Private The Cabalist's Ascendance

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Sometime After The Network's Invasion​

The room chosen for Telis Taharin's ascendance beyond apprenticeship was lavish, to say the least. While the owner and designer of the room, Kascalion Giedfield, was not one for such terms and actual design choices, the young man had more than earned the appropriate ceremony for the occasion. He had more than earned it. As such, the Devil Lion of the Sith had chosen only the best of furniture and appliances for the former throne room of a long-abandoned Dromund Kaas temple and watched the entrance doorway eager and excited, his facade failing to contain the joyful, uncharacteristic emotions.

Bulky braziers encompassed each of the eight soapstone columns and lit up the lower levels of the hall in warm yellows and flickering oranges. The intricate golden patterns on the reconstructed domed ceiling danced in the flickering light while refurbished statuettes and statues looked down upon the slate floor with calm eyes and frowned lips. A verdigris rug split part of the room in half from the throne to midway down the hall while pennant banners and flags of the Empire with burnished sigils swung gently from the walls. Between each banner stood a tall candle, all of them having been lit and illuminating Kascalion's donated artistic depictions of conquerors and victors below them.

Wide, stained glass windows depicting gods and goddesses of unknown origin, drawn by the Devil Lion himself during a month-long fugue state, were bordered by drapes colored the same verdigris as the banners; the curtains had also been adorned with burnished corners and gilded linings. A ceremonious throne of black stone sat at the center of a small platform and was adjoined by six equally impressive seats for those aiding their lord in all affairs. Each of the seven thrones had been covered in layered inscriptions and fixed on each of the rear legs was a lavish crescent moon.

On this occasion, the six that joined the Lord of Ash were his wife Hel Kai'dent; the head Draal servant who had been alchemized to become more Sith Spawn than Draal; his clone-son Reva Nihilus; and the majors who lead his Legion's top three battalions, having been educated extensively in Sith culture enough to understand and appreciate the events transpiring before them.

"Father, must we do this?" Reva suddenly inquired with a yawn, drawing all eyes upon him. "This is entirely drab and unnecessary. Just give him the title and be done with it."

The Devil Lion's eyes furrowed to slits, the beams of gold now thin rays upon his son, "You are my son, Reva. Though you may not be Sith, by my own choice, you are to learn and appreciate the 'meanderings' that you have so long disrespected."

Reva sighed heavily and clasped his gloved hands together, "Yes, yes, yes. Respect the traditions of the practices I cannot even perform. Valuable instructions, father.."

Hel chuckled darkly, her eyes flashing with momentary irritation as she leaned forward to meet his gaze directly, "You are just insufferable, Reva. How is it that you have survived this long?"

The Clone Echo shrugged and leaned back in his seat, hands moved behind his head as a pillow, "Father deems me important enough to stay alive. So any possible threats of violence and other unsavory fates have been waylaid in favor of my health."

Before any more responses, humored or incensed, could be given towards the young man's disrespect, Kascalion called for silence whilst motioning towards the doorway, awaiting his charge. It was a special day, not just for Telis, but for Kascalion as well. His first acolyte to survive the trials, his first apprentice to survive wars, invasions, and everything in between and beyond, and he was now to be ascended to powers once deemed unreachable for the man who had suffered tragedy after tragedy.

It was almost poetic to the man on the throne. Yet he could not understand why.

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Above the twilight skyways of the forgotten temple came the gentle sound of a new yet familiar ship, equal parts infamous and anonymous, like a black arrow festering with seething red veins above the terrain of Dromund Kaas, it’s exotic and custom-tuned engines humming in a way that heralded the approach of the honored Knight. The ”Breakpoint Extinction” swooped down from above, landing in an open clearing before the steps of the abandoned temple, a nimble maneuver that wasn’t too hard for the pilot behind the helm and the attachment he had with his ship. With the extension of the ship’s landing prods, and the opening of the doorway leading out of the ship, Telis made his appearance, stepping elegantly out of the ship with his head held high, his chin up and a smile on his face.

