they dragged him all night through the mountainous wilderness. It wouldn't be the first time that rumors of superhuman guards turned out to be true. Before his brain could even begin to finish shaking off the head trauma, the voice of the Sith Lord rang out almost on cue: "Welcome back Gerwald. Earlier than expected. Almost commendable for such a lowborn dog." He said as he was dragged up a rough, rocky slope. They ended up at the top of a flattened portion of rocky earth pressed high up against the wall of a mountain. It was an unnaturally smooth section of wall that had been pounded out. In the very center woven through the stone was a complex series of chains that gleamed in dawns morning light, runes could almost be visible on their wrought iron. The rocky stone around them was distinctly different for its ruby red sheen.

"I was taught about the weakness of trust through my experience here, what I experienced here exceeded anything you've gone through in your life. Welcome to the Bloody Plateau." He said pointing. The Crownguard reacted quickly the two carrying him towards the chains. The chains appeared to be made for someone far larger than Gerwald, but the cuffs seemingly shrunk when his arms were passed inside them, securing all four limbs to each thick chain. One of the other guards pulled on a lever and the chains pulled in four different directions, tightening and suspending him off the ground. It was only just now that the Lupine might realize he was no longer in his own armor. "The weakness of attachment. Mortals are instinctively drawn to such concepts you cannot be blamed for your weakness, most are born with it. Only a rare few of your number are provided the gift of being born without it. What you shall be blamed for is your willingness to stomach such weakness. A past had come back to haunt me. I wasn't as formidable then I was weaker... I was betrayed and brought here. The weakness was ripped out of me here. My place of learning will become your tomb.." The Shadow Hand said.

Danger.

There was a tremor in the force as the Sith Lord called upon the dark side of the force, it manifested into a crimson fog glowing over his hands. He pointed it towards the lupine and it shot out completely enveloping his entire body. As the crimson fog collided with skin it burned with a blinding fury, the human form was a canvas and underneath the malevolence of the conjured darkness? The entire sheet was consumed. In his pain, his splitting agony the Reaper of Souls reached out and leaned on his soul, his rapidly fleeting life force keeping him conscious. One of the crownguard dropped the woman in front of Gerwald then and as soon as the hair was parted from her face...[member="Naedira Darcrath"]. The Sith Lord tenderly wrapped a hand around her throat leaning in to inhale the Knight Obsidian's scent deeply. It looked, felt, and even smelled like Naedira, she was terrified. "I felt her bodies heat under my grip, I could feel the heart beat beneath her chest...before everything I smelt her scent..it was sweet, but laced with fear. You couldn't save her then..." He said as the towering giant effortlessly parted the head from her shoulders "And you couldn't save her now." A black smog emerged from her body and surged from her vitality towards Gerwald. It collided with the force of a freight train as the transfer of the deceased's vitality flooded into him. It was a form of healing but it was unnatural, painful, wrong. The pain of feeling every destroyed cell, every ripped bit of flesh as layer torn from layer reformed in a violent way. It was nauseating just how wrong, how blindingly painful it was to feel flesh force itself back together like the stitched patchwork, of a doctor's shoddy sew up job.

[member="Gerwald Lechner"]

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

“Credit for your thoughts?”

Her voice rang through the darkness of his mind. Suddenly Gerwald found himself overlooking the railing of the ballroom where they had last spent some semblance of free time simply being who they were. [member="Naedira Darcrath"] had been stunning as always in the champagne number she had chosen for herself, and as the music and commotion from dancefloor rose to his ears, Gerwald remembered everything about that night.

Regret. Guilt.

He had not been there for her on Eshan.

Yet he felt other things as well.

Happiness. Peace. Fulfillment.

She had a magic about her which Gerwald knew was beyond anything he had experienced before. Perhaps she had known his feelings because of their bond, yet they were still good friends. A fruity drink had been offered, though Gerwald had hated it. Naedira always knew when to press and when to leave him be. He had loved that about her, appreciated it. His life had been complicated, and everyone had an opinion of what he had done wrong. Nae simply let him be. She never judged, only offered her advice on what he should not do again. Gerwald found he could not disagree.

That was the night he knew for certain, yet that was the night he also sensed there might have been another.

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Gerwald caught flashes as he passed in and out of the black unconscious state he had been in. They were not enough to ever tell anyone where he had been taken. All Gerwald knew was that he was no longer at the place he met the wicked mountain.

More darkness, more cold.

He woke with a startle, chained and bare. Part of him wanted to shift to see if the chains would give way, but something inside him told him not to. His eyes settled on his captor. Gerwald knew he was going to die, and all he could think was that he had disappointed [member="Alkor Centaris"], and certainly had Naedira been alive she would have shamed him as well. Granted, Gerwald knew he would not be here had the woman been alive, but regardless, Gerwald knew his foolishness.

