Summons

[Darth Prazutis]

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Ancient Sith Temple, Athiss
[member="Darth Nakhash"]….

Summoned.

The emissary was cryptic in his words when he arrived seemingly out of nowhere, right on the doorstep of the Sith Pureblood. If it weren't for the unmistakable symbol that the man carried as identification, it might've been far more suspect, had it been anyone else. The Eye of Solomon sigil of the House Zambrano, ruling Sith Dynasty of the Sith Empire. It was known far and wide for just who the symbol represented. Above all it represented the Sith Emperor [member="Darth Carnifex"], and Shadow Hand Darth Prazutis. The Sith-Imperial Throne had its eyes on Nakhash and they summoned him the site of an ancient temple, deep into the scorching desert on Athiss's surface. Very little could survive out in such an inhospitable place especially in this time, yet...there was no mistaking it, it was exactly the place he was called to.

The presence.

A swirling maelstrom, a storm of black power everlasting swirled deep within the ancient, dilapidated ruin. It was active, churning like the waves of the ocean, it was both smothering and euphoric. As the man entered the halls the very darkness seemed to come alive with this abominable presence, it congealed like spilt blood, it shuttered and heaved like a great wet lung. All the while one couldn't shake the feeling that something watched them, like the feeling of a thousand eyes drinking in the sight of the crimson hued figure who moved through. In the courtyard a central square was exposed to the scorching sun, a single altar pushed to the far side. Once one stood in the lit square the darkness seemed to crash against the rows of columns, visibility closing. A single wicked sith dagger, with a gold pommel sat on the altar. The very act of looking upon it caused words to appear along the blade in the young mans native tongue.

Sacrifice.

"Something that matters, that is loved. There is a price to power that must be paid, a tithe to the abyss to achieve greatness. Those who cannot pay, will always kneel before the wills of stronger men. Those who do? They will always be remembered..." A deep, baritone voice boomed. It had an unnatural, otherworldly hypnotic lull to it. It was as if the voice rolled off a silver tongue it was laced with honeyed poison, speaking cryptic words...

Silence.

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[Darth Nakhash]

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

Nakhash had been skeptical of the emissary, indeed. The pureblood had received the Eye of Solomon, one of the many heraldic symbols of the Imperial Family. But that was the thing about symbols and an order of summons. They were easily falsified. Yet, it was a double-edged sword. If it was undoubtedly false, that means someone was laying a trap for him. On the other hand, not responding to the summons of the Emperor or his Shadow Hand was risking an accusation of treason. Either way, it was not to be ignored.

Taking note of the coordinates, Nakhash readied a shuttle. He took his ancestral sword, its archaic and arcane power ebbing and flowing in the dark side. He also brought his red-feathered pet, the raven he named Malgus. The creature would, if anything, make for a good alert system for its master. With that, he rounded up a shuttlecraft and set a path towards the coordinates he was given.

Even in an advanced shuttle, traveling across Athiss' desert was not a simple task. Heat could encumber the electronics, the sand obscured the vision when the searing winds stirred it up. It took some time before he found what he was looking for. An ancient temple, dating back to a time when his ancestors were numerous and had the Galaxy in terror. He disembarked the shuttle and went inside, unsheathing his sword at his hip. Malgus flew from his shoulder, crowing at something hidden in the darkness. The red bird circled around the chamber as its master neared the sunlit pillar of light.

It was then he heard the voice. A tempting speaker offering power at the cost of a sacrifice of something precious. On the altar was a dagger repeating the same request of sacrifice, written in the hoary glyphs of his peoples' language. The Red Sith picked up the dagger, pondering what exactly could satiate such an appetite for sacrifice. Then it came to him...

He recalled his pet to him. The red-plumed raven flew down, roosting on the altar by its master's side. Nakhash gently petted the top of the avian's head, giving a small smile.

"I'm truly sorry, my friend." He addressed his pet, "But, my quest for knowledge shan't be impeded."

He quickly grabbed the bird by its throat. Panicked squawking and flapping was soon silenced by a sickening, visceral pierce. Blood soon drenched the stone of the altar as the bird laid splayed out, pinned by the dagger through its heart, like some sanguine symbol of sacrifice to the dark side. Nakhash stood before the altar, silently awaiting a response.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Blood.

It pooled from the slain, faintly twitching bird as it soaked into the age old altar. The blood flowed into every crack and crevace staining the ancient stone with sanguine paint. For what felt like an eternity there was a stark silence, the silence as death set in. It felt like it was so quiet one could hear the blood flowing from the altar. But then? There was a surge, a sudden rush of the dark carrying with it a cold wind. It was brief, But that was all it took and suddenly he was there. It was a smothing presence, an odd feeling like being drowned beneath the waves as the primordial creature known as the Lord of Lies suddenly appeared. But by all appearances he looked...different than one might expect. Instead of lavish robes lined with runes, heavy battle plate, the giant was clad in simple attire. A pair of black military esque cargo pants covering a pair of combat boots. A sleeveless shirt of similar color covered the Mountain's massive, muscular, scar lined, tattoo covered torso. It was a form that looked as if it was chiseled from some sort of stone, impossibly perfect, right down to the short cut black hair, and the pair of molten orbs where his eyes should be. Despite the scorching heat of Athiss's desert it appeared as if the Shadow Hand was absolutely comfortable, as if he had been used to comparable or even worse temperatures before.