After all, returning victors should all have a reason to smile - and Telis figured that this was all the more reason to look good.

As Telis stepped out of his ship and into the night air of Dromund Kaas, he couldn’t help but take a breath to let the fresh air fill his lungs, letting it out on a heavy sigh. Adorned in clothes that others would’ve had to save up years for, Telis was nothing short of lavishly dressed, garbed in silver-lined, silken black robes, the vestments ending in three separate tails - one in the back, and two smaller strips at the front sides of his legs, ending at the ankle to show the silver sandals he wore. The collar of the robe came down to a sharp v-point on his chest, revealing the picture traced in gold light under his skin of a stylized and geometric ship coming down in a cascade of symmetry. Draped over his left shoulder was a single half-cloak that reached down to his wrist, hemmed in sharp triangular rivets of silver, shimmering with every small movement like the rest of his garb, making each of his movements appear as though he was made of liquid onyx. Adorning his fingers and his toes were the alchemized claws once belonging to another Sith, now made his own and worn as a silent threat to all others who tried to cross him. At his hips were his trusty sabers, and in his cybernetic hand, being used as though it was a scepter, was the Lightstaff he had claimed as his own.

Moving towards the steps, any stray light that hit Telis seemed to be absorbed by his clothing, only rippling off in a wave-like motion. To that end, his ascendance up the stairs seemed almost completely smooth despite the slight limp he still had from the fight, the wound he had obtained still healing. He took his time walking up the steps, listening to his footsteps quietly click against the stone and echo off into the forests of Dromund Kaas. It was peaceful, and the reason he had been called here by Kascalion Giedfield only increased his mirth, to the point where his eyes and his glowing tattoos seemed utterly radiant against his skin, giving him a gentle golden glow and making him out as a beacon in the dark night. Eventually, Telis reached the top of the steps, standing before the great doors of the temple before moving to sling the Lightstaff over his back, affixed rose a black synthleather strap he had designed for holding the weapon and looking stylish at the same time.

Moving to the doors, Telis took a deep breath, allowing a gay smile to come to his face, before pushing open the doors of the ancient throne room and stepping within, immediately greeted with the soft light of the lit braziers and finding a much warmer interior compared to the exterior outside. On the far side of the room, Telis not only saw his master and the Imperial Pyramid of Scientific Advancement, but he was also greeted by the sight of Hel, Kascalion’s faithful wife (and quite capable duelist), alongside his lead Draal servant, Kascalion’s son, Reva, and semi-families sights of Kascalion’s three leading Majors. It was not a surprise to see them all gathered, but upon spotting them, Telis had little opportunity to truly take in the breadth of the chamber, his arms opened wide before the gathered crowd, before his head bowing in reverence. He then proceeded to move just a step forwards, carrying with him in those few steps the energy that he had carried up the steps.

”I was not expecting so many guests, but I am honored by all your appearance, collectively, and I am honored by your invitation, my Lord, for which I have great thanks and reason to be joyous, if my assumptions guide me true.” Telis would smile brightly as he spoke, his voice echoing and carrying with it the power of a trained orator. He meant every word he said, and while it was hard to tell whether Telis was acting or being genuine, in this moment, he truly was being genuine with every word he said.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

The Devil Lion looked down upon his apprentice with glee in his eyes and a barely contained grin under the copper beard of his Proxy Prime. With a snap of his right index finger and thumb, the hall lit up even more than it was by way of previous unlit braziers, revealing not only hidden rows of black stone pews, but more attendees sitting in those pews. If Telis were to examine those who sat alongside him, he would be able to notice that they were the same who had witnessed his duel against Hel, dressed in black and green hooded robes, their faces concealed behind bone-white porcelain masks shaped into grimaces of pain, awe, and joy. At their reveal, the gathered watchers rose from their pews, arms raised above their head and throats uttering sayings in a tongue as old as the Sith themselves.