The Sith Lord spoke, but Gerwald was too hurt and too concussed to make any sense of what was being said. Gerwald could feel however, and the pain which radiated from every fiber of his being as he felt every rip and tear forced a scream from Gerwald which was guttural and unnatural. Eyes rest on the brunette, it was Naedira, but it was not. The bond it was still missing, and as much as Prazutis wanted to play, he had not factored in their bond. Still, the sight hurt, reminded Gerwald there was nothing he could have done to have saved her.

He pushed a few words out. They were not many, but true and profound.

"I could have died for her..."

His speech was broken by pain and weariness.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Gerwald began to scream once more. As the the darkness of the force creeped across his muscle, the Lupine could feel his skin knitting itself back together as though it were being stitched back on piece by piece. It was more painful than losing it. The wolf of a man breathed shallow, labored breaths hoping it would help him to get through it all, but nothing made the pain stop. Even after the skin was whole once more the pain remained. Whether it was real or phantom, it did not matter. Gerwald Lechner was on the brink of what anyone could take and survive.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

As the lupine screamed in pain, writhed in agony the Shadow Hand watched closely with every contortion. It was difficult to tell if he was even enjoying the endeavor, at first glance he appeared disinterested but that was betrayed by the careful thought into each torturous touch. It was impossible to tell which was the truth "You will die for nothing, no one. You've lived your life like a dog worthless, toothless fumbling around in a darkness you hardly understand just like her. A field mouse who thinks himself a lion. You are nothing in my world. You live because individuals like myself have allowed you to live. You live by the grace of our will, and you will die if it is demanded that you do so. I will take everything from you before the end" He said as his gaze shifted onto the four guards, each standing by one of the reinforced points where the four chains spreading his limbs apart were. He made a small gesture towards the trapped lupine and said a single word in an another language, a single order.

"Pyss."

The Crownguard each released the locks holding the chains in place and grabbed hold with their titanic strength. Each of the ten foot titans took slow, thundering stomps back at a steady pace as they pulled on the chains wrapped around each limb. As it went tight they kept pulling until they separated. They pulled until the lupine was entirely quartered. Yet he was still alive...he didn't fall, his form floated in the air in parts. A malevolent presence kept him alive and cognizant of everything. As soon as they fully separated each limb was shocked with blasts of lightning to cause agony to flood the delicate nerves. As soon as the lightning faded a dark cloud formed between each as the Lord of Lies slowly, stiched him back together with a purposefully crude hand. Just when they were pierced together the Great Destroyer raised a hand and intently focused on the young man. He focused on every bone inside his body and began to use telekinesis to snap them again, again, again, and again. Into one, ten, twenty, thirty, a hundred pieces. The pieces were broken into pieces, and cuts were torn along the arterial passages to more efficiently bleed him.

Just then when he thought he earned a reprieve, a moment of relief amidst unspeakable agony the Shadow Hand's hands glowed with baleful fire his eyes burning intently into Gerwalds own. He heard the mans voice ring out through his mind like a bells toll, just before the tsunami hit his mind. "There is nowhere you cannot protect from me."

[member="Gerwald Lechner"] ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

He liked the sound of his own voice far too much. This mountain of a man that had killed Naedira, and now boastfully proclaimed Gerwald had lived his life as a dog, could not seem to get on with what he intended to do. Gerwald knew his life was forfeit at this point. How many times did the Sith need to announce it? The sweet release of death was something Gerwald knew would only come when the Sith was ready to allow it to happen, and until then, Gerwald would put up with the pain and the torture. How he deserved to suffer so. With all of the people who had been hurt because of his choices and decisions, Gerwald was resigned to the fact this was his penance for it all. Even the death of [member="Naedira Darcrath"] was his punishment for destroying the heart of another. [member="Alwine Lechner"] was going to be pissed if she was not already, but at least he could sympathize with her suffering at the hands of those that had kept her caged. Everything he now felt was a result of every pain he caused others, so Gerwald gladly took it.

“Take breath so you can figure it out for yourself. Don’t let guilt or obligation steer you. Don’t let the pain of someone else become your own.”

Her voice was in his head again. As Gerwald overlooked the balcony, and had turned to Naedira to listen to what she had to say, he knew she was right. Yet here he was having done exactly what she had told him not to do. Guilt had moved him once again, and this time to his death. It was his own pain he carried however. His mind was wrought with grief and hurt, filled with revenge, and it had clouded his judgement. Gerwald would die, but at least he would be reunited with the one person he could honestly say he loved, not because of curiosity, intrigue, or some sense of playfulness. It was the first love borne out of time. It was not something Gerwald had gone looking for, in fact he had been avoiding all matters of love at the time, and yet Gerwald knew he loved his best friend. Death would be reward, it would be a prize.

He screamed even louder as he felt flesh and bone tear. Once again he was stitched together, only to be broken again and again. The more the man spoke to Gerwald the more something broke until finally there was a sharp pain inside and the distinct sensation of bleeding. Gerwald could barely breathe. There was no more screaming, no more moving. Everything was going black, and Gerwald could do nothing to save himself.

Suddenly his eyes grew wide at the sound of the dark voice in his head and sight of fire.

Death was coming, and Gerwald would welcome it.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The cold embrace of the great beyond was a subtle thing.

