Private The Shrillest Song

[Zoyût]

Fear not to plumb the depths of the unfathomable...
​

The frozen ediface of an ancient temple stood like a monolith in the howling snowbound valleys of Ziost. An ancient world inextricably linked to the Sith, it is devoid of life after the ancient Emperor Vitiate consumed the world to fuel his rebirth. Openly hostile to life since then, the only thing that remained behind were the Sithspawn that Vitiate created, and something much more sinister than the mindless beasts that roared with the winds.

In the opening where the stairs descended into an unknown darkness, there seemed to be no light, not even that which would have bent through the entryway's shadows. It was as if there was something at work that repelled it, which only drew those curious and unshakable in. Beyond the threshold of the stairwell the howling winds were muted fully. Sound did not penetrate this unnatural darkness, and one that looked behind them would see that the gales did not subside, but rather persisted.

There was a sudden light, dim, and unnatural. Violet torches ignited along the walls as those who entered the temple progressed further down the stairs. No normal sconces held them, but rather once living beings now frozen in agony and terror served as the torchbearers for travellers. The scent of blood and bile, metallic and acrid, filled the air as the light danced off the deep channels adjacent to the stairs. A vile ichor flowed slowly, like a melted jam that slowly formed a macabre stream that progressed down the stairs.

From the opening of where the stairs end, torchlight brightened up to reveal that the room itself was a massive domed temple. Frozen dead were prostrate before the altar in positions of worship. The dias upon which the altar rested was where all the channels flowing with ichor ended. The liquid itself flowed unnaturally up the dias itself, and formed a sickening pool where the scent of death lingered heavy on the air. Living figures, robed in the darkness and revealing nothing of themselves filed in from the left and right side of the room where the altar ended and assumed the empty positions where worshippers were lacking.

The pool itself lurched with a sickening noise. As the chanting of the robed figures carried and echoed, a chilling figure rose from the vile ichor. It was an unnaturally tall figure, with limbs that were long in the extreme. The body was thin, dangerously so, and as the violet torchlight danced the shimmer of metal shone on the body before it dulled into the flesh. There appeared to be no separation between metal and flesh, and where the two met seemed to be a constant source of pain. Observers could not that once the figure fully rose, the slick sheen of gore ran off freely. Her arms raised outright, and with it so too did the putrid blood until it was formed above her in a singular open eye. "A supplicant appears..." said a voice so loud that is pressed into the mind. No audible sound came, but the chorus of spoken word went direct to the mind. Each figure, dead and living, had moved to look at the figure that entered the temple.

In the darkened corners, the true figure hid, cloaked in the Force and using this illusion to interact with the stranger. Her cultists played their part perfectly, as did the failed supplicants that had made up the macabre congregation. She watched, and waited. Any sign of outward hostility that threatened to do harm to her followers would be met with swift and brutal retribution from the shadows.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Ziost was a dangerous world to visit, given the state of the galaxy. Were it not for the healthy supply of civilian ships and codes he wouldn't have been able to make through Ashlan space at all, let alone to the planet itself. Normally he stayed far and away from the former Sith-Imperial worlds, more out of necessity than anything else, but supposedly there was something on the world that he could not ignore. Rumors of some temple hidden in the snowy reaches of the world, whispers of potential power in the realm of the body itself, it was worth the risk of upsetting some Jedi if it was real.

His shuttle landed not far from the temple, shrouded in the shadow that the monument cast upon the snow-covered ground of the valley that encompassed it. The Knight stepped onto the surface of Ziost for the first time in years and began his march to the temple entrance. He had little time for reminiscing at the moment. Better to get on with his investigation.

There was no hesitation, even without light, as he made his forward and down the stairs that led into the temple's depths. His enhanced eyes would give him just barely enough vision to keep him from tripping up and falling down them after all. Given the nature of the temple he doubted the darkness would easily be swept aside by a flashlight or even his lightsaber anyhow, the Dark Side had a way of clouding vision when it wanted to. Thankfully though his trek through the darkness would eventually give way to light.

