Uninvited Guests

[Ras'kala'han]

The Kanz Sector​

Open Space​

You don't get to sleep for four millennia without learning a thing or two about hunger - but hunger had been a part of Antherion's life since the beginning. Since his father had looked on his unworthy son, and decided to make something of him. Since his mother failed to protect him, and abandoned him. Most likely sooner, because nothing that either of them could have done would have extinguished the spark of ambition - though in their foolishness, they had given him the power to follow it.

He played games with them. Pulled puppet strings. His mother formed a close bond with a trusted, anonymous contact - and was lured into making a single, deadly mistake that lead to her death at the hands of one of her dogged enemies. His father's murder of his mother had made an orphan of the half-sister he would train to kill him.

The half-sister who would imprison him to rot, who would die without ever seeing his face. Her name was forgotten in the chaos of history... and she would be happier that way. Damn her. The only person ever to equal his natural Force potential, the only one to exceed it, and she turned against him on the cusp of their conquest.

"Hungry." The Nikto thug mumbled, slumping in the corner of his stolen starship, nursing its arm - broken, entirely untreated, a lingering consequence of when it had tried to eat him alive as he had wandered the steppes of Zigoola, looking for his old estate. It had been bombed into fine powder. "He's so hungry. I'm so hungry. Feed me."

"Silence." It knew the consequences of disobedience. It fell still.

"Now arriving at Kanz Sector. I strongly advice that you desist in holding this being - the longer you keep him, the higher your sentence will be when you turn yourself into the lawful authorities." You can mind trick a half-wit into giving you his ship, into giving you his protocol droid... but even Antherion couldn't work whatever miracle was needed to make a protocol droid that wasn't insufferable.

"What are your orders?"

The bug-eyed RA droid whirred for a moment in place. "I am to not speak unless to ask for clarification regarding orders, or to offer information regarding any potential danger." Its heuristic processor hummed audibly. "Legal trouble can be a very grave danger."

The Dark Lord sighed, pressing two fingers to his temple. The man himself was soft-faced, with smooth, pale skin - dressed in a simple, brown tunic with a grey cloak thrown over it. His eyes were opalescent pools of gold, his white-blonde hair was cut close to his scalp. His hands shook, his legs were like twigs. He was painfully thin, painfully weak.

"Prepare for another jump in hyperspace. We're closer..." He inhaled, following the presence. Something had driven this Force adept mad - a bond of sorts, a very twisted perversion of it, like the lolling tongue of a Gizka slurping up insects. It was the prey, and he searched for the predator... for the font of perverse darkness, for the upwelling of petty emotion and profound passion.

Perhaps he was also the prey. Or perhaps he would have the ally he sought - the strength he needed, in these trying times. He felt as though guided by an invisible hand, a current steering him in the right direction. He decided his own destiny - though right now, it seemed the Force and Antherion were, for once, in concord.

Follow the stream as it flows to the source and it will lead you to... "Lorrd. What we seek is on Lorrd. Prime the hyperdrive and make it in as few jumps as possible - ask for clarification when we arrive in system."

"Requesting clarification... Isn't kidnapping horribly immoral?"

"Yes. Now let your master concentrate."

As he drew closer to the yawning darkness that guided him, he pursed his lips and closed his eyes, whispering across the rippling of the Force. The one warning that the darkness would receive of the company en route to it.

"Expect me."

--

[member="Darth Voracitos"]

 

[Darth Voracitos]

A disturbance in the force can be caused by a great many things. It was a wonder that the Jedi or Sith in this era of total war and chaos, did not become deaf to them entirely, for the sheer number of them that had been created since the Gulag Plague lifted from the galaxy. They could be caused by massive death, or the death of those closely attached to you, it could be even as mild as plot brewing in the dark, and awaiting those who feels its ripples in the force, in the future. It was often difficult to ascertain exactly what caused these disturbances, except in the case of exceptional deaths, but if one is open and receptive to them, one could ride the ripples and more clearly listen to the whispers of the future carried on them.

When Voracitos had been imprisoned, he himself had become a ripple in the force, reaching out from his mind into the mind of others all across the galaxy... calling them to his perverse disturbance. So dominating was this guiding hand in the force, the pattern of ripples across a lake quickly morphed into ripples across a spider's web, caught in the wind. These unfortunate individuals bonded to the disturbance, we assaulted by memories and thoughts that were not their own, begging them to approach, and became more powerful the closer they became. They were compasses to a great beacon of suffering and all powerful consumption. Many lost their minds, taking every means necessary to find him, to confront the source of their miseries. When one died in their irrational insane actions, Voracitos died within his mind, suffering and feeding from their deaths.