The Devil Lion stood as well and let himself be bathed in the newly enhanced light, revealing the intricate stitching and details of his flawless Cerlin robes, adorned with stripes of blood-red silk and golden thin-metal scripture running down the large, open sleeves. The hood, which itself was lined with black fur along the rim, had been drawn back over his shoulder blades to allow his genetically perfect face to be shown in full glory, his golden eyes' piercing rays falling upon the fashionable Coruscanti figure.

"Welcome, my apprentice," he began with a subtle increase in his tenor, arms opened aloft in greetings not many would assume a Sith to be capable of. "I trust the travel was not too difficult."

"He's alive, does it matter?" Reva inquired once again with disinterested snark, resulting in a light smack onto the back of his head from the Nautolan.

Kascalion ignored the tone of his son and lowered himself back into his throne, motioning with his right hand for the watchers to sit as well, "Telis Taharin, Knight of the Sith Empire, Apprentice to the Pyramid of Scientific Advancement and Lord of Ash, I bid thee kneel to the seven before you."

When Telis would do so, the Devil Lion would continue by uttering a few words in the same tongue as those who sat in the pews, silently prompting them to repeat the words with emphasis and passion. The light of the flames throughout the hall would flicker and dim with each subsequent word spoken, only to find strength when silence fell upon the gathered for but a few moments.

Kascalion leaned forward in his throne, hands connected at the fingertips as thunder began to roar outside the temple and rain began to pelt the ground loudly enough to echo through the temple halls into the throne room, and he spoke once again, his voice booming and purposeful, "The Sith first came to be as an Empire six-thousand-nine-hundred years prior to the fateful battle of Yavin. They ruled the Galaxy with an iron fist until the Great Hyperspace War where they fell into ruin. Leaders of this Empire would rise and conquer in the years following that war, just as we rise and conquer today. Exar Kun, Freedon Nadd, Revan, Malak, Treya, Sion, Nihilus, Ruin, Bane, Plageuis, Sidious, Vader, Krayt. At their individual peaks, these Sith knew no bounds and ran through the Galaxy as warriors of legend, marauders of glory, just as we do now."

A crack of lightning struck the roof of the temple, shaking its foundation and prompting a sarcastic squeal of horror from Reva who was silenced again by the Nautolan and a sideways glare from his father.

"The Sith have survived and persisted through thick and thin, terror and joy, victories and defeats. You, Telis Taharin, have done the very same, surviving and persisting through thick and thin, teror and joy, victories and defeats. Your recent victory over Gryylarc has come to my attention. I am most proud of you, Telis. Most proud. While this victory does not change the outcome of today, it is a victory I have noted and shall note for some time. And today, I shall use it as an addition to the honor I shall bestow upon you. Pradzia, nuyak tikras!"

Those in the pews rose to their feet as swift as shadows form in sunlight, chanting in their tongue once more as Kascalion rose as well and began to descend the steps towards his apprentice, speaking with authority, duty, and genuine pride, "Since the days of Revan, we Sith have used the term Darth appended to our chosen names. Darth Andeddu, Darth Baras, Darth Caedus, Darth Malgus, Darth Maul, Darth Tenebrous, Darth Talon, Darth Tyranus, Darth Carnifex, Darth Prazutis, Darth Saarai, Darth Pyrrhus, Darth Avacyn, Darth Arcanix, Darth Ophidia, Darth Voracitos, Darth Skodd, Darth Vornskr II, Darth Athora, Darth Morrow, Darth Invidius, Darth Auctoritas, Darth Abaddon. A long lineage, a long bloodline, a long history of glorious conquer and battle. Nu valia vae j'us buti tave monot."

"Mes valia vae j'us buti tave monot!" the watchers shouted with glee, practically jumping in place as the storm outside began to rage so violently, lightning struck like an automatic blaster around the temple.

Kascalion stopped just short of his apprentice and held his arms aloft, eyes beaming, crackling with the increasing power within him, electricty of black and red coloring sparking and stretching between his finger tips, "Telis Taharin, Knight of the Sith Empire, Apprentice to the Pyramid of Scientific Advancement and Lord of Ash...I, Kascalion Giedfield, Darth Abaddon, Lord of Ash, Dark Councilor, Pyramid of Scientific Advancement, and your Master...would bid you rise onto your feet as one of us. Rise, Telis Taharin, as a true warrior. Rise as a true scholar. Rise as a true leader. Rise as a true Lord. Rise as Darth. Rise as SITH! Rise and speak your name! Pradzia ir buti visas!"