Frozen statues held the odd violet lights in their hands, a dreadful odor of gore evident even through his helmet's filters, all making a display of decay and death that was far more off-putting than any temple he had visited before. Most temples were tombs of course, with plenty of decayed bodies and evidence of torture and sacrifice alike, but this one was different. Far more pungent and vile for a start. Finally though he would arrive at what he guessed to be the main area, given the size of the room and appearance of an altar and worshippers.

He cautiously moved forward into the temple, his gaze following the streams up to the dais. Alisteri could sense something within in the pool before she revealed herself, his stride pausing as he watched her rise up from the gore in morbid curiosity. The worshippers were quickly forgotten by him as he straightened up in response to the voice. It was odd, not spoken and yet very dominant and loud, but he would not be deterred. He hadn't come all this way just be ran off now. Slowly, much like one would approach a feral beast, he began walking forward again as he approached the figure in the pool. She appeared to be the center of attention after all.

"I wouldn't say supplicant." His voice in comparison was insignificant yet resolute. "I have come to see if the rumors and whispers of this place were true. I was unaware that it was...." His gaze shifted to the worshippers for a moment before returning to the central figure. "...occupied and active. I do hope I'm not intruding."

Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

All at once, the pool reverted into itself. Nothing remained even of the figure that once stood there. The worshippers had vanished along with the walking dead, but whispers remained. Maddened by the darkness, they spoke, but a voice more singular and powerful rose above the rest to press itself upon the mind of the visitor. "There are no intruders to this temple, only those that have come with a singular purpose. Whether your purpose is to be a sacrifice or a supplicant, remains to be seen..." she said, having moved silently to stand behind him. Should he turn on his heels, she would vanish away from his vision. Zoyôt was testing his mind and will now, to see if he had the fortitude to stand to her scrutiny.

Eyes peered from the dark depths within the now pitch black tomb. Only brief sounds were made, and those that were made were done so because Zoyôt willed them to happen. All of them as if metal against stone, and none of them where she was presently standing. An illusory figure from the darkness stood before him at his own eye level, her face, or what remained of it after the grafting placed the massive metal headpiece to her skull. Up close her skin was a mess of burns, scars, and seeping wounds. As she grinned her teeth were bared sharp and vicious, "Do you know fear? Do you know loss? she asked, the figure lashing out only to vanish before ever making impact with anything. She was pressing upon him, searching his mind for his greatest fears that she might know how to push him to his breaking point.

The mind games proceeded further still, following him as the lights on the floor seemed to indicate where he was to go in this temple. It was a test, and whether he proceeded with it determined her next course of action. Only those who persevered through the depths of this frozen mausoleum could hope to learn the secrets she offered.

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Suddenly the scenery had shifted and he muttered a curse under his breath, his head snapping around as his hand rested on his lightsaber at his hip. He was seemingly alone now, but he could still hear voices of some sort. Some illusion perhaps? Or maybe the first scene was an illusion and this was reality, it was difficult to say at the moment. It hardly mattered anyway. "Peer at me all you like, I am no sacrifice." Regardless of where he looked or how quickly he turned he still failed to spot her anywhere. There was a chance that she wasn't even close by at all, and any sounds that might indicate that she were were mere illusions themselves. She was toying with him it would seem, but to what end?

The strange noises only added to his confusion and the dangerous atmosphere, but he was not deterred. His gaze warily landed on the figure emerging from the darkness, his grip around the hilt of his weapon tightening. Before he responded she lashed out and he ignited his lightsaber, swinging at nothing but thin air despite her having been there a moment before. "I know plenty of both. And I know how to cause them as well." The Knight nearly growled out the response in frustration.

Finally the darkness gave way to reveal lights along the floor as if to leave him some sort of trail or path to follow. "A trail to the slaughterhouse?" He didn't expect nor wait for a response. Holding his weapon across his front in defense, he moved along the path slowly and cautiously. There was little point in fumbling around in the dark in an attempt to locate the exit after all.

Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

"Only if that is your desire..." the voice said, speaking directly into his left ear without ever appearing once more. Zoyôt was taking the role of the observer and the antagonist as he proceeded through the darkness. The pathway narrowed considerably as it carried on; so much so that to pass through the man would have to start moving sideways and find a way through that did not end with his suffocation. It was a seemingly interminable passage, the length of which only bore on and on the more compressed the body became. Oxygen would be difficult to come by, and those with a predisposition to claustrophobic reactions would come to this point and no further. There were signs of struggles in this area that indicated just how many had died in this place, and now with the weight of stone compressing on his chest, the spirits of the damned appeared crying out their last. These souls were trapped in this place, forever to live through their terrifying terminal gasps. Each of them had come some distance, only to be consumed by the darkness that lingered at the periphery.

The end was in sight. A light that shone through the darkened corridor heralded the freedom of motion. It was quite often that those in their dying moments took for granted something so simple as breathing. It was a subconscious thing, that nobody was aware of until it become woefully difficult to do so. The truth of the matter was much more simple. When deprived of oxygen, the mind could further hallucinate, which would further obfuscate what was and was not real. Only once he reached the precipice of death and faced it would she elucidate further on what he must face to earn her favor. In this temple, she was the unbowed mistress, and he was merely the plaything with which she now toyed. He had already earned some regard as he did not flee in terror from the illusory congregation, but that was the easiest task, and more lay before him.

 

[Darth Strosius]

He didn't even bother trying to respond or find look for her as she spoke, just dismissing it as another in the long line of illusions. So long as she didn't lash out at him in some way he doubted that mere words were worth watching out for. While no stranger to crawling though tight air vents, and without much claustrophobia at all, the narrowing of the passage was still concerning. It marked a very real and physical change as opposed to random voices and noises or intangible images.

When he inevitably had to twist sideways just to move forward, the Knight deactivated his weapon and clipped it back onto his belt before he did so. Given how the passage continued to narrow and entrap his body against the walls he wouldn't be able to use it properly anyway. His sliding between the walls became slower and more exhaustive as he passed by the macabre signs of struggle and ignored how the walls compressed him. There were few injuries that he couldn't heal from with enough time. All he had to do first was get through and out of the trap that this passage seemed to be, no matter how much his muscles demanded him to stop or go back.

The light was a good sign, but not one that he let distract him. Even if the light was real it may not herald the opening that would end the painful compression. Evidently he wasn't the first that had made their way through the passage and he wasn't about to join the casualty list that the walls had no doubt racked up. He had no intent of stopping his movement until he could spread his arms out wide once more, light or no light.

Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

The end of the passage came after what felt like an eternity of breathless suffering. A new room where the same violet fires burned opened up at the end of the tunnel where one now had the freedom to breathe but not to move. There was very little space from where the confined could exit the compressed space and what appeared to be an interminable fall into a darkened abyss. No light could reveal the bottom of that pit, and the method by which one crossed it was over pillars which extended upright into the unknown.

Zoyôt's face appeared behind the man, formed out of the ice covering the stone, "Fear of the unknown is what drives us forward. We all seek to make ourselves more powerful, but so many more still lack the stomach to do what must be done to achieve greater power. By traversing the darkness we come closer to the truth of existence, so long as we master the fear of loss of the self that prevents us from pushing ever onward." she said, speaking some of her philosophy as was earned by succeeding in surviving the breathless passage before. He had plenty of time to ruminate on this thought as she observed his progress.

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Finally, after what had seemed like hours of sliding through the crushing passage, there was an opening. Unfortunately for him, this one appeared far too open whereas the prior had been far too confined. The Knight peered down into the seemingly endless abyss below and clicked his tongue at the sight. Temples and their bottomless pits, it seemed like each one had one. His attention and gaze snapped back to the stone now behind him as he heard the voice of his apparent hostess, giving the icy visage a slight glare.

