Oath | Alkah'Kahtel

[Malok]

T A I V A S​

A Time to Reflect.

It was not often that Darth Metus had time to himself. More often than not, his attention was tugged twelve different directions all at once. But for just a few hours, all would be silent. There would be no notifications ringing within his helmet, nor urgent communications laid upon his desk. He had, for just this small slice of time, closed all but one door to his life. His Bond - the perpetual link of thought and emotion - remained ever constant with [member="Srina Talon"]. His Apprentice would know, more than anyone, that her Master needed a little time to decompress. So much had happened over the course of the past months...but there was one event that had yet to leave his mind.

Haseria.

The visions he had seen yet plagued his dreams - and for many evenings he had come to lay by her side. Her assurances made the demons flee. Her confidence allowed the troubled man to rest, if only for a moment. And while he had taken great strides to prevent a full descent into Darkness - going so far as to revive the old Knights Obsidian - there yet lingered a seed of doubt. Would he cross the line? What would happen if Srina were not there to keep the Abyss in check? Yet for just this afternoon, Darth Metus would try to work past his lingering doubts. He would try to calm and quiet himself.

And so he flew, alone.

As he did in his youth, Darth Metus sliced through the air - propelled by the thrust of his trusty jetpack. His arms remained pressed to his sides as he cut through the graveyard of ancient ships, turning and corkscrewing through the labyrinth with ease. There was no true destination in mind...that is, until the gleam of matrix armor against the Sun's light caught his attention. A Stark contrast to the orange rust that caked the hulls around him: the wing of a TIE fighter jutted out from the innards of a Destroyer. The Sith descended, hovering above the wreckage with intrigue. Compared to the rest of the ruins, the wing seemed newer than its surrounding - but was clearly old at the same time.

Yet, what was all the more...intriguing...was the pull. As he hovered above the wreckage, he felt a whisper within the rear of his mind. Temptation rippled through his veins. The ruined Destroyer was becoming an open flame...and he, a moth. The Sith was perceptive enough to know the presence of the Dark Side when he felt it. It already characterized his daily walk, but this...this was something long forgotten. This was something that the Hidden Jedi Temple and all its pilgrims had camoflauged simply by being so Light. Srina... he whispered, allowing his words to ebb and flow through their Bond. If I am not back in three hours...Find me.

His engines lulled to a hush.

Descent gripped his armored form until his boots crunched down upon ancient Durasteel. Before him laid...a chasm, torn directly into the vessel's hull. But what he felt emanating from within were not electrical systems or the remains of Imperial technology. No. All he felt was temptation. All he felt was a pull to step forward. And so he did. With lightsaber in hand, Darth Metus breached the old Destroyer.

But he was not the first.

But he was not alone.

[member="Alkah'Kahtel"]

 

[Raiz]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9egQyLpEyI[/media]​

​

-​

​

Ruins of the past. Something that could very much title both the gen'dai, his armament, and the surroundings in which he has now come to call 'home'. However no matter how long he spent upon the Imperial Star Destroyer, it never resignated with him or gave him comfort, for it was simply a reminder of an old enemy in different clothing and under a new banner. Alkah'Kahtel knew that what he was doing is prolonging a need he had always had, procrastinating the want to find purpose, but where was his purpose anymore? It had been years since he had someone to call af riend, centuries since he had a group to call his own, and much longer since he had a place to call home. A depressing thought perhaps, even more depressing was the ever looming lonliness which surrounded him on the daily, and nightly, however it seemed that ever so slowly the universe wished to give him a positive and seemed to gift the aged monster with a voice which rings in the back of his head, never malicious but never helpful, the purest of evils the universe could give to a near immortal being.

Death comes.

"Yes, it probably does."

Slowly, for nearing the hundredth time and seemingly on clockwork, the large being begins skulking around the large destroyer and for the most part begins rejoining the monogomy which was the daily routine that one always slips into when given enough time. However it seemed things were different this time around, for it seemed that the piercing silence began to break if only for the slightest of moments and as it returned, the gen'dai let out a laughter which gave off the idea that he was pushing forth an illusion of madness, an illusion that even he himself was questioning if it was truly an illusion or simply the truth of the matter. Either way, the sounds of laughter from Alkah'Kahtel would echo throughout varying corridors of the long-dead destroyer. Either the monster was lonesome and was begging for a chance to interact for another, or the thought of meeting another life-form broke his ideal get-away, or perhaps it was a mixture of both, whichever the case it seemed that the beast was lonesome no more.

