The Prophet's Hand

[Darth Abyss]

Space Station, Outer Rim - Deep Space

Darth Abyss, the Prophet of Malachor and Katarr, had reduced his presence from the galaxy, blended in with the shadows even more than before. The passing of time had come with a cost, with the lose of a world he had resurrected from the dead, and through it the lose of much of his power and influence. Yet this wasn't the first time the Mindeater had fallen from grace, and it wasn't the first time he would take a defeat only to rise again, stronger and more powerful then ever before. To do that he needed to rebuild his network of spies, of agents and shadows that gave him accesses to the one thing that made him powerful: Knowledge.

The first he had to recruit was a new Shadow Hand, a position imagined by the ancient sith. Not every lord of the sith used the rank of the Hand, but Abyss saw everyone as a fool who didn't. A weapon of the dark side forged to be both less and more than an actual apprentice, a weapon that could be used for almost everything, from field commander to assassin.

Even without his organization, the Tainted Chorus, being fully operational he still had sources and information in every place where the law was a nothing more than a word that no one cared for. This time he followed the traces of an alleged terrorist, a girl that had been part of a suspiringly impressive massacre a while ago. The news about her actions had passed him long ago, but recently there had been a shift in the force, an echo that had drawn him to seek her out. Why exactly the force hadn't yet revealed to him, but he suspected that it was part of his search for a shadow hand.

The empty metal husk that was Abyss made his way through the dim light of the stations corridors, passing by passed out junkies, and all kinds of scoundrels and misfits along the way, following a glimpse of darkness he could feel somewhere in the depths of the structure.

[member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Blake Morrigan]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEsdu8BTytY​

​

| [member="Darth Abyss"] |​

OUT of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

Blake had recovered...somewhat. She had arisen from the muck once again, like an undead permanently desirous of all that she could not have. Blake had first opened her eyes, then swallowed plants: painkillers, supplements, then she had shakily made her way onto her feet and then she learned to walk again...a cane in hand and a brace locking her leg into place. Blake was a creature who thrived in struggle, without it, she would cease to be. Her weaknesses were her source of strength. All her trials were her fuel, and she'd had many trials. For most creatures of her age, her illness, her upbringing, her disfigurement, they would be too much. They would crack under the insanity ever lurking, threatening. They would not force those tired lungs to respire, they would not push those burning muscles to step and step again, to walk, to run. Forcing the demons out with strength of soul and strength of mind that made up for everything that her body lacked. Blake was...different. And upon this station of filth Blake was among them, but she was not one of them.

She would do what she had to, because she was possessed. Not as Hartigan was with some parasitic demon in the hollows of a beautiful exterior. Every time those lungs expanded it was an effort of splendid passion. Every time those muscles pushed it was art set on fire because Blake knew what she wanted and she was going to get it.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

The question of the year: how was her leg? The one that had left her a bloody cripple? the one that caused her to cast that screech into the night air, the one that sent shivers down even the ghost's spine. The one that made her pass out from the loss of fluid, the one that had taken half of her to mobilize herself? But Blake was all too used to darkness and what was one more small disadvantage in the grand scheme of things. Trent was half blind, Inukshuk was half blind, Vex had been totally blind, and though Blake did not know them personally. Lockheed was mute, Crossbones was old, and they had all found their successful places, at least for a while. If they could do it, there was no reason why she should not, and so she wept little for her loss. She'd lost much worse before, lost a childhood, lost a family - one that to her no longer existed and had never existed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

So now Blake took all of herself, and nothing less than all of herself, and she moved her feet and her body and her heart all towards the dark center of the stations, because she felt like something was waiting for her there. And now was the time to go, because her health was on one of it's upswings and her heart was on one of its upswings and all she knew was that she wanted to be WORTH SOMETHING worth a lot, invaluable and useful and good. To make everyone proud, to make someone...anyone...anything proud, because maybe then she could feel good about herself, maybe then it would sink into her stubborn mind that she was more than a sickly pathetic girl from a backwater planet, the daughter of a clan that would disown her and a slave to one of the men who had destroyed her innocence...just a disgrace. Maybe then everything would be good.

No, no maybes. This was the way it was going to be, because she was going to make it that way. She had to...she remembered that day...that day with the bomb. She nearly died there...choked to death by a brute larger and stronger than herself...and as the blackness closed in on her a voice rang in her mind as a second chance as life was given to her...surely it had to be 'someone' that helped her that day? It had to be for 'something' right?

Blake wanted to think so...to think something greater had noticed her despite her massive imperfections and still gave her a chance. And while she remained in this space station, she only did so to survive...to heal from her wounds and decide her next course of action. And as the delicate babe limped down the metal corridors of the station a pulse went off in her arm which was bandaged and covered by a long sleeve...the throbbing pain she had felt so many months ago returning with a vengeance as she stopped in her tracks and clutched her arm painfully. Gritting her teeth and digging her nails into her flesh as a feeling of darkness and famine poured from her very being as if calling out to whatever lied beyond...