"To become a Sith is to become someone new. To burn away that which you once were, weak and feeble, and embrace who you can become. You cannot fear losing yourself if it is that very self that you are becoming through your power." Not the most eloquent way of putting it, but he was fairly certain that he had a rib still poking into his lung somewhere. Without much further conversation he reared back and leapt to the first pillar, landing on it with relative ease before preparing to make the next jump. "Any who fear what they become with power are fools who do not know themselves, and thus are not yet Sith in nature."

Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

"Is the new self not just another chain we willingly bind to ourselves? Do we not retain identity as a grounding factor? There is more to merely shedding weaknesses to become more powerful. There is something reductive about labelling Sith identity as the singular pursuit of power. It is an abstract that is difficult to quantify. What is power? Is it the ability to kill? Anybody can kill, and thus anybody could wield that power. Those who plumb the depths of the Dark Side for answers to the great mystery of power do so, subconsciously knowing that the experiences that molded them into seekers of that power define them. Who you were, and who you are, are one and the same. What you choose to call yourself is the only true difference in the end, as you pursue your singular goal." Zoyôt said, offering thought experiments that might distract the mind from what the body was doing. She had seen enough of what purist thinking did, and opted herself to not be closed off to anything in the Force. There were powers the Dark Side offered that no Jedi would embrace, but likewise there were powers the Jedi knew that the Sith could equally embrace and become powerful in their own right. To discount something small or seen as forbidden was willingly binding another chain to oneself.

Her silhouette followed the man on his journey and continued, "The Jedi stand to oppose the Sith on the principle that there is only one path to power and knowledge in the Force. They do this, knowing that they wilingly deny themselves this knowledge. It becomes more than just a superficial philosophical difference, but a fundament in thinking. We who choose to remain open to the Dark Side liberate ourselves of that chain. Our minds remain open, but in doing so some Sith have become utterly closed to the Jedi mind. Each aspect of the Force cannot exist without one another. Its power waxes and wanes. This presents us with a single universal truth that neither Jedi nor Sith seem to embrace fully. There is only the Force." She said, watching carefully even as his trek is mirrored by those that had failed before him. There were fewer silhouettes from the past here. Those that made it past the crushingly small passage seemed to push further on, but some slipped and apparently fell into the depths below. In truth, the pit itself was merely three feet deep but the lack of light played with the mind to create the illusion of depth. It was this unknown depth that forced this cautious approach, and allowed fear to enter the mind and work its deliterious wonders.

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

As he slowly and carefully made his way across the pillars, doing his best to listen as the temple's mistress spoke yet at the same time trying to focus on planting his feet firmly on one pillar after another. Despite him being agile, far more than the human that he had once been, the Knight would not be risky or careless. Pride and arrogance were far too easy to exploit and he would not be made a victim of them. "Is that how you view it, lady in the dark? Do you truly think yourself the same person as you were before you became what you are now? Do you believe that power hasn't changed you? Because I most certainly believe it has changed me."

The masked man leapt to the next pillar and barely managed to get a proper footing this time, stumbling forward and catching himself with half of his foot hanging off the edge as he rebalanced. "Power is the means by which we exist and survive. A method, a knowledge, call it what you like. Regardless I am not the same being I once was before I was gifted this power by the Dark Side, I can't be. Now I am someone that can stand on their own and has the ability to save and destroy in equal measure, before I was nothing and would have stayed nothing were it not for the intervention of the Force." From a slave to a Knight, a harsh journey.

"Finally we have an agreement then, that the Force is singular and enigmatic." Fickle was an apt description as well, but not one he used. Another leap and landing, one after another as the abyss below sat like the open maw of some great beast. "But I must agree with such closeminded Sith on the matter of the Jedi. They have nothing to teach for they have learned nothing, binding themselves and denying what they are. Despicable cowards and self-righteous butchers the lot of them." There was no room in the galaxy for the Jedi in his opinion, they were far too destructive and yet had gained a comfortable position as the saviors of the people. One that they hadn't earned but rather inherited.