No longer numbed with rage and hunger, Voracitos was tormented by the very magnitude of his own subconscious power... he could feel them... all of them, all at once. The one's who lived but never succeeded where Karn Zhakul had. Scattered across the galaxy, moving in all directions, tired, weary, hungry, and often in pain... pain which Voracitos felt. There were so many webs across the galaxy, so many loose ends to his soul. For the past couple months since Karn had unleashed him, Voracitos had naively thought Karn was the last and only one left bonded to him.

When the ripple came, he became aware of just how wrong he was.

Expect me.

The unfamiliar voice echoed in his head. Who? Who shall he expect? When his vision looked into the clouded future, all he could conjure were images of the past... the days of his early studies in history, the only records to survive, the one's prior to the Golden Age and its descent into the Four Hundred Years of Darkness. Thousands of years back he searched... an era he continued to become unfamiliar with. Unable to predict what rode the ripples of the force upon the disturbance he felt, he attempted something maddening - to look through the eyes of those bonded to him. He began with the familiar, the sight of his apprentice meditating upon the darkside of the force, who became aware of his presence, shattering his concentration. The force guided his sight to a boy on Nar Shaddaa, enslaved to a hutt, he was whipped and Voracitos cried out in his mind to the pain perceived by the child. The pain guided him to a dying Twi'lek, who had been suffering for days to blaster wounds from a misguided attempt to steal a Corellian's ship. The severity of the pain was numb, and the numbness dulled his gaze until he saw from the eyes of a Nikto, whose arm was shattered, eliciting a short physic scream shared by both the Nikto and Voracitos, pushing him out of his gaze.

Breathing heavily, feeling every wound he experienced across the galaxy linger and ache him. Heavy beads of sweat fell from his brow, as he attempted to meditate on the pain. This was furnace of hellish experience, Voracitos would have to learn to endure. He had little means to shatter a bond with another being... not yet. Suddenly, Voracitos realized, he would some day be required to foster these pathetic beings to be rid of these distractions in his power. Voracitos sent his own ripple across the force, magnified by the bonded leaches upon his psyche, acting as voices for his thoughts.

Come with haste.

[member="Antherion"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Come with haste.

"Come with haste. Come with haste. Come with - Ah!" The Nikto choked and sputtered on the syllables, letting out a scream before it lapsed into a bizarre, hacking spasm. For a moment, Antherion thought he was dying - some sort of demonstration of the monstrous power of whatever called to him. No. It was... crying? He would not know it, never know it, never think to remember this Nikto, but it was tears of joy. It was spoken to. It was acknowledged. And, it so wrongly believed, its nightmare was at an end.

"Hm." Antherion put a finger to his lips, tracing it slightly as he let his mind wander to the possibilities and probabilities that his connection to the Force imparted, reaching out. Yes, it was definitely Lorrd. Fuzzy images began to take shape - a slight impression left by the act, as he had left that allowed this reciprocity of contact. They gained clarity.

The vaulting walls of a palace, hanging upside down in the sky, bodies strung from its spire-tops like gallows. A procession of chained slaves, marching into a slobbering, red-lipped maw. A fly drowning in a glass of red wine. A sheet of billowing darkness - a cloak, a banner, then a fin, then a sail in turn... then the long night, covering the skies and blotting out the day as armies marched over conquered husks.

It was... unclear. But it was enough. And if the individual was as eager to attend the meeting that fortune and power had seemed to arrange for them, it was simple enough. Once, Antherion would've scoffed at the notion of the Force, alive and guiding his actions. Now? He had seen what his sister could wield - and what had happened when one tried to break the will of the Force.

That being said, that not breakable is often bent. With a firm, subtle hand, it can be guided.

"So... close. Finally. Close, close, come at once, come at once!" Sobs lapsed into laughs. "I'm finally going to see him! I'll be free! FREE!"

When one creates art, irony is often an excellent medium to work with. To come so far, to come so close, to come in sight of what he sought, only to die in vain? A fitting sendoff for a tool that had exhausted its use. His powers had weakened... but he had enough left in him to drain away the power of this beast. Rekindle a small spark of the Antherion that was, and wear a small aspect of his past self.