It started out through a low buzz that developed into a deafening roar of a swarm of buzzing carrion that grew increasingly louder and louder in his mind with each and every passing moment lost to the sands of time. A maddening, rhythmic flute playing without end ripping and tearing away at his sanity, a painful, disturbing noise without end. It brought pain so great it cut through the ears like long knives, pressing on the Lupine's cranium. The whispers spoke sick, vomit inducing thoughts and whispers into his mind without end as hundreds, thousands of voices that just, wouldn't, stop. The building buzz, disturbing whispers grew louder and more frequent. It flashed sickening visions as the man's memories were picked apart by ten thousand reaching hands, the presence of an entity far beyond this reality, an entity standing before him.

Uthax'ra the Staving Hollow for he is the death that awaits all things. Cruel indifference, raw power. An entity able to feel the pulse of life in the galaxy and everything in it. A being who holds deception like the beating heart inside ones own chest. A being that violates the boundaries of natural law and brings the galaxy one step closer to the Abhorrent Feast, the inevitable unraveling. Gerwald had no idea that which he faced yet it took hold of his mind and parsed through it, draining his memories and manifesting horrific nightmare visages as his iron grip closed around. As if he held the lupine in the palm of his hand the being poked, prodded and squeezed to cause sheer mental anguish. The creatures of this galaxy were not meant to feel the touch of the great beyond, to feel its corruptive embrace and it changed those who experienced it, they were typically never the same after, some completely lost all depending on the extent of their exposure. It was something mortals, even those experienced in mental ability simply could not comprehend. But the pain it unleashed was very real.


Through it all he could see this Mountain, this Dark Titan as he gestured with one hand and the long cuts on his neck and arms, over the sliced veins sealed shut. As his hands glowed with black fire they thrusted forward and gouts of flame struck the hanging beings feet. The fire snaked up from one side of his form to the other, the power of the dark side once again grabbing hold keeping the lupine alive as the dark fire burned. But it wasn't just any experience. The maddening embrace of the great beyond brought a form of temporary super awareness of his own body and Gerwald felt very skin cell, every muscle, he felt every ounce of his entire body as he was being burned alive. All the while echoing laughter of countless voices rang out as the entity watched his pain.

But then something happened.

The Lord of Lies crushed the mind in his grasp.

Every memory, every ounce of knowledge, understanding, every face, belief right down to his own socialization his nature and nurture as a young child was scrambled along with his own sanity, a mind obliterated. To be a prisoner in mind, body and soul, to have such a Sith Lord lean on ones own soul, to lay claim to what is deepest inside. It mattered not for the whims and wills of others, Gerwald would always be tied to the being who claimed dominion over this world, his full humiliation realized as consciousness might've waned. The Crownguard let the chains loose and his charred, smoking, hairless form hit the ground with a thud, like a falling crate. One of the guards approached and threw the lupine over his shoulder.

The Sith Lord was on the move.

Already he punched a series of buttons on his communicator signaling Crownguard to fly the lupines ship far enough from the remote town so as to not arouse suspicion. It's transponder had long been turned off since their initial encounter, all but assuring he vanished from scanning sight. The Midnight had already dropped into a clearing close to their position, which he started to make his way to.

[member="Gerwald Lechner"]

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Fire. Pain. Longing.

These were the three constants which pulled at Gerwald's senses. The fire burned. His flesh burned. His broken bones burned. His mind burned. Pain followed, each wave more silencing than the next. Gerwald opened his mouth to scream over and over, but no sound came from him any longer. The pain was too strong, and his mind was overly bombarded with nightmare after nightmare. Every thought and memory of Naedira was somehow wrong. Each one was manipulated and changed. He knew they were wrong, but there was nothing he could do to change it. Gerwald would have begged had his voice worked. HIs only hope now was that the mountain of a Sith Lord would be merciful and end his life quickly.

Longing.

As much as Gerwald wished for death to take him, it did not. The monster left him on the brink of death, led him there, only to heal him just enough to remain among the living. Curses coursed through Gerwald's broken mind to no avail. Not even the mental barriers Naedira had taught him to erect could keep his mind safe now.

They were moving. Something was happening.

Gerwald could not tell where he was, nor would he ever recount what happened. His body broken and his organs bleeding internally had left the massive wolf nothing but a shell, broken and useless. He was garbage, and as Crown Guard and the Mountain flew over the place where Gerwald's ship had been moved, the Lupine was tossed out of the flying vessel as such. The fall was quick, and the impact severe. The only saving factor was Gerwald was already so broken there was not much more damage which could be done save for the bruising of vital organs and the collapsing of his lungs. Laying on the ground, staring at the sky, Gerwald struggled to take each breath.

Why he was alive and left abandoned to die, Gerwald did not know. Gerwald no longer knew anything. The wolf of a man was broken in every way possible, and if he did not receive help soon, Gerwald would take his final breath, the latest victim of [member="Darth Prazutis"].

Spoiler

[member="Srina Talon"] just in case you are watching