Faction The Shaping of Heresies [The Dread Ascendancy]

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Location: Credence, Edge of the Galaxy
Equipment: X | X | X
Tags: Inon | Darth Interitus | Vostok Grauv | Darth Vinaze | Darth Luminoth | Kreg Jare | Mlow Eman'outther

He was thankful that his body, molded in a chamber now lost to the sands, could survive the toxicity of the world outside. This allowed him to give secure pause to his return and the summons that prompted it, settling his empty sockets onto the endless lava-pocked desert before him. The world around was silent. Not even the rumble of the volcanic activity sounded throughout the air. That was something that perturbed him deeply, yet gave him a sense of joy. That sense of tranquility over the wastes of Credence was nothing more than a fiendish state that momentarily existed in spite of the world's all-together chaotic reality, awaiting the inevitability of the storm that would rage with black lightning and red rain, as he had foreseen. A calm that made the charred sands shudder deep in their grains, near the crust itself, and await when their currents would roam and wave like an ocean. An act set to welcome all that was to be forged this day from the Force itself.

Kascalion thought on this with hard intent at the precipice of the torch-lit tunnel that led to the citadel. The citadel. An unholy molten thing of alchemy-wrought iron and steel which had - per his instructions upon the Ascendancy’s colonization of this world - had been constructed underneath the Obsidian Mountains on the western coast of Roth, the planet's dividing ring. He had named it Vitar Gol - after the first recorded hero of the Skator Hai - and aimed to have it serve as the primary stronghold of his people.

People. Followers. The followers of you. Who are they, really?

“On a base level for tomorrow's possible proceedings, these warriors whom follow my banner are those who shall, after much pleading for my approval, seek to raise their own as the red sun rises high in the sky behind darkened smog. A prize I am sure many a Sith would be so blessed to have granted to them,” he had written one day past in a moment of literary musings, transcribed in his leather bound journal of scientific theories and historical factoids he recalled from time to time. “But most importantly, should I grant their requests, they shall have to prove that they are indeed the soldiers of the True Dark and abhor the weakness perpetuating its miasmic influence on this Galaxy to such an extent I fear it contagious. They must be those who aim to cull the foolish and the ill-blooded with a gleaming smile and a forceful anger. The men and women who would swear dominion over the Force and aid their Sith’Ari in their own destruction and rebirth. And those of all who oppose them.”​

But that would come later, he thought to himself as his sockets formed the globes of argent that signified conscious awareness. He turned sharply, heels digging in the hot sand, and embarked on his lonesome journey back to the citadel to meet with those that had come to him with offers, requests, and demands to enact the first Shaping. Proposed during the long journey to this uncontrolled section of the Tingel Arm, the Shaping would be an event to substantially augment the Ascendancy with beasts of the Force. Sithspawn meant to improve the armies which were - as they stood this day - sorely lacking in proper numbers. If successful, the Ascendancy would have gained much needed support for the coming wars.

Yet, Kascalion still silently wondered if such a thing would truly work given the mammoth depths of the Dark Side that would be conjured on this world, a risk that could rend the already unstable core apart. As the skeletal titan assessed this, he unknowingly passed several recently discarded exiles shunted forth into the wastelands for their cowardice, weakness, or any thereof within the Catalogues of Shame. They were shallow skinned beings in tattered rags, drained of their power and position by the Monitors, and sent to die alone. Discarded like waste. Their pleas for a second chance, to not be left to die alone and forgotten, fell on deaf ears. For the one that only barely managed to grab the Devil's attention, he was smote to ash with naught but a gaze.

His full attention would rather be snapped back moments later as the royal plaza of Vitar Gol - his main destination - came into view following a turn of three consecutive corners marked with white-painted insignia to aid in travel. For each time he saw it, he was amazed by the city’s dark beauty. Tremendous in its size, spanning for miles and miles underneath the scorching obsidian. Bathed in the blue light of the sulfuric laced magma rivers coursing around it like mythical snakes. But he had not the time to marvel upon the beauty that towered before him.

The Autarch's hollow gaze and hallowed path locked onto the spire in the center of the plaza, where those seeking his approval for participation in the Shaping had been told to await him. The gates of the plaza opened minutes before he neared, as those operating the gates needed only to see the dot of his figure in the distance against the heated haze to know of his arrival. The clunking and thunking of hydraulics and environmental shield generators sparked to life as he entered into the primary decontamination chamber, greeted by automated voices praising him and his status within the Ascendancy.

He paused only momentarily to acknowledge those guarding the gates - a curt nod to each.

And then he continued on, each heavy step purposeful as he passed Sith noblemen and noblewomen, some marked by their equipment and aura of the Dark Side and others by their plethora of slaves attached to their heel. A few royal guardsman, hand picked from both Dread Knights and Monitors, bowed in reverence before moving on to continue their security detailing of the plaza, likely issued to them by The Convocation.