So he extended both his palms towards the creature writhing on his floor, and began to draw the Nikto into him. It fell silent for a moment, a look of utter horror on its face - perhaps a brief sense of what was about to take place - then utter serenity. Then utter oblivion, a face without expression or feeling. For the weak, going into the embrace was sweet, swift, and full of bliss.

Antherion inhaled shakily, golden eyes open. He could sense it with acuity now, the great and looming hunger. His surroundings seemed so much more... vivid. He had been looking at this word through the eyes of the past - now was the time to create bonds to the present. The era of the new way was on him, and perhaps with that, he would once more take up the mantle of 'Sith', and join an order of the worthy.

All that remained was to dispose of the vacant husk. He flicked his wrist. It twitched, as though flicked. He flicked his wrist again. It rolled over, unawares. He raised his shaking hand above his head, straightening himself, a grimace on his face, and brought his clawed hand down in a sweep. An arc of violet lightning followed the arc, driving downwards into the pathetic wretch, leaving no time for a last scream or desperate plea - if it had but a lingering bit of vital essence to give it the will to live - as it burnt to smoldering ashes in the span of seconds.

He panted - it had never taken him this much effort before. Then again, after so long, he was lucky to have had one bond remaining - for if the last one slipped to nothing, then he would have lost all his powers and been condemned to the life of a mundane. What had kept him connected? What power still existed that had sustained him for so long, that he had swallowed or partaken of?

For his power had always been the stolen power of others - and though the aeons had curdled it, evaporated it, nearly exhausted it, it was time to replenish it... No matter the consequences, no matter the risk of what bonds he may subsume. For when it was restored, he could at last bring to bear on his foes the wisdom and might of the Old Sith.

"Droid - remain silent. Bring us into Lorrd, travel to the spaceport nearest to any significant structures of governance - and make it known that we are being expected. I will see for myself what awaits us."

He kept pace, readying himself - he would follow whatever reasonable instructions were provided, proceed with haste to the location of the other, meet with the black presence of [member="Darth Voracitos"] as soon as possible - all that was left now was for them to prepare.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Roaring, shattering thunder clashed across the clouds, as the painful rage over came Voracitos, searing the skies with the lightning of his fury exploding from the apex of his palatial towers. The Nikto had felt relief in his life force being pulled out of him, but as with all intangible bonds, some of his own life force flowed through him, and as types of loss do this enraged Voracitos beyond sane recognition. In that insane rage, through all his might in the force he made sure that the essence of his soul began to burn so brightly, that when it passed through the Nikto it began to melt its flesh into dust. When [member="Antherion"] had his fill of strength, the Nikto had become angry looking glowing dust, with the same sort of ambiance as fire embers.

Voracitos, to say the least, was displeased and exhausted by this ordeal, but he had survived the death nonetheless... but he was certainly reminded of it. He hoped every time one of these bond mates died, he would not be met with this kind of ordeal... considering the number of them that exist, this pain could plague him at the most inopportune of times... which was unacceptable by any standard. It would indeed, soon become his mission to find these being who were tied to him, and bring them to his palace for safe keeping. Any rival worth their weight could, if they ever found one, use them as leverage against him to show an opportunity of weakness.

Whoever was coming, clearly had missed out on such an opportunity.

[member="Antherion"] would arrive without anything of note to be worried about. The citizens who were free, effortlessly passed him through, neglecting any form of identification or any papers of immigration, merely moving him along... moving along. Eventually, he would be escorted by Lorrdian Military, then by Gruag belonging to his apprentice, Karn Zhakul, and finally transferred to the presence of twenty one humanoid alchemical monstrosities resurrected from their ashes adorned in black Imperial Guard armor - The Ethereal Slaves. They would silently, and seemingly always staying within his peripheral vision as little more than shadowy wisps, take him all through the Palace of Sin, to his most highest towers. When Antherion arrived, Voracitos would overlook his city from the comfortable confines of his Hover Throne hoisted up by four insect-like legs anchoring him to the ground.

