The Helm of Ieldis

[Darth Abyss]

Darkknell, Daiman's Rise

Those that walked upon the path of the darkness, and more precisely that of the sith, often had a certain interest into the past. They were driven by a desire for power, and there weren't many legends of powers greater than those of the lords of ancient ages. Yet most young sith lacked the patience to delve deeply enough into the seemingly endless history of the galaxy. They all knew the tales of Darth Bane, the man that burned the sith brotherhood and then gave rise to a new order from the ashes. They all knew the legends of Darth Vader, the emperor's most loyal and most dangerous servant. They all knew about the misadventures of Darth Revan the jedi turned sith turned jedi that was one of the few to truly stand outside the common notion of light and dark.

Darth Abyss was a scholar rivaled by very few. His insight into the inner workings of the force, death and time made him a force that seemed to exist outside of nature, but the subject on which he had the most complete knowledge on was the past. Even when he had been young and still chained by flesh his talent for uncovering the hidden truths of the long gone ages had always overshadowed those of his peers, both by conventional and esoteric means.

That was why he, other than so many that shared his path, was aware of an ancient sith called Daiman, a powerful yet obscure figure of history. His interest wasn't in the arrogant, borderline narcissistic sith lord that had once ruled Darkknell, but on an artifact said sith was connected to that had been forged by an even more obscure lord called Ieldis. This relic, the Helm of Ieldis, was a mask that was a powerful mental conduit that allowed to channel negative emotions into other living beings to push them into violent frenzies.

Time hadn't been kind to Darkkrell. Poverty plagued the streets of the backwater world, while crime and debauchery were running rampant. The eldritch husk, a hollow, rusty metal armor kept together by hunger, darkness and twisted magic, walked through the dirty alleyways of one of the larger cities, heading for a bar known as a gathering place for underworld elements called "The Dictator's Head", located right besides the headless statue of the sith lord that had once ruled the world.

Abyss didn't had to do anything once he entered into the rundown establishment. He was a rather uncommon sight, but under the moniker of Prophet he was an notorious figure of the intergalactic underworld, feared by many, respected by many but comprehended by none. Without wasting his time with the thugs that made an effort to never look at the twisted things among them he headed for a thin man waiting at the edge of the establishment. His agents had set up this meeting after discovering that the man had informations that would lead Abyss to the object of his desire. Slowly the abomination that casually defied the laws of reality took place on the table with the man, shuffled a pouch with credits over to him and received a datapad in return. While the man left he began to analyze the intel, only to realise that this would most likely be a plan that required an additional sith to work.

[member="Nadia Vytuia"]

 

[Graf's Archive Account]

"Irritated Query: And why, out of all of the places in this meatbag-ridden galaxy, are we on 'Darkknell', instead of somewhere; like I don't know, Alderaan, assassinating the monarchy?"

The defeated voice of one HK-47 resonated through the damp, mold-ridden alleyway of the planet's main city, accompanying his Master in the hive of scum and villainy. Nadia had put her hood up in an attempt to hide the fact that she was Sith, as well as going as far as to try to shrink her presence in the Force as to not attract other Sith, or worse: Jedi. "Because, HK, when someone gives you a mission to go to a scummy place, you go to that scummy place." She grumbled at her droid, one of her only earthly possessions that she legitimately owned, not something issued to her by the Ascendancy.

Trudging through a patch of disgusting mud, or what she thought was mud, the young woman would suddenly feel cold. But it wasn't temperature, evident by her efforts to pull her cloak further over her body, it was something sounding through the Force, as a sort of warning sign. She had only ever felt this cold when she was by chance in the presence of a powerful Sith Lord, causing her to realize that this might be the same situation. But curiosity began to get the best of her; Why would a relatively powerful Sith, or something else, be here on this planet? What goals could they have in mind if they were indeed here?

The Sith did not know, but she was going to be damned if she didn't try to find out. Letting the Force guide her much to the confusion of her droid compatriot, she would soon find herself outside of a rundown tavern where the cold morphed into something like frostbite. She would wipe off one of the mucky windows and peek inside to scope out the crowd.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

It wasn't the woman that caught his figurative eye, but the droid following after her. HK-47, a walking piece of history which just had entered the Dictator's head, shrouded in echoes of the past that could be heard by those that knew how to listen. The old, rusty steel told the legends of Revan, of the Exile and of the cold war, above many other things even if the droid probably didn't remembered those things himself anymore.