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

And what a soul she had.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Abyss could feel the dark echo becoming louder with every step he took. Normally he made an effort to hide himself below the shadows, but here where crime and corruption was running rampant he didn't needed to. Every criminal from the Coruscanti underworld to Nar Shaddaa knew the masked Prophet, the sith lord that had risen as a major player of human, arms and drug trafficking as well as various other shady ventures that made him both notorious and notoriously wealthy. The junkies stepped aside when the metal figure walked, keeping their heads low to not catch his attention for one reason or another. Little did they knew that he couldn't care much less about them.

The closer he came to the black, tainted heart that was withered with corruption, the closer he came to the heart of the station as well. He could feel her, he could feel that she was awaiting him, even if she probably knew little about who and what he was. Abyss, the Mindeater, no longer a man made out of flesh, but hollow steal, a spirit only bound to the world by twisted magic and alchemy, and endless black void where a normal being had a mind. Either she would bow to him, accept the seductive pull of his power, or he would devour her thought and memories like he had done with so many before. The otherworldly voice of Abyss boomed through the empty halls, followed by an strange echo.

"Step forward, lesser one. Refuse and this will be the end of your time."

No need to talk around it. That was the way it was when Abyss made a decision. You either fell in line or the endless hand of the Prophet would reach for your throat. His presence was clearly not that of a normal sith, it felt as inhuman and unnatural as he actually was, and more than one had described feeling it as an quite unnerving experience.

"I came to offer you power, in return all I expect is absolute loyalty. Make your decision quickly, I am a quite busy man."

The words where followed by a laugh, a sound as dark and twisted than the mindeater himself. It was another thing people had described as quite unnerving.

[member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Blake Morrigan]

| [member="Darth Abyss"] |​

Raven the Brave.

Raven the Ferocious.

Raven the Mighty.

These words seemed to return to the girls mind...echoes within the center of her consciousness as her mothers voice seemed to ring in her ears. The pain rising within her arm as a blackness seemed to only grow closer and closer to her as those silvern eyes gazed into the abyss...She had to find something to boost her confidence, something to swell her chest with, but all these feelings of childhood whimsy quickly faded when she was met with the beast himself...

Her eyes would lift and wander over the creature before her...fear found a nice snug place to rest within her heart but her mind?

Her mind seemed clear...curiosity lingering there as the creature spoke. Its words making Blake simply stare rather blankly as she pondered for a moment...

'Lesser one?'...'sounds about right.' She mused to herself, her hand running up the mark of her arm as the pain merely intensified. Grunting quietly she gave a brief nod, taking a step forward and moving her crutch of a cane forward to move her more rigid leg which remained straight in a brace.

Raven the Fierce.

Raven the Brave...

Pfft...yeah, right mother...that was going to help her here...

And as the man offered her...power, in return for loyalty Blake simply grimaced. Was he...serious? Then again, she supposed he had to be if someone like him came all the way out to the middle of nowhere just to give the offer to some insignificant cripple on a station of misfits and rejects...maybe he knew something she didn't?

Or maybe...he was the one who saved her life...that night on Ke'lai?

The thought made her silver eyes lighten up as her gaze remained upon him...her expression fixed and rather tame.

Did she have the courage to go through with it? This was an offer for the strong, and she was not strong. But if she had to reform herself into something resembling strength, some facade of steel...Blake... would try her hardest.

That was her only gift, her tenacity. Her will, her ability to go on no matter the odds...

Blake lifted her head, numb with sudden fear; she was sure that it didn't show on the outside, but in a second's time the world had gained a horribly sharp clarity. Everything was hyper-focused, her limbs tingling with the light-headedness of dread, dreading what she had traveled to seek: Power...and here it was answering her call in the form of darkness.


"My name...is Blake Morrigan." She would muse, closing her eyes for a moment and bowing her head. "And i accept...your contract."

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Contract? What do you think this is girl? A job offer?"

Again there was the unsettling laugh, a sound with no clear source, despite the fixed, wicked grin on Abyss metal skull being a pretty good fit. Slowly the figure began to circle around the crippled girl, his claw like hands clasped behind his back. She wasn't what he had expected from the visions, but the force never showed him such things without a reason. There had to be something about her that made her fit to become The Hand of the Prophet. What exactly that was would show in the weeks and months of her struggling through the sheer impossible tasks he called training. As his master always said: "success or death."

"No my little cripple, this in not a contract. You belong to me now, your blood, your flesh, your bones and even your thoughts. My hand will forge you in fire, blood and war, and either you will become something greater, or you will break like so many before you."