A disgusting legacy was all that the Jedi were. "Yet the Sith are not the paragons of the Force that they should be. Amidst our ranks sit despots and selfish monsters, working for none but themselves." Now that was a topic that he knew plenty of. "But in time all corruption fades and is dispersed, or is cut out and set ablaze. Such is the will of the Force." Onwards from pillar to pillar he kept moving, not content to stop and lecture into the void.

Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

The pillars came to an end at an open platform, much more safe and stable than the crossing seemed to be. It offered the surety of firm footfalls and no true risk of being taken by the abyss. Before him was a massive stone door, and etched into the stone were runes from the ancient Sith language, a language that Zoyôt still spoke and kept alive with her followers. The chanting of the chorus came again, steady, and dissonant, and with it the runes lit up as well.

It as the Rune of Understanding that was the first to emit fully, and with it a power in the Force reached out to latch onto the man's mind with the intent to cloud his judgment and make clarity of thought a strain. It was meant now as a test of will, and also the first time Zoyôt directly interacted with the man by working to seed doubt and fear by exploiting that which he kept hidden in the recesses of his mind. Whatever fears he held deeply to himself, she would find if she had to break his mind. "We must not discredit the Jedi as they stand in opposition to the Dark Side. They have survived this long not by good fortune, but because they too can become powerful in their own right. Even as they deny the Dark Side they must be respected as adversaries on equal footing, lest we fall into the trap of arrogance and perish like so many before us. To undestand and defeat a Jedi, one must be ready to accept that the Jedi are a threat to those who seek knowledge as we do. We owe it to ourselves as seekers of power to not be brought low by our own hubris."

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

His leaping and travelling along the pillars remained steady and careful even as he neared the platform, not relaxing until his feet were resting on the open platform and the abyss was behind him. The Knight rolled his shoulders and sighed in relief as his gaze ran across the large door before him. He could pick out a few familiar words and letters along the door but he would have to properly read over it for some time before he got the full meaning behind any of it. Before he could set about deciphering the door however, chanting reached his ears and runes lit up alongside them That was far from a good sign in any sense of the word.

Suddenly a very persistent and clouding force blanket his mind like a thick fog, one of his hands moving up to clutch his head as he reeled from the sensation. His insecurities were easy to find, self-doubt especially being a fresh wound given what had transpired during his knighting. Killing off the last remnants of your past self tended to do that. "Fools is what they are." He hissed out between clenched teeth as his eyes screwed shut and his inexperienced mind and willpower battled against the probing.

It was difficult to form a coherent response, but he refused to submit and be toyed with. "Any fool can kill or maim, their strength of arms and deadly training makes them merely an obstacle to be conquered. A test." Tests and trials, struggle and strife, such was the way of the galaxy. Or so it had been for him at any rate. Comfort was fleeting, validation even less so, and yet to him the Jedi had both in spades. A strange dichotomy, to be so scornful and hateful of them and yet to envy what they possessed. "Their light will be extinguished one day, for good. Their pathetic chained beliefs shall be their destruction, just as our hubris has destroyed many like us."

Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

"What makes you think after twenty-five thousand years that the conflict between the Dark Side and the Light will end? Do you not see that your power only exists because you feel driven to hate them? To take what they have for yourself? The Jedi are essential to the existence of the Sith. Without one another we are nothing. We are an ever changing and ever growing pair in an eternal dance. One neither taking over the other, nor deferring to the other. Though influences wax and wane with time, eventually the equilibrium returns, and nothing that you or I do will ever be greater than the power of the Force to find balance in itself." She said, impressing upon him this thought, even as she pushed his fears from subconscious to the forefront. His mind was hers to open up and influence now that he had succumbed to her power.