Telis Taharin-Zambrano

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Telis would watch as suddenly the room brightened several times over, now revealing the pews, stuffed with the faithful that had watched Telis fight for his survival against Hel so long ago. The words of the masked faithful gathered washed over Telis as the ancient tongue was set from their hidden mouths, and with a fading of his jovialness to a more refined sense of pride, Telis began to walk between the pews, his robed garments weighing heavily against his smaller frame, outlining his physique in the obsidian silk.

As he was beckoned, Telis would move to the foot of the throne where Kascalion Giedfield sat, his expression turning more and more stoic as he arrived closer, eventually all his emotion hidden except for the glint in his own golden eyes. Without a word, Telis would kneel down before the Devil-Lion, his head bowed and his shoulder-cloak draping over his left knee. The words of his master fell upon him like a commandment - a regaling of the history of the Sith, and the legacy that now led to Telis kneeling here, upholding the tradition of an ancient, esoteric order. Every name listed was another warrior that Telis aspired to become and to surpass, even if he would never be a leader such as them.

With the crack of the lightning over the roof, Telis kept himself from flinching, simply tugging at the silver-hemmed shoulder-cloak and keeping his head bowed low as Kascalion went onwards, the lightning reflecting off his new claws with a wicked reflection of the Dark Side energy. He was both invigorated and humbled by the action, his face lit with the pale light for a moment before it returned to the familiar shade of olive. As Kascalion went on into the praise of his latest accomplishments, Telis couldn’t help but let a sly smirk come to his face. He deserved to be able to revel in his accomplishments once in a while, after all - it was only healthy for the ambitious to do so.

Around him, the voices of the masked followers all rose up, as he watched Kascalion descend from his throne to meet him at the foot of the stairs leading to the pedestal. Telis was lost in the sudden wash of voices, some speaking in that ancient tongue of the Sith while one continued to hail back to the titles of the great warriors and kings who had come before him - who, in a way, had walked the same rise to glory as Telis did now. Telis looked to meet Kascalion’s golden eyes as his pupils were reduced to slits, either by the light of his implants or some genetic oddity that had been overlooked in his creation. Outside the storm strengthened, a beacon to the dark ascendancy for the Sith Knight, once named Telis Taharin yet now stripped of name in this moment. As he was beckoned, the nameless Coruscanti began to let the energy of the room seep into him.

He was entirely nameless, given a small taste of what it’s like to defy his birth and choose the truth he wished to spell for himself. His name would return to him soon, but a new one would be underlaid beneath it, a name more true than the one he was born as, and a new purpose beyond that which he was born to have. With a single deep breath, the nameless Sith allowed himself to come to full height, standing with a straight posture and his hands held at his sides, the gleaming claws glittering overtop his fingertips. He rose now, not as he was before, but as fully a Sith, depraved and submerged into the darkness that fueled the immortal order. Who he was before was now a shade of who he was now.

There was no point of return, his identity rent in this revelation as he rose as a Sith, a master of the Force, a defiant of fate and forger of his own fortune. In a voice that carried over the entirety of the hall, the Sith let his proclamation ring out, directed straight towards the Lord of Ash that stood before him. ”I am Darth Aagenti, Lord of Genesis! I am evolution and artifice, the wyrm bathed by the crucible, and whose fangs now lay anointed with intent!” As Darth Aagenti spoke, the image visible on his chest was sparked with corruption, a seething red network of veins splintering the golden image, before molding into a new shape that stretched up to his neck, and all the way down to both of his hands. Jagged lines like scales covered his skin both visible and invisible, as his eyes began to bleed from gold into red - a true sign of devotion.

”I stand here now, and let all know that I am the beginning through which all unworthy beginnings shall end.”