The Blades of Rhun (Ask to Join)

[Tanith Alde]

The Blades of Rhun are a quintumvirate of legendary sith swords wielded by the highest ranking members of the Inner Council of the Lords of Rhun. According to the old lores, The Blades of Rhun were all carved from a single block of Dark Iron that struck the Shadow Hall, The Citadel of Rhun. Each of these blades was carried by a Swordsmaster, Or Lords of Rhun. It is as potent a symbol of Authority, as it was a deadly weapon. All together, there are five blades, and this is their story.

 

[Tanith Alde]

The First, and most potent of these blades, Is the Sword of Secrets. The Sword of Secrets is the mightiest of the Blades of Rhun, and is wielded by Valentinian, the next heir to the crown of Rhun. It's blade is so incredibly well crafted, that it has not chipped, nor lost It's razor-sharp edge over it's Millenia of bloody use. Only the heir apparent knows that it is also a device that allows access to the deepest known dungeon in the Shadow Hall. Fitting the blade into a cleft in the wall unlocks the Iron gate leading down a dark tunnel to the rune protected cell in which the old sith alchemist, Sandarius lays imprisoned. There, he is carefully motioned and contained, the greatest secret of the family of Alexandrus. Kept there for his uses as a weapon smith and alchemist, he is forced to forge weapons and armor of great power for the ruling family, to keep them in power perpetually

 

[Tanith Alde]

Which was where Valentinian was heading now. Sick. He always felt sick whenever he entered ‘the hive’. A long catwalk suspended in the middle of a cavernous hexagonal hall, the putrid green glow of endless status monitors and stasis tubes radiated an aura of death and decay. Not so unfitting for the legendary storage vaults of the SIth Alchemist. Despite his many trips there , he could never suppress the shiver in his spine that always snuck up on him when he least expected it. Shaking off his unease, he moved slowly to the monitor station to finish the rites of release. He stared up into that ancient face, suspended in a foetal position within its fluid tomb. The irony was not lost on him. A skeletal, barely human husk gazed vacantly back at him, continually twitching despite being comatose.

 

[Tanith Alde]

A hacking, water filled cough escaped the ancient's form as he spat out water, falling to the floor. Slowly, he regained his feet, and stood up. No one knew how truly ancient the man was, only the powers he held in his now frail hands. He was ancient enough that the house could only risk to release him for hours at a time, lest he prematurely expire. "You, have come to me with a request?" His voice spoke of old times, forgotten lores, and great powers. His hands were chained with great, dark iron bindings, preventing him from moving too far from his small workshop. "That I have. The crown requires a new blade be forged, or rather, a very old one reforged" He turned over the blade in his hand, presenting it to the man "Reforge this blade, with your Sith Alchemy, that it might stand against saber, weather Jedi, or Sith, in origin"

 

[Tanith Alde]

"You know not with what forces you bandy, my young prince" The ancient sith delcared, as he took the sword from him and layed it upon a table made of azure stones. Around it seemed to be the focus of the room, that and the ancient sith himself of course. "I know what I do. I do my duty, and you would do well to remember yours" The prince chaztised, glancing about the dim room, as if searching for something. A presence, he felt something nearby, but he couldnt say quite what it was