"Satisfactory. Every journey begins with but a single step. The path of power is fraught with pitfalls, you will sacrifice so much more before you reach your full potential." He said pacing one way, then the other while his eyes remained locked on the young man.

"I see your futures child, I see every individual pathway, every diversion, every end. I see you. You are strong, stronger than most at your stages of training. But your past prepared you for it, the dark side flows in your very blood." The Shadow Hand said as he stopped.

"I have called and you have come uncertainty or not, good. You have become something of note, but what I can teach you? Your very name will be enough to make worlds tremble. You need only listen."

[member="Darth Nakhash"]

 

[Darth Nakhash]

[member="Darth Prazutis"]​

As soon as Nakhash saw the gigantic form step from the shadows, the red-skinned Sith gave a respectful bow to the....entity before him. The Shadow Hand of the Emperor. Braxus Zambrano himself, more or less in the flesh. "You must forgive that uncertainty, my lord." The Pureblood replied to the Master before him, "Treachery and deception have been the art of the Sith since before the Exiles came to Korriban. One mustn't be too lax in their judgement." He kept his own eyes of gold upon the goliath of a man that was presented before him.

"I am most honored, my lord, that you consider my prowess worthy of your tutelage." He said with a small smirk, "You give the House of Kaelish a great compliment."

The Pureblood turned away from the altar to face the titanic lord of the Sith more directly. He stared a moment before unsheathing his sword. Rather than seeming to prepare for an attack, Nakhash instead plunged the blade into the ground and kneeled to the Shadow Hand.

"Lord Prazutis...I accept your offer. Speak your wisdom, and I shall listen." He said, seeming to almost make an oath to the elder Sith before him, "For if anyone, it is your font of knowledge that I seek to drink from. To become more powerful than this mere sight before you."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Good.

A student with an open mind, the drive to succeed and the willingness to pay any price in the pursuits of power. Everything was needed when unlocking the mysteries of the dark side. "The beginning of your lesson begins with the opening of your eyes Nakhash. Open your eyes to the world around you. We are a select breed, a cut above the unwashed masses. The way of life, natural law, the boundaries of reality aren't fixed for those with the strength to press their will over it.." The Shadow Hand said as his hands spread out wide towards the dilipidated columns, and crumbled monument to the ancient sith. A black speech uttered from his lips, a surge of power as the entire room around them suddenly shifted. Through force of will reality bent around the Sith Lord as cracks in the stone columns sealed shut. The color of old age faded and in one fell swoop he breathed life into the central square, just as it had been when it was first constructed.

"Come." Darth Prazutis said, walking deeper into the temple. There was a sudden shift as a pair of doors that looked like part of the walls opened up to a long, narrow hall. The floors were covered in large square tiles that seemed oddly untouched by the hand of mother nature. The tiles were a distinctly different color from the reddish stone that comprised the rest of the structure, they were white, and many of them bore different runes, swirls, and other archaic symbols. There were four alcoves parallel to one another lining either side of the hallway, each bearing a grand statue, monuments to the ancient deities of the Sith, and a pair of banners whose images were lost to time flanking the massive set of double doors at the end of the hall.

"I have chosen this location for a purpose. There is an artifact locked away in the center of this temple, something I need. You will get it for me...and I will evaluate your progress."

[member="Darth Nakhash"] ​

 

[Darth Nakhash]

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

Nakhash listened as his new master laid the task before him. As soon as the quest was assigned, the Pureblood nodded and stood up from his kneeling. He unsheathed his sword. He turned to the behemoth of a man.

"Very well, my lord. I shall retrieve this artifact. To prove my worthiness to be the Shadow Hand's apprentice." He said before travelling deeper into the temple.

Soon enough, he was met with darkness. With his free hand, he summoned fire from the Force, making a makeshift torch from an ethereal ball of flame. Light danced off of the temple walls. Hieroglyphs strewn about, a language that he recognized. The Old Tongue of his people. He felt almost at home. He had such pride in what his ancestors were able to accomplish. He swore he could almost hear the voices of the past call to him from the netherworld.

Yet, he blocked such notions from his mind. While the Red Sith may have built this temple, he knew all to well how the way of treachery and deception were the way of his people. Temples like this were usually laid with traps that assailed the mind and soul of tresspassers. Additionally, he knew Lord Prazutis watched him now, and that as his potential master, would use any means of trickery to test the young red-hued man.

He pushed forward, wary of his senses and surround. Once more, the great game of dejarik had its pieces set up, and he would have to move wisely...