What he meant by that she would learn quite soon, maybe a little bit to soon for her taste. The Mindeater continued his circles around her, his steps leaving no sound whatsoever making him even more ghostlike than he already seemed. Her current state would make for an excellent test, even if she probably had a different opinion on that than him.

"Remember girl, power always comes with a price. What are you ready to sacrifice?"

The metal figure stopped in front of her, lowing himself a bit to stand at her height, the sharp teeth of his skull grinning directly into her face, and the hollow holes in his mask allowing her a bit of insight into the abyss. Then another laugh, echoing though the air like a hundred laughed at once.

"Wait do not answer that. I know the answer already: Your Pride."

Without moving a hand the Prophet released a telekinetic blast aimed at her cane, an attack meant to force her to her knees by breaking it. He didn't expected her to stand, she didn't yet had the strength to defy the chains of her flesh prison, but maybe she had at least the willpower to stay calm and collected in the face of petty cruelty.

"Come on now, no time to lay on the floor girl. There is work to do."

Her first test on her way to power would be simple: Crawl behind her master.

[member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Blake Morrigan]

[member="Darth Abyss"]​

The center had learned to hold.

Precious gravity had re-asserted itself, and as it ascended from the phoenix ashes of its immolation, the world slowly turned right side up once again. Abstract blurs of color and sound and voice became coherent concepts that the mind could latch on to and understand once again; gestalt halves of murky understanding fused and were born into new light. The hungry tongues of the netherworld abated and the hazed thinned into a blessed clarity, a clarity Blake had not felt in a long while. It was a lot like living blind and dazed in a world full of bright lights, thinking all was as it should be - only to find herself staring through a looking glass that sharpened the focus, shined the lenses on all that she'd missed. Then arrived the realization that there was more to this than angry welts of distortion. The easy part.

Sacrifice your pride.

It was a rougher path for Blake to integrate herself another time into the screaming, desecrated temple of her consciousness. She'd spent so long in the isolation of her mutilated womb that it was hard to assimilate, hard to think. In the abysmal depths she'd been safe and sound, breathing liquid shadow while the rapid heartbeat soothed all her hurt. A second birth, a second mewling infancy - she had smote his ruin in blood and iron and riven flesh, only to raise her up in her desiccated, atrophied hands.

Seemed Abyss had finally staked his claim on Blake for all eternity - that much was writ into her, gouged into her flesh, plain for all to see in the gaping ugliness of weakness. She had taken much more than he'd given.

There was work to be done.

For Queen and Country...or in this case for him, whoever this being was.

She was not terribly bothered or even phased with the rather unnecessary display given by the Sith...knocking her cane away and forcing her to crash to the ground thanks to the imbalance...her fractured leg injuring further as she grunted quietly.

Was this necessary?

No...certainly not. But in the end if it gained her power she'd suffer it...besides. She sacrificed her pride long ago before this being arrived.

This was simply a means to an end. All part of the game right? And so she crawled, her expression unchanging as a slight sigh escaped her lips. The pain in her leg rippling up her spine as each shuffle forward only made her grimace slightly.

Completely unnecessary...

 

[Darth Abyss]

No words of protest, no open defiance. That was good. Defiance was a worthwhile feeling, but like every other emotion those that followed the darkness needed to know when and where there right place for it was. Defiance in the face of enemy that stood above you, but only by a single step was a powerful motivation. Defiance in the face of a vastly superior being on the other hand was an easy was to die, a lesson Abyss had carved into the heads of all those he had uplifted to true strength. Other than the jedi and other fools believed the way of the sith wants simply about embracing your darkest feelings. No, it was about being in perfect control over these feelings, over the ability to keep them contained until they where needed to empower them. At least in that regard the girl seemed to have some talent.

"What do you feel girl?"

It was a honest question. He could look into her head and find out, but it was more important that she was aware of her own feelings. His methods were sometimes crude, sometimes simply crude, but never without a reason. Pain, suffering, both physically and mentally where the only path that lead to the power she desired. It was important that she understood why he was doing what he did to her, that it wasn't just childish pettiness, but a calculating, methodical approach at breaking his students.

He continued his path, constantly upping his pace, just enough to make the task more demanding to her. The path back to his ship would take a bit with her crawling behind him, exactly like he had intended it. Now she was still collected, but he would make sure that she would lose her clam before they would reach the airlock. He just needed to find the right words for that, probe around a bit until he struck a nerve.

"No pride then? What about love?"

People always thought sith could have no attachments. That was a lie. The truth was that all sith besides the most powerful lords could have no attachments, as they could keep them hidden and secure to a degree that these things would never interfere with their plans and schemes. But a mere acolyte, they needed to leave behind all they held dear, so their chains could be broken.

"Tell me about your mother, your family, your friends."