Now the Mindeater was actually intrigued. Integral remnants of history like HK didn't randomly stumbled into the service of worthless insects, not just because a specialised assassin droid wouldn't lower himself to such things, but because the streams of time and the force didn't allowed it. The misadventures of Revan and the Exile that both involved the droid were obvious prove of that for anyone with enough insight in the rules and laws that towered above the fragile laws of reality.

Casually the husk lifted his left slightly, pointing the claw like hands at the nearest thug. Without even actively recognizing the mental resistance of the man, the formless storm of the dark void that resembled what he had instead of a mind reached into the thug's head, endless tendrils wrapping around his thoughts and memories until there was nothing left but Abyss corrupting influence. Effortlessly he commanded the now broken shell of a man to walk towards [member="Nadia Vytuia"], representing another one of the disposable messengers the Prophet commonly used to conduct his business. The plan he had in mind required a second individual with the right set of skills. A sith would be best, but the notorious HK-47 would probably be almost equally useful.

The thug, a thin blonde man in dirty clothes, stepped close to the woman and her droid, speaking in a emotionless, almost mechanical fashion while his empty eyes looked at nothing particular of in the distance. The force wasn't required to see that something wasn't entirely right with him.

"The Prophet has invited both of you to his table. Please follow me."

The shell of the thug would lead the two through the rundown establishment, towards the table where the Mindeater was sitting, a dragon head shaped pipe locked between the sharp teeth of his mechanical jaw. From it, and the empty eyes of the husk, emerged thin smoke of odd scent, the burning Korriban incense filling the air with vibrant arcane energy.

OOC: sorry for the slow reply, for some reason the tag wasn't working.

 

[Graf's Archive Account]

The Sith woman would watch as this thug came up to her, informing the duo that the 'Prophet' had invited them to sit down with him. Skepticism crawled onto her features while she examined the man, as it looked like something had dominated his mind to send this message to the inexperienced acolyte, most likely this 'Prophet' person that he spoke about. "Very well" was all she could muster in response before the thug led them to what was obviously the source of the cold she felt, a Sith Lord covered from head to toe in what looked like...bone...?

"Sarcastic Remark: Oh how wonderful, another all-powerful 'Dark Meatbag' with its own unlimited power! I think this one is going for the 'Darth Nihilus' look this time, Master. Shall I disintegrate it with extreme prejudice? Or whatever is left of it, at least."

Nadia suppressed a wide smirk by throwing a look of reproach at her assassin droid compatriot; It was totally not the time for such a statement but it was hilarious to her nonetheless. She turned back to face the man sitting at the table, 'Prophet' as the thug had called him, and gave a small bow while maintaining a respectful distance. "My Lord, you requested us?" The young woman began, her nose and her eyes detecting incense that the figure was smoking from his pipe.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"I did indeed. Droid, step forward."

The voice of the Mindeater had nothing in common with that of a man. It was a twisted, distorted echo, resounding through both the physical realm and the force. Abyss shifted his focus from [member="Nadia Vytuia"] to HK-47, far more interested in the droid then in the girl it was traveling with and he made no effort to hide that interest. The hollow eyes locked on the rusty metal of the hunter droid, the old steel sharing many similarities with his own body.

"You appear to be the Droid that traveled alongside Revan and the Exile during the wars of ancient times. Is your memory of that age still intact?"

Abyss was one of the leading historians that the current generation of sith had to offer. Even if his current plans were dwarfed by the opportunity to learn the stories of Revan and those that followed him from someone that watched them with its own eyes. After the question he shifted his focus back on the girl. Her presence was hidden, but the color of her skin still allowed insight into who and what she was. The red of the purebloods was hard to miss, and the fact that one born of the blood of the ancestors had no echo in the force made her effort to hide it apparent.

"Little Sith, it seems that your arrival here was a calling of fate. Are you willing to submit to my command to reach powers far beyond your comprehension?"

The promise of power normally was enough to make the young, inexperienced sith do his bidding and he expected the girl to be no different. It was not a question to serve as his apprentice, even if the Mindeater was currently searching for new flesh to form into the image of the great lords. She first would have to prove herself in what was about to come.