As quickly as it came, a secondary rune began to grow, and from it a physical influence impressed upon him that he must drop to hs knees. It was the Rune of Suplication, and it was meant to fully bow the figure that had made it to the door. "Though we are able to bend the Force to our whim, we must always remain ever humble to its awe inspiring power. Even in the hands of the Jedi, the Force and crush and destroy, just as it can preserve and save. Like we Sith, they pursue understanding through meditation, through inner turmoil, and ultimately, through complete submission to the powers that guide the galaxy. We may be able to temporarily supplant these powers for our own motives, but nothing escapes the Force in the end. Even the great Emperor Vitiate passed into the Force. No matter how powerful he became, he was still just a mortal man. We are the architects of our destiny, but it is by the will of the Force that we exist in the first place. Never, ever, forget that, lest your pursuit of power consume you from the inside out."

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

"I was a Sith before I knew that the Jedi were little more than fragmented myths and childhood stories, I have seen and known those who have never once met one and yet are strong with the Dark Side." He could hardly credit the Jedi Order with anything but their body count. The ancient struggle between the the Jedi and the Sith merely proved how self-destructive the Sith could become. "The Jedi are hardly necessary, they are little more than a test that we must overcome. When the last light is swallowed by the Sith, the Force shall rejoice and be rid of the parasites that cling to the Light Side as their crutch. It matters little how long it takes, it will happen one day. It has to."

While preoccupied with fighting off the probing grasp on his mind, the Knight didn't notice the additional rune lighting up. He did certainly notice the very physical pressure on his body in addition to the mental one. "Humbleness is rare in the Sith of today." His teeth gritted and ground together as he did his best to stay standing, his entire from starting to shake and stumble as he momentarily gasped for air. It wasn't constricting like the walls had been but it was an undeniable solid weight literally pressing him down to the floor. "But I am different, for I am a servant of the Force. I eagerly await the day of my true understanding of its nature and blessings, whether that be upon my deathbed or in my library."

Despite his efforts his knees gave out and he let loose a groan of pain as they hit the floor. "The will of the Force cannot be denied, I have seen the destruction caused in the wake of such attempts. There is no dismissal of such a pivotal and powerful will." That was something that many Sith struggled with. To throw off all of their worldly chains just to be tied to the Force, most rejected that reality. They had a habit of dying violently as a result, or causing death to those around them due to their own selfish nature.

Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

The final rune became active as he spoke. Zoyôt continued to impress her will upon him until the light had fully given way to darkness and the only thing visible in the room was the very same runic inscriptions that caused his suffering. She channeled her will through them. It was the last one that washed it all away in a flood of cleansing energy. It was the same type of healing that the Jedi used to alleviate the suffering of those they tended to protect. It was the kind of calming presence that stood in juxtaposition to the previous feeling of agonizing submission.

As if baptized by the pain and washed anew by the freeing force she gave to him, Zoyôt opened the runed door and stood before the man. It was truly her physical form this time. She raised one hand above, and called to the congregants that rose from the pillars he crossed as the room lit up fully. "Rejoice, celebrants, another has finally faced the trial and succeeded. Of body, mind, and spirit, he has succeeded where many others have failed. He is born anew among us, and can be counted as a peer to our following. May he carry forward with what he has gained here today."

As if on command the crowd chanted, a dark power filling the room as they rejoiced in the Dark Side to welcome their new peer. The hauntingly tall woman then spoke downward to the man who had come to her in a voice that only he may hear, "Follow me, to the inner sanctum. Once you are grafted the ritual will be complete and you will be a supplicant no more, but an initiate prepared to learn more from the mysteries of pain. I am pleased to see that you survived. Many others had their minds shattered by the experience. You have much to learn still, but you have made it this far."

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Between the physical and mental pressures that brought him low, the darkening of the chamber was hardly noticed or concerning. All the Knight's focus was on trying to beat back and resist that which only seemed to press him into the ground. And then came the relief. A sigh escaped him as the forces suddenly fled and were replaced by a moment of calm and almost relaxing feeling. Not that he intended to let his guard down just yet of course, he doubted that his little adventure would be over with so quickly.

