Attn: [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"]
Aboard the SRN Invictus, several days ago
They had dragged him onto the ship with a gaping hole torn through the middle of his very being, a wicked wound carved into his very soul. He was a dieing man, who's last few moments of existence, were defined by constant pain, at least when he managed to crawl his way out of the dreamless abyss that was the lack of consciousness, until he fell into the cold embrace of Lady Death.
Like many others, this was a possibility that had been anticipated and planned for accordingly. Down in one of the many cargo holds of the massive warship, the highest-ranked, most experienced Wardens were executing prisoners, Jedi that were captured during the conquest of Nibelungen what now seemed like ages ago, kept alive for this very purpose.
With knowledge gathered from the looted Library of Lorrd, combined with bits and pieces of information from various sources and the collective knowledge on Sith sorcery and necromancy that the Wardens had been able to muster, a ritual had been improvised, in order to bring their leader back from the dead.
The sacrifice of the prisoners was the first part of this ritual. Their souls, their lives, their very essence was channeled into the Netherworld, calling forth that which now resided there, reshaping it, rebuilding it back into something resembling a human being. Its - his - first breath was followed by a scream of pain and rage, as the unnatural, cold currents of the Darkside seeped into the heart of his being, warping him, changing him into the form that was required to keep him alive.
- Golbah City
Private medical facility, present day
The building was a large, secluded mansion that had been turned into a private medical facility destined for a single occupant who's identity was kept out of the public eye and any public records. For all intents and purposes, as far as the public was concerned, the mansion was just the vacation retreat of some random millionaire who owned property all over the galaxy.
It was the first time since the new owner's arrival, that a guest was allowed inside. His recovery had been slow and difficult, as the man who ruled the Shrouded Republic was forced to adapt and learn to cope with the changes that his body had suffered as a result of the ritual which brought him back from beyond the veil.
Where once there was a man, now stood something else. His skin had lost some of its color, the scars becoming more accented and prominent and his hair, now flowing down to his shoulders, had turned a silver, metallic color which gleamed unnaturally in the light. But it was his eyes that were the most striking change. His once blue eyes, were now golden, glowing with an inner light, with slitted pupils, like the eyes of a cat, or a viper. And his hands ended in sharp, deadly-looking talons that could tear men apart. Where there was once a man, now stood something that was part human and part... something else. Some part of the Netherworld that had latched onto him and had been carried back through. He had become something frightening, deadlier than ever before.
His reflexes were faster and his senses were much sharper than ever before. His eyes could now see colors which he had no words to describe. And he now struggled against a constant impulse to hunt, to kill, to inflict pain and death upon others. It was merely a part of the price he had to pay.
Pain defined much of his existence, now. Pain and the ever-present cold of the Netherworld, which seemed to have seeped into his very bones, but he was no stranger to pain and cold and his iron will had brought his killer impulse under control. Most of the time.
The first of the two visitors to be allowed into the residence, were someone he considered a friend. One of the few people in the galaxy, whom he truly trusted and with whom he shared a bond that could only be forged between warriors, on the field of battle, against an overwhelming foe. The second was her master, a man whom he respected and valued as an ally. They would be the first from the outside the Shrouded Republic to see what he had become and aside from her and her master, very few would know his true identity for some time to come. He had not yet recovered fully, but the time to rest was over. There was work to be done and Darth Tacitus was not one who would let something as trivial as death, to keep him away from it.