-​

​

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Srina Talon"]​

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Zhar System, Taivas [Orbit]
Tags: [member="Alkah'Kahtel"] | [member="Darth Metus"]

Not far away the young Echani apprentice remained vigilant within the safety of the Ferocity. The ship that her Master had bequeathed to her was among her favorite places to be, aside from the home they had made, on Ryloth. The assault frigate had an echo of memories that soothed her, and more weaponry, than most ships of that size, could boast. It was safe. As safe as being in a ship, in space, could be. Droids chattered about this and that while Srina monitored the Confederacy from the starships command throne. When the Vicelord was unable—she stepped in. He needed her help, more often than not, and she gave it freely.

A familiar mind touched her own, speak of the devil, and she paused in flipping through reports. ‘Master…’, she responded mentally, his whispered words giving cause for concern. There was very little the Sith Lord could not handle on his own. If there was a chance that he required her assistance, should she not be there now, versus later? ‘I am waiting in the Ferocity just outside the exosphere. Please be aware…The clock is ticking.’

The pale woman felt that she had spent too much time idling in the Zhar System as of late. The recently discovered Jedi Temple had caused quite a stir. The Confederacy had secured it, easily enough, from the general riffraff and everyday scavengers but there were other forces that wished for the secrets it held. Some of the foundations had been destroyed, some of the data had been lost, but it still stood strong. The presence on Taivas was like nothing she had ever felt.

Ghostly hollows. Echoes of life that existed no longer. Light. Such strange, quiet, remnants of broken light.

As it stood, Srina hoped, that [member="Darth Metus"] did not require her assistance. The small apprentice seemed gentle, soft, in all things—but it was an illusion. She would gladly crack the planet apart, sacred or not, if his life depended on it. She would not hesitate. Hidden compassion, attachments, and fierce protectiveness were her weaknesses. She knew it. Her Master knew it. And so did the Dark Side.

Her sensitivity to the Force was intense. Especially after Tatooine. It took her breath away, stifled the rest of her abilities, and left her only with a startling tether to the comic energy that bound them all. It was sharp and precise. Almost to the point of pain. A vision came and went. Flashes of images that she could not entirely follow, but knew, that they held importance.

‘You are not alone.’

It was up to the Vicelord of the Confederacy to decide what that meant.

 

[Malok]

His footsteps crunched upon shattered steel.

As the Sith Lord braved the abyss, the dark temptation took form. Where once there was a wordless, soundless, tug upon the core of his being...now there were whispers. As quiet as a jesting child, syllables twisted at the very edge of his psyche. Darth Metus found himself squinting from behind his visor in a vain attempt to discern their meeting; and yet pressed forward.

And though the Darkness yet opened its maw, as if to invite him into its depths, there was a candle in his grasp. Its light pierced the shadow which tugged at his mind - if only for a moment - and sent the whispers fleeing. Her words, affirmation that she was right there despite being miles above...they steeled the Sith more than anything else in creation. I can always count on you. he admitted - and that was the utmost Truth. Never once in her time as his Apprentice had she ever failed him. Ever fallen short. Ever done anything but be exactly what he needed at any given moment. His sword, his friend, his confidante, his successor.

And now, she was his Guardian in the Sky.

Laughter.

A bitter cold raced down the Sith's spine as the sound echoed off of the centuries' old hull. This was no trick of the Dark Side - the receptors within his helm said as much. Blinking, he directed his HUD to scan for anything remotely alive - thermal and life form sensors soon played before his sulfuric gaze. Something...Big. Instinctively, the Sith plucked his saber from his belt and held the weapon aloft, not yet revealing his position by bringing the blade to life. Rather, he opted to act with caution and outstretched his offhand, commanding the Force with ease.

Metal whined against his telekinetic grasp.

Tubing upon the corridor's wall - the very same within which both He and the Gen'Dai tread - burst.

Centuries' old vapor exploded forth as steam, wildly filling the space between the them. And in this cloying cover did the Sith move, lowering himself to a half-crouch as he drew near.

"Who are you?"​

To the eyes of the Gen'Dai it would appear as though the steam itself were demanding to know.