The Knight rose back to his feet and caught his breath as the large door opened, his gaze fixed on the figure awaiting him. For a moment he wasn't fully certain whether she was real or not this time. He doubted the answer really mattered at the moment. At the sound of the chanting he glanced back at what had been a dark abyss and was only slightly surprised to see the crowd there. He briefly wondered if any of the tests had been deadly at all, if the markings and signs of struggle were merely fabrications meant to demoralize.

Regardless Alisteri peered up at the woman as she spoke again, tilting his head in confusion and slight concern at her words. "Grafted? I suppose that means exactly what I believe it to mean doesn't it?" Admittedly that was the whole reason that he had journeyed back to Ziost in search of the temple at all, but he was hesitant to be subjected to something unfamiliar. Not to mention permanent.

Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

"Use what I grant to you as you see fit. But do not forget to remain ever cognizant of the threat a Jedi poses to you. That which I bestow upon you will forever mark you as Sithspawn." She cautioned, turning to enter the chamber from whence she had emerged. The tall woman moved with an almost ethereal quality. It was as if she was there, but also not. Nary a sound was made by a footfall; not even a heavy breath. Zoyôt was a being of unsettling grace in spite of her size and build. To the uninitiated or unfamiliar she looked an easy target for aggressive Sith, but looks were deceiving and she was more than capable of defending herself.

The chamber had an altar-like table upon which several tools were resting. They looked ancient and used. Zoyôt took the volcanic glass of the blade and sliced from her body a strip of flesh. Not a sound nor any hesitation in the action could be seen. She was innured to the pain response and could control herself to a remarkable degree. The skin was dropped into a mortar and pestle, and followed by that were what appeared to be berried, bone fragments, and blood. She chanted freely in the Sith tongue, the light in the room dimming in response to the deep darkness that emanated from the powerful words she uttered. It was ritualistic to the extreme, but one could not deny the presence and majesty of such mastery of the Dark SIde.

She turned toward the entrant, and with the material from the mortar and pestle now held aloft in the Force, she moved it toward him in order to place it upon his face beneath the mask. Fluid control was nothing to her, as she worked in blood so frequently. "Through my flesh and blood will you be born anew." and with that the pristine white plating of the cultists hovered before him. "Once you step into the plates, never again can they be removed. From duranium to blood and bone, your body will be a conduit of pain and misery. Harness this power and push the limits of your mortal figure. Only then can the true revelations of the Dark Side be understood."

 

[Darth Strosius]

Any warning or caution that the tall woman offered was almost wholly swept aside at the mere word Sithspawn. That was what he had come here for, what he had been seeking over many months now. An enlightenment into bending one's own life and nature with that of the Dark Side itself. He couldn't possibly allow himself to go back on such a proposition now. Besides, the Jedi posed many threats already, Alisteri wasn't concerned with another being added to the list. If anything it would only help to further cement the wrath and need for revenge that their mere existence caused him.

The Knight eagerly followed behind the woman, even if he had no idea of where it was she was leading him. There was still a lingering doubt on whether or not she was real at all or just another illusion but either way it hardly mattered in his mind. If she was being honest then he would have what he had came here for and then could be on his way back with new knowledge and enlightenment in his grasp. The altar and the tools upon it drew his eye immediately as he glanced over the chamber that they had arrived in. He hardly even winced as she carved off a piece of her flesh and began some ritual that he had little understanding of. Rather, he was intently watching the spectacle.

Sheer awe exuded from him as he watched the strange fluid flow through the air right towards him, such a power being just a foreign as the woman using it. For a moment he hesitated as the liquid slid underneath his mask and flowed onto his face. Only a moment. Then the scent hit him and set his body alight, the familiar smell and taste of blood was welcome and it brought with it a new and entrancing energy. "I already know well the depths of pain and misery. I shall master this power soon enough." Without hesitation he stepped into the plates and rolled his shoulders. "Do what you will."