Eventually, the Autarch came upon the multi-locked, iconography-laden gates of the spire that groaned and slid open with rapidity spiting their titanic size. The interior lobby was, for the most part, empty - a signifier that all who knew of the coming events had made their way to the top chamber. He stepped into the turbolift at the far end of the room and stood in silence as he was ascended. And when he arrived through the hissing doors of the sanctified and artificially lit chamber known as the Vox Asal, he would take his seat upon his golden throne, carefully placing his weapons beside him within reach should one attempt to take his life this day, as he was always expecting. And he would meet the gaze of all of his Sith who sought his approval, to create, and dive into the ocean to claim the sunken treasures of evil. And then, he would pass his judgement on who would be allowed to forge this first batch of monstrosities set to purpose for war.

Spoiler: OOC

Upon this ruined world, you of the Dread Ascendancy shall seek to bolster the ranks with inhumane creations, spawned from the very pits of evil itself. From monsters of gargantuan size to a multitude of smaller, easier to manage infernals, nothing shall be held back from creation if your requests are approved. All who participate in the Shaping are expected to bring out their very best. Alternatively, others may seek to establish themselves and find a clear path to their goals among their brothers and sisters, perhaps by interacting with fellow members or by setting out to discover an artifact hidden in the old scattered ruins.

To aid the general understanding of my intended outline, here's what I have in mind, as can be gathered from this post.

• Requests for participation in the Shaping made and judged in the Vox Asal. Establishment of character goals within the Ascendancy.
• Requests granted or denied. Chosen members are allowed to go out and do what they wish.
• Please refer to the Credence sub so as to have knowledge on the landscape, atmosphere, and Vitar Gol.
• Essentially, this is the opportunity for you guys to create what you want to see in future threads and establish your characters and goals, more than it is anything to do with earning the Autarch's approval.

 

[Darth Interitus]

Location: Credence
Nearby: Kascalion Giedfield Darth Vinaze Vostok Grauv Darth Luminoth Kreg Jare Inon Mlow Eman'outther

The time had finally come, it had finally arrived or the Ascendancy to make it's opening moves to set the galactic stage. Hidden within the Tingal arm was a world of which some spacers described as Mustafar's twin. Anyone not steeped in the dark side that had ventured forth to the world was overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the power had corrupted some, to others such as Interitus it was a haven of which to enact his plans. After leaving the world of Exogol, it didn't take long for him, and many Sith like himself were cast out of the Sith Empire to answer the call of the one they had called "Dread Lord" For the man if you could call him a man, an apparition of the dark side. Was the same being on which he had seen in his visions. The one promised to destroy the Sith, and reforge them anew. Better, stronger than what they themselves had become. That much was clear since he left as overseer of Commenor, and exile not long after. He had seen the rot within the Empire, as anyone lacked the ambition to take power. Such was a misuse of the Sith. Even Darth Bane recognized that power must be taken, not held onto till one holding said power grows too old or weak to keep such things.

That was what the Dread Lord had promised, a return to the way the Sith are meant to be. How Sith have always been. Unwilling to keep power, and if anyone wished to gain power, it was not by currying favor, but by taking it through brute force, sheer manipulation. For that was the way of the Sith. Adapt or die. That was how Interitus knew, when introduced to the Sith, he followed a Banite Sith or an aspiring one. When his training was complete and he took the mantel of Sith Lord. He slew his own Master, in accordance with the traditions of the Sith. Traditions now that had started to be spoken out by the one of which many called the "Dread Lord" When meeting the entity of which he would describe as a void of the dark side. He bowed at his feet, pledging his fealty and if anything less should come. He vowed that his life would be forfeit.

Many had answered the same call, and so uttered one command from the Dread Lord. "Build me an army worthy of the Sith." To which that Interitus worked day and night, studying the ancient Sith manuscripts given to him by the Dread Lord, work made by Naga Sadow, Exar Kun, and most importantly Darth Plagueis. Plagueis's writings themselves had fascinated Interitus to which he sought his own agenda to manipulate life itself, perhaps to prolong the life of the Dread Lord so that he may witness the dream of a new Sith Empire. One strong and rid of weakness that was a mockery to the dark side of itself.

He stood among the barren land, all around him were lines inscribed with the language of the Sith. Placing his palm down, he started to speak as best as he could, having already dabbled into the arts of Sith Magic. He prayed that by the Sith'ari he would not fail. For now, he would please his new Master with creations to herald his reign upon the galaxy. The ground shook as if Red Lightning was splitting open the ground as he spoke. Harnessing the planet's strong dark side energy. The dark side energy began to siphon the energy, and what came from the blue lava that cascaded through the ground were beings, beings formed out of lava that seemed to behave as if mindless animals adherent to it's maker's will. The will to destroy and slaughter all those that dare strike upon his foes.