"It is unwise to steal from one's host," The baritone voice was quite by far reaching within the dark abodes of his personal chambers, "It shall be forgiven for now, as we are strangers brought together by means unknown." The four insect legs of his throne ascended with hardly a noise as the Throne turned slowly around to put on display the illustrious violet girth of the Lord of Lorrd, Master of Gluttony, Darth Voracitos - The Corpulent One. "Be aware, stranger, I shall want that tithe back." A golden furious eye cut through the darkness, brighter than the accompanying artificial crimson of his right cybernetic eye.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" He said, with voiced dismissal.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

It was a long walk to Voracitos - Antherion had thought his withered, useless legs would be completely numb with the ravages of time, but he was wrong. They could feel pain just fine. Arm in arm with his protocol droid, flanked by an ever-shifting procession of oddities, culminating with some... things, to put it generously, locked in black armor. He could feel their power, perversion, their annihilated individuality. In his time, the closest he had seen to feats such as this were by the Dread Masters themselves...

...Perhaps these heights were common for Sith of the 'modern' future age. Perhaps he was simply meeting with one of unusual, incredible power. It didn't matter, he was in dangerous waters - great risk, great reward. Pursing his lips and walking arm-in-arm with his protocol droid like some bizarre bridegroom procession, he opted for a touch of caution.

He whispered a quiet, lilting incantation as he ascended the first of several spiral staircases, wiping a touch of sweat that had beaded on his brow. Silently, over the course of five minutes, he erected a mental barrier to safeguard a little privacy for his mind. Once, such a thing would be as easy as reflex to call up. In time, it might be again.

And then - the moment. His host was fleshy, strange, and unabashedly angry. A poor start... but he could perhaps, still work with the situation and get out of here alive. Any harm, even unintentional, would not be forgiven easily, or instantly. He doubted any sort of ingratiating apology would do anything other than make him be considered weak. He had... erred. Somehow. Some critical factor he did not yet grasp... the Nikto. Damn it all. A fault of his own hunger for power may have cost him a truly mighty alliance.

"Dark Lord," he said demurely, his honey-sweet tenor drifting through to [member="Darth Voracitos"] across the distance that separated them. "I would bow before you but..." He indicated the droid holding him aloft. "The years have been unkind to me in my 'old age', so to speak. I stand in the palm of your hand, but if we had the luck of meeting at the height of my glory, and not yours, in my hall on Dromund Kaas, any and all debts would be repaid. Debts must always be repaid. I hope we are not strangers for long - I am Antherion, of a lost House, a forgotten name, and an ended bloodline. I came seeking answers, following a thread of energy connected to a being that I assume was yours somehow, that tried to kill me. To meet a king overlooking a city this lovely? Unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome.

"I won't lie, I didn't come without desire. I am Sith, likewise, albeit... dispossessed. I do want something, and I won't hide my desire because I mean you know ill in spite of it.

"I come to you, poor in everything but knowledge, still stained with the ashes of the fires of resurrection, because I needed a Dark Lord's wisdom. Because I need to know of the Sith of the new age - not the lies of the Jedi, or the hearsay of the holonet, but the truth."

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Voracitos almost thought to use the force to make [member="Antherion"] bow for his insolence, but was bothered by the minor effort it would take to lift his hand to do so. Besides, the Dark Lord was genuinely curious what he had in store for him. It would not be ideal to pulverize and humiliate a potential future resource, or ally. So he listened, and was intrigued by what he heard. A being just shy of being a time traveler, with knowledge of more ancient times. Voracitos had always been skeptical to believe in such outlandish claims, but he had been one to experience first hand the maddening power of ancient Sith Lords who still lived... such as the mysterious [member="Disciple"], who seems to have completely disappeared off the face of the galaxy, or @Darth Hauntress who seemed to struggle to maintain existence but always made a return in one form or another.

It was not so hard to believe that Antherion could be a Sith Lord like that, but he did have a hard time believing that he was. After all, the energy of the decrepit dark side that surrounded figures like those was absolutely paramount to nearly anything else in the room. The presence he felt from Antherion was relatively ordinary, albeit... depleted, empty, hungry. There was a thirst he could sense within him, a desperation that was genuine and not faux, and hinted at a desire of restoration rather than construction of power. There was deep seated knowledge flowing around his mind, but the knowledge lacked substance from a depletion of power, not ability. How he came to be this way, he was curious, and what age he claimed to hail from, he was even more curious of.