Zoyût

 

[Zoyût]

There was something about his candour and eagerness that could be appreciated. Unfortunately, he knew not the depths of agony this procedure would put him through. That being said, she committed to using her power to create a wholly new being once more. Dark violet energy emanated from her and each moment the room darkened until the only thing visible to her subject was the glint of metal from her own body shining in response to the dancing of the profane energies she channeled.

Words of power were uttered, each one lashing out at one of the plates, imbuing it with her power. All at once the metal plating thrust itself upon him. The dagger-like protrusions on the interior dug into flesh and ultimately bone. From there the alchemical process truly began. Zoyôt impressed upon his body and mind further still, changing at the atomic level the very essence of his skeletal structure. These plates then began to graft into his skeleton at the contact points, marking them as permanent additions to his figure that could not be removed bar the entire amputation of the afflicted limb.

As the grim work drew to a close, the time spent for him must have felt as an eternity of suffering. She remembered when she faced the same ritual. Her life continued to pass unfettered by the bonds of time. It was merely the perceptions of a mind overwhelmed by the purest agony she had ever experienced. Each day she chased that same feeling, and put her all into it. Pain was her paint and live bodies were the canvas upon which she worked. With the final words of power, a foul violet energy fell from the ceiling as a pillar, engulfing the body of her subject and finalizing the process in the ultimate culmination of her research.

The blood she had used to perform the initial stages of the ritual had sunken into the pores of his body. This was her true benefit to performing this on him. Whereas he gained more power himself, she now had a conduit through which she could perceive things away from Ziost. If tested, he would now be shown to bear blood relation to her, as she had ultimately warped him right down to his DNA. She had no control over him, but she could be contacted at any time now by him through meditation and likewise she could reach out to him in the Force as well. "Welcome, Acolyte, to my dark communion. May you never forget your place in the galaxy, and always strive to improve it. Power is its own reward. Go forth now, and take what is yours without fear, for I am now always with you to guide you in your hour of need."

 

[Darth Strosius]

Despite a growing sense of dread in the back of his mind, Alisteri still observed the ritual intently and refused to budge or move away from it. He had come far to learn of Sithspawn and their various methods of creation. Now he had the opportunity to learn firsthand what such a transformation was like, he couldn't resist it. No matter the cost or pain that he would be in for he refused to turn back now when he was so close to his goal. Perhaps he should have second-guessed himself after all.

For when the process began it didn't take long for the Sith to crumple and struggle under the intense pain, any resolve or stubbornness quickly gave way to screams and curses as he felt the plates dig through his skin and bone. He had lost limbs before, been crushed and shot at, but never had he experienced something so undeniably painful as the ritual that he was undergoing now. It felt like his skeleton itself was being tortured, being grafted and changed by the plates and the ritual to the point that his own bones felt unrecognizable for a few moments amidst the pain.

Fortunately for him though, he was not a mere Human even before the ritual. As it drew to a close and the blood of his torturer seeped into his body, his Sangnir physiology kicked into motion and began rapidly healing him with the potent blood of a Force User. Of course he was still left on the ground, having dug what appeared like very shallow claw marks into the ground beneath him as he panted and gasped in response to the alleviation of the pain. And yet despite the pain still clouding his mind, a part of him felt at peace. Ultimately he had gained something from the pain and suffering, and he knew it.

Alisteri shakily pulled himself to his feet, his limbs almost trembling as he flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders when he was standing again. He felt different and yet at the same time familiar, as if nothing had changed or everything had changed all at once. What an odd sensation it was, but one that he preferred greatly to the pain that had preceded it. "...Thank you." Rather unusually for him, he had no more pleasantries or questions at the moment. Instead he was far too focused on making his way out of the chamber and then out of the temple itself. He needed time to reflect on what had just happened, on what he was now.

Zoyût