As Interitus continued to speak, the molten rock that hardened into obsidian started to form brute giants, towering over the lava men. Letting out a vicious roar of life. The next that came from the rituals was a crude formation, of a Lava Leviathan. Ancient creatures formed by the First Sith capable of draining the life energy from its victims. Truly a start to an army worthy to be commanded by the Dread Lord. Interitus marveled at his work so for, a smirk appearing on his lips at how the false empire would soon meet its end under the might of the True Sith.

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Kascalion Giedfield | Darth Interitus | Vostok Grauv | Darth Luminoth | Kreg Jare | Mlow Eman'outther | Inon

​

The black stone echoed his footsteps as he marched towards his destiny. He had finally found the coming Sith'ari, the man who would lead the Sith back into a glorious age unseen for millennia. In each hand were two chains, each leashed to an offering for his new liege. Sniveling humans he had plucked from the Sith Empire. They had begged prayers to their Emperor, but he never came to their aid. The Emperor of the Sith was no god.

Vinaze was going to make these men servants of the true Dark Lord of the Sith. They were already on their way to perfection. They no longer hungered for food and water, but for the dark side. They no longer preyed to their Emperor, but to the Dread Lord. Their shuffling footsteps formed a backing symphony to the perfectly timed cadence of Vinaze's boots.

The darkness was all consuming here and every stone resonated with dark energy that sung to him. Of course this was the place where he would find the Sith'ari. The ruined city of Vitar Gol was going to the be the birth place of a new Sith Order and at the base of the Autarch's golden throne, it began.

He knelt before the Sith'ari, the man he had witnesses in his dreams. His visions were coming into reality. As he knelt, he looked at the larger than life figure and spoke his piece.

"You are the Sith'ari that I have foreseen, who I have come far to follow. You are not the first I have followed who wished to see the Sith reborn from the stagnation of the Empire, but I do hope you are the last. I am Darth Vinaze of Umbara, Dathomir, and most recently Exegol, and I have sworn vengeance on those who have wronged our people, those who would deny us the galaxy that we deserve. I bring a simple gift before you. These four fools in chains have chosen to serve Darth Carnifex. I will rectify the error of their ways and they will serve you."

Vinaze stood and turned to his captives. They were delirious no doubt from the intoxicating power of the darkness that swirled around them. It did not matter if they knew what was about to come of them, nor did it matter if they suffered. They were merely tools for Vinaze to use in crafting his final product. As he stood over them with his distorted, wiry frame, he began to speak words of ancient Sith that served as both their funeral rites and the instrument of their transformation.

As he spoke, they began to pale, then bloat. They huddled together as if desperately hoping for warmth, as if the warmth was being torn from them. As they huddled, they fused. Their skin began to stick to one another, their muscles intertwining. They did not even scream until the transformation was finished, when the beast they had become let out a sickening roar.

Spoiler: Pic

"This beast, my lord, will serve as the backbone of your dreaded army. Your enemies will cower at the sight of it, and then they will be consumed. Alas, there are others who wish to regale you with their creations. I bid you farewell, Dread Autarch, but the creation of monsters is a pursuit that is never finished and I must see to it." Vinaze bowed the the Sith'ari, then turned and walked from the hall. In the courtyard the true task would begin...

 

[Vora Kaar]

​

Of all those who came forward of this rising of an Ascendancy, it was proposed the Sith'ari of legend presented themselves to others. So that the Sith could rise. Yet, there was an Empire on the doorsteps of the New Imperial Order, just after they slaughtered Vora's brothers and sisters of the Keepers. A growing Sect of Sith who sought to bring an end to the Sith Empire that grew stagnant. And their "Dark Lord of the Sith" who sat upon the throne built of lies and false strength. While Kaar did seek out other Sith who may be against this Empire, All it seemed to do was once more, bring all others under the heel of one stronger within the force. Proclaiming as a Sith'ari.

Vora just shook my head at others who joined. Guards around the man, even his own weapons with him upon the throne. This new lord of the Sith knew that others would question his rule. Prepared for it. While Vora was not fond of any Sith'ari attempting to claim that title, but also attempting to create an army for themselves without using their own strength to bring forth the Sith.

As a rather... disgusting individual walked forward, Vora realized they knew who they were. They were an old face but twisted and malformed into a monster. They were no longer the man Kaar had known. Bringing forth a Sithspawn. Proclaiming that this new individual would be the one of Legend.

A scoff came from behind the ebony helmet with folded arms.

"I pity any who believe the Sith'ari will bring about a golden age without others of our kind being killed."

The Lord of Anger and Strength look to this throne. Taking a clenched fist, and gently tapping it to the blackened dome upon his head, Vora then pointed to the man who claimed to be above all. Wishing for followers to just blindly accept him.

"I saw no coup, no usurped throne. One made in self desires and ambitions. Power within the force is not the key to being a Ruler of Legend. You know this."

Indicating the monstrosity that someone else had decided to bring forth, a Sithspawn of a creature if Vora knew any better.

"With all disrespect, but who died and made you king?"

Kascalion Giedfield Darth Interitus Darth Vinaze