[member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Blake Morrigan]

| [member="Darth Abyss"] |​

Still unnecessary.

At least thats what the girl told herself. She always seemed to look at the big picture regardless of what made up the picture itself...this pain and humiliation was something she had felt before, thus she felt it was unnecessary to simply feel it again. Most of her young like consisted of the very thing she was doing now and as she crawled behind the being she only felt mild annoyance from the fact she was mulching over the same feelings that had consumed her life.

He asked what she felt...

A question that only made her blink. She did not know what he was expecting to hear from her but she supposed this being was smart enough to already know the answer...

Then again he likely simply wanted to hear it from her...

Blake spoke quietly but deliberately.

"Physically...i feel pain...emotionally?" She began, weighing what she truly felt before going on. "I feel shame...although to be honest, this is something i have felt before...so i can't say i am incredibly bothered by it anymore. Humiliation, shame, and degradation are things i am familiar with...as is pain. Though i cannot say i know them intimately, i can say i know them well enough to know that it will only get worse from here." She mused, noticing the man upping his pace and sighing a bit in annoyance as she tried to crawl a bit faster. Struggling to do so due to her damaged knee.

And when she asked about her personal attachments Blake saw no reason to lie...mainly because they held no true significance.

"My mother...i don't remember much of. I suppose once i loved her, but now all i feel towards her is bitterness. As for my brothers, it can be said i despise them for what they did to me which resulted in the events of my childhood and teenage stages of life...and friends? I had a friend...but she left to become a Jedi. I tell myself i hate her for leaving me behind...after the promises we made. But i suppose that is all irrelevant, fickle promises and attachments have gotten me nowhere so i refuse to dwell on them any longer." She explained calmly as her eyes flared in determination. Upping her pace more and more until she was practically on the heels of the Dark Lord.

It would only get harder from here...the pain, the suffering, the rage.

She could tell herself she was ready...put on her strong face and challenge it. But she knew that when it came, she would loath it. And it was that very experience that would give her power.

She wanted it...she wanted the pain, wanted the suffering...because it would give her the power to rise above.

She would hate it...but others often hated what they desperately needed.

 

[Darth Abyss]

"How interesting."

The tone of the sith Lord was quite casual as he continued his path in front of her. It actually was rather interesting to him that neither pride nor love seemed to affect her. To be come sith an apprentice had to be broken, and to break an apprentice a master had to understand his apprentice. Everybody had a weakness, from the highest lord to the lowliest farmer. Once an individual understood how to find these weakness there was no enemy left that couldn't be forced to fall. His mind repeated what little he had already learned about [member="Blake Morrigan"], searching for that one bit, that single spark that would allow him to fully see her through. Everyone had an attachment something dear, and that thing was the most dangerous weapon in the galaxy.

"No pride and no love means your attachment is not to a person, but to an idea. The question is what idea? What is the weakness that pains you, what is the desire that cripples you more than your body ever could?"

His metal feet left no sound every time the meet the metal floor while the two traversed through the dim lite corridors, passing by junkies and scum at every corner. This was a tough nut to crack, but there was no riddle he couldn't solve, no mystery he was unable to uncover. All he needed was time, time in which his endless mind played through then countless possible and less possible options. That was what his power really was about, not eating minds but his level of nigh omniscience.

"Power? No. Like all those called by the darkness you desire power, but for a purpose higher than power itself."

Many sith desired power, for power's sake. It wasn't his way, but one he could respect. Those that always strove and struggled for more power faced a constant challenge, they evolved and adapted to stay on top. Other reasons brought danger with them, they could disconnect a young sith from what it meant to walk upon the path of the ancient lords. Ideals where nothing more thsn beautiful dreams and illusions, they could make one blind for the truth. He tilted his head slightly, looking up into the air, a motion that looked oddly human compared to his metal husk.

"Order? Yes, but not just for order's sake. It is control you seek, the power to bring order to this galaxy. How foolish."

It was clear now, he whole behaviour had hinted at it yet he had taken so long to see it. That was why she had so willingly submitted, why she had not tried to lie to him. By refusing to play his game she had given herself of being in control, like her actions were able to influence this encounter. He would punish her so she would never make such a grave mistake again.

"There is no order in this galaxy, no justice, no peace, only chaos. The sooner you learn that chaos is our ally, not our enemy, the sooner we can begin your real training."

There was nothing mocking in his voice, no hint of humor or amusement. His taunts and mockery were useful, but they also humanized him, despite the fact that there was very little about him that he still shared with a human. He had ascended to a higher plane, he stood far above petty minds held captive in their equally petty flesh prisons. Slowly he turned around, the metal husk towering over her as menacing as he could.

"There will never be control."

The words echoed in the air for a second, the they were followed by a metal leg, a low kick aimed directly at the center of her face.