"The truth, that is which you seek? Then we desire something in common... though the truth I desire is more of a clarification, an education in how you came to be before me as weak and decrepit as you are, if you had been so mighty in the past." Voracitos mocked and played into Antherion's weakness, shaming him only lightly as expected from one as pompous as the corpulent Dark Lord. "Antherion, is it? In your time, who ruled as the Dark Lord of the Sith? What Jedi Order did you face? How have you survived so long, to stand before me, low and depraved? Answer these, and I shall be satisfied. Once satisfied, I shall answer all that you wish to know." The Dark Lord broke his dour demeanor with small smile, clasping his hands over his belly as he waited patiently, his Throne hovering closer to his subject of discussion.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

All Antherion could see, all he could feel, was darkness and contempt. Grovelling - bravado - empty compliments and flattery, anything that lacked substance, none of these would lift him from these dangerous waters. This was not a man to bandy about with - if this expanse of grease could even be considered a man anymore.

No. Not a man. That which was before him was a thing, an overfull monster warped by his power beyond recognition, glutted on every kind of excess there was. He needed no special insight to see that - all he had to do was see the light shining off its hungry eyes, the darkness shrouding its phantom servants. Pure corruption sat enthroned before him.

He pursed his lips in a brief moment of envy, his mind racing in his concern. He was walking a dangerous line, and he hadn't lied when he had said he was in the palm of the grub-fingered, iron-fisted hand of [member="Darth Voracitos"]. It would be... chillingly casual for this man to break him, to humble him, or to snuff him out.

He formulated a plan to prevent that - and shivered. It was a horrible idea, to awful to contemplate, but if he drew the ire of the man, would be his only recourse - but he decided to stake his essence on the fact that it wouldn't come to that. He kept his composure, however, because Antherion was not a creature of fear. The monster swimming in power and the monster devoid of it were both monsters, and life was a dejarik game to the Sith - in moments where loss threatened, he kept his stillness.

He motioned to his droid, which lowered him to the floor as Voracitos loomed closer, a touch of mockery on the Dark Lord's lips. He had been a fool to think he could go about as in the past, and treat these beings as though they were his peers. His arrogance... His downfall. This would be rectified.

"I have not forgotten my place in these modern times. I'll spare my lord any further distraction, in hopes that we may focus on the matters at hand as opposed to my reckless, grievous offense. In my childhood, the Lordship changed hands rapidly. It passed from Vitiate-called-Valkorion, informally to Darth Marr, then to Darth Acina. The Jedi Order we faced was just that... not Silver Jedi, not new Jedi - simply the Jedi, beneath Grand Master Satele Shan."

These names had once been so vivid to him. He had glimpsed Acina once in the streets, stern and dignified. He had seen holos of Marr addressing crowds of soldiers, read manuscripts describing Vitiate, a being so mythic that it seemed to defy possibility that they shared existence in the Galaxy at any point. They were all gone, meaningless, perhaps forgotten. History was crueler than any death, covering the names of heroes and villains in dust of nothingness.

"My half-sister - my equal and opposite in every regard - turned against me. She locked me in carbonite and set me in orbit around a desolate world, until my discovery."

Antherion bowed his head. The one thing he loathed most - kneeling. Done, willingly, an acknowledgement of truth. His own dignity meant little, this was an act of necessity. His ego was something that had to be laid aside for the sake of hope that he may recapture his lost powers. As he spoke, he methodically lowered his mental defenses, thorough as they were, if flimsy - and opened his mind, concentrating on the memories most relevant. Peering deeper, past the surface, would reveal the disturbing mutilations of sorcery, the true hollowness of Antherion's presence like a yawning and inviting pit, set their by his father to make his weakling son a worthy heir.

"I invite my lord to examine my thoughts, verify the truthfulness of these claims at his leisure. If this satisfies you, do as you will - my end goal is only my lord's satisfaction." He pressed his forehead to the floor, hands before him, his submission absolute. Thaina, let this be your revenge. To have the galaxy, I have lost everything.

All he needed was for his desire to be answered, however, and it would be worth it. Someday. His flame burned low, but as long as it burned the fire would rise.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

"Hmmmm," Voracitos listened intently to the now groveling subject, whom he could only surmise had just now sworn fealty to him. Disgraceful in a Sith Lord of any caliber but a clear defense mechanism utilized in the presence of one he knows he cannot match, this was not out of fear, but out of calculated decision. Voracitos was simultaneously revolted, amused, pleased, and concerned, but above all he respective the move. It was one after his own heart if he were physically capable of such impotence. He would literally die if forced into a state like Antherion's, Voracitos subsisted off of the dark side and the force itself, and without it would succumb to the morbid mortality of his gross body. That was after all, the cause of his first and only death thus far. He would not be inclined to repeat that experience.

Voracitos was pleased, Antherion offered his mind so willingly, and took a great amount of bravery on his part to do so in his presence. It is likely his naivety of Voracitos that this was done, as the horrors he could imbue into his mind were nearly beyond comprehension, and the fat man would have been delighted to peruse every corner of Antherion's mind and implant a tiny bit of hell inside of him. Yet, Voracitos would not do this. The man was already groveling and weak, such torture was unnecessary, and on the whole Voracitos was secretly very tired. Using the force to numb the sensations of his bond-mates took a great strain on the Dark Lord's mind and power, and even to so easily crush Antherion's mind would be an exhausting ordeal for so little pleasure gained. There was little challenge, and no emotional drama between them. It would be anti-climatic and ultimately useless.

"There is no need, though I recognize your fealty. I loath and respect your sensibilities, congratulations." Mockery was no longer on the tongue of Voracitos. A finger rose of his stomach, and an Ethereal Slave seemed to have vanished from the room. Voracitos glared down upon his guest without any particular malignant intent or hostile attitude. A few moments later, a door beyond Antherion would open where a small procession of slaves pushed forward another Hover Throne... an older one, less elaborate than the one Voracitos now sat in, and significantly larger than necessary for the occupant it would host. "You may rise, Antherion." Voracitos raised his eyes to gesture softly to the gift he would lend to Antherion. Voracitos turned, around.

"So then you have awakened long enough to learn of our present enemy, the Silver Jedi. You will find that the Sith Order as it presently stands is not the empire you left behind, though it was as such only a few short years ago... and some decades before then. There is a great amount of knowledge you have missed out upon, old one. The desolation of your Sith Empire and its successor state's, the calculated 'reformation' of the Sith Order into the Rule of Two, the near complete destruction of the Jedi and rise of the Galactic Empire's total control of the galaxy... the invasion of the extra-galactic 'Yuuzhan Vong' and their eventual defeat (at great cost I may add). History during and beyond then becomes convoluted and contradictory, but eventually a 'Golden Age' occurred four hundred years after the Galactic Empire's defeat, for anyone who wasn't a Sith in hiding. Worlds long destroyed were recreated as they once were... then it all fell apart to the single most devastating biological disaster the galaxy has ever known - 'The Gulag Plague'," Voracitos turned slowly to look seriously at Antherion.

"The entire galaxy cut off nearly all ties with itself, and for four hundred years as the plague persisted on trillions of worlds, killing generations of beings, all sense of galactic order was lost. It has only been a few decades now since we have left the Four Hundred Year Darkness, but the galaxy has never before been more chaotic. Knowledge of ancient times is recovered all the time, once thought forever lost, and death now has become... nearly moot. I am living proof of such. I along with many other Sith Lords who opened our worlds to the rest of the galaxy, banded together with a 'Darth Sidic' to create a new reconstituted Sith Empire. It was not long before I had him disposed of, and created an alliance with two powerful Sith Lords, to create our Triumvirate - I, the Pillar of Knowledge, Darth Moridin, the Pillar of Strength, and Disciple, the Pillar of Power. Eventually, I allowed Moridin to ascend to the position of Emperor to wage war against the Mandalorians... who would be bloodlessly succeeded by 'Darth Desmius'," Voracitos said that last name with incredible mockery and hatred, and continued with that tone onward. "Empress Ashin Varanin..." It was clear, he loathed her to an incredulous degree.

"As her 'first among equals' on the Dark Council, I naturally betrayed that worthless Jedi spy and cast her down... unfortunately as I discovered later, she did not parish. Regardless, after some time running the empire through the Council, I was eventually forced into the position of Emperor. It was not to my liking, and apparently, not to the Empire's either. I was killed by an incompetent fool, who capitalized on my only mortal weakness. In that time also, I should mention an intelligent machine known as Omni nearly took hold of the entire galaxy, as well a time came when the dead rose on many worlds. Those initial years were chaotic beyond imagination... but small compared to the massive disappearance of nearly half the population of the entire galaxy into the Netherworld." Voracitos looked once more to Antherion to make certain he knew that Voracitos was not insane, and that what he spoke, was indeed - fact.

"I was dead at the time, though it was through this event I was able to take living form and escape that hell... in short, the galaxy survived once more and the Sith had risen again in the form of the colossal war machine once known as, the One Sith. Apparently, their Dark Lord was an immortal being of immense power... I am not privy to the details exactly, but the One Sith killed their ruler multiple times (so much for immortality), before succumbing to a civil war that would lead to their downfall despite their enormous victories against the reconstituted Galactic Republic. The Galactic Alliance in combination with the Mandalorain Crusaders, were also critical in dealing the fatal blow against their empire, sending them into ashes, but not before the One Sith defeated the Republic as they dissolved. There was a recent threat by a rogue sect of those particular Sith, who possessed a Superweapon of some kind, but as with all such inefficient endeavors... they failed under the collective might of the galaxy's efforts." Voracitos let out a along exhalation of breathe. That was certainly a most exhaustive briefing on the history that Voracitos personally knew or was privy to the details of. He took a moment to recompose himself a bit.

"Which brings us to the present - The Galactic Alliance is the dominant power in the galaxy, rivaled only by the reconstituted First Order, and an ally to the Silver Jedi, as well as the Mandalorians and their Clans (though I have heard rumor of fragmentation among them). The Sith Order is a fragmented, disjointed, and highly individualistic organization... it requires order among ourselves, and alliances. Alliances I intend to build." Voracitos smiled hugely as he looked out the window to his city below. A slave appeared by his side, to offer him a glass of wine, which he took gingerly and sipped gently.

"Is that all you wish to know?" Voracitos spoke in such a manner to convey, that he knew a great deal more than the simple history he just divulged to Antherion, and knew that the desires inside the Sith beside him reached far beyond the knowledge of what has already occurred. He wanted the power of the future... but the future did not belong to him.

It belonged, as many things do, to Lord Voracitos.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Fealty? That had never been Antherion's intent, though it was probably going to be the practical outcome of such a lopsided confrontation regardless. He doubted that the man or beast in front of him would accept anything less... or any chance at breaking away from it.

That matters not, he thought, quietly reconstructing his mental defenses as his 'lord' gazed down on him with an idle, regal glare. When I do choose to break away from this, it will be when his opinion has no effect on what I can and cannot do.

He nodded, listening demurely as he motioned for a slave to help him up on the hover throne. It rocked slightly as he crawled into a position where he could pilot the machine and listen to his host, captor, and now - liege. Maybe even master, as he now was willing to accept that there were many things that this person could teach him.

Civil war, intelligent machines? It seems history does repeat itself... and this man before me creates alchemy I've never seen before and once styled himself Emperor of the Sith. I may be in trouble, but I've also found a real treasure.

He looked absurd in comparison to Lord Voracitos - one could barely be constrained by his throne and seemed to Antherion to be practically spilling over out of it - and then Antherion was stretched out on his, reclining, and still seemed like a particularly odd biological sample isolated on a petri dish.

"You've answered most of my questions to the extent I'll trouble you. I have a time and place to center myself - so now, I can move forwards. I have only three. First - what is the name of my gracious host? The second - since you now have appointed me a subject, what can I do to repay the debt that I accrued? Third - do you have a library, or any other such repository, for my perusal that I can familiarize myself with the new world order?"

| [member="Darth Voracitos"] |

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Voracitos nearly erupted into a hearty laugh, but managed to only just barely suppress it into a greatly amused snicker.

"A Library? A Library?!" Once more, he could not help but to laugh. "We are on Lorrd! A place of scholars, university, and above all - knowledge. I was not called the Pillar of Knowledge for nothing. I have a vast collection of libraries, to be perused at my leisure, and such a leisure I may loan to you, in the name of Darth Voracitos, Shadow Emperor, and Lord of Lorrd." The Dark Lord smiled deeply, enthralled in the sound of his numerous titles. It was good this [member="Antherion"] was wise enough to know when best to submit, as it opened many new paths for Voracitos to exploit... and a problem to be resolved, one that Antherion had become aware of. A problem he would be eager, even, to resolve for his master.

"As for your payment," Voracitos deepened his voice, but kept it non-threatening... this was a discussion of business after all, and not a threat hanging over his subject's head like a guillotine. Though it could be just as well in any particular moment Voracitos chose. "You have become aware of beings who, as a result of my imprisonment within an Asylum of my own Alchemized Flesh, are intrinsically bonded with me." Voracitos glared deeply into Antherion, remembering the pain of the Nikto's death. "I feel their every moment of pain... there are dozens of them... hundreds, possibly. The longer they exist, the more likely they are to die, and painfully. Their madness will become mine if they are not brought before me. I cannot sever their bonds, but I can keep them here, so they may not be a distraction at a critical juncture. They are a weakness, which must be corrected." Voracitos paused a moment, and turned away from Antherion.

"To repay the life you stole from me, you shall hunt down, and bring before me all my remaining bond-mates. Refrain from harming them, or I shall make certain your debt is extended to me." Voracitos half-turned back towards Antherion, glaring with only one eye.

"Is there anything you require to complete your task for me?" Voracitos was glad this situation would finally become resolved, yet sensed also the potential of betrayal if Antherion were ever to grow too powerful in his travels. Perhaps it was paranoia, similar to the kind he experienced in his visions prior to his initial murder, but he would cover all his bases regardless. He would search for a secondary Hunter, to complete this task, to ensure Antherion would never posses exclusive access to his second mortal weakness.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

[member="Darth Voracitos"]. A name, at last, to the face. It seemed that the fist was at last loosening - but then, Voracitos piqued his curiosity. The Sith, in all his strange eminence, had exposed a weakness.

This, he thought, explains the flash of anger I dealt with. I severed a bond... and in turn, inflicted horrible pain on him. And that was unwitting... if I were an enemy, I could have held it in captivity, tortured it from a safe location - This was a problem, though. What is a safe location from someone so powerful, so attuned, with such ample resources?

Was this why he felt so free in revealing it to me? Does he actually, delusionally, believe that I'm loyal to him? Or does he think I'm afraid of him to the point where I won't strike against him?

The most important question would be how, however. How does one exploit this weakness? Lord Voracitos was clearly narcissistic - indulgent - and ferociously powerful. Unless he wanted his servitude to be indefinite, he would need to find a way to keep at least one bond-mate hidden from Voracitos, so that he might have something to work with.

"Well, I would hope that the banks had remained intact such that I could collect a couple millennia's worth of interest - but my sister apparently emptied the House's coffers, and centuries of on-and-off war are horrible for economic stability. I will need a small grant, which will be paid back once I can use it to establish monetary stability and independence."

"I'm loath to relying on my lord's funds, after all. A means of transport more suited for such a task than a commercial shuttle would likewise be appreciated - and a few changes of clothing."

"I'm sure all of these are well - insignificantly - within the means of the Shadow Emperor and the Pillar of Knowledge. Then, I can spend some time here familiarizing myself with the powers I'm going to be dealing with - that my spells don't have adverse effects on my lord when I cast them on my targets, and so on. Likewise, the time spent here is good to establish familiarity with my lord's presence, so I can use my power to track down my targets."

"Do you have preference for my storage of them, or will I need to bring them back to Lorrd in a procession of individuals?"

This was true - he would also need to research Force bonds in order to find a way to break free. His parasitic draining had restored some power, but he sensed residing within him, still burning, a vestige of what bond existed between the thing he slew and Darth Voracitos. Abuse of it could drive him mad... but study may allow him to find a way to break free.

He would break free. He must. His destiny was not to be a vassal to anything but his own will.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

"All that you have asked for, is granted to you. I suggest also, you do not forget, since you are so aware of it, that I shall collect my due interest. The longer it takes you to secure your own finances, the more I shall expect in return. For your own sake, I suggest you find such a means quickly. I have want to see you succeed financially as much as you do, after all." Voracitos said simply with no particular foreboding slant, this was a loan, and he was a bank. A bank would be foolish to threaten its clients who have yet to wrong him, and [member="Antherion"] was in the process of paying his other debts. So far as he knew, Antherion would be a client of his word, until proven guilty. He would be an animal to assume otherwise... or simply in a sour mood, which surprisingly was not the case on this day. Perhaps finding a subject worth his time soothed his rage.

"As for your targets, they are to be returned here to Lorrd, for safe keeping... until I learn of a method to dispose myself of them. Until then, they shall be studied in great detail. As for the skills you shall use to capture them, I do possess an apprentice of mine who had been likewise bonded to me in my slumber, but had resisted the adverse effects and freed me from my prison. There is much I still have been unable to impart upon him, but you would be something of a challenge, I sense, that may allow him to strengthen his control of the force. Whatever studies you need undertake, you may do so upon the Gruag, [member="Karn Zhakul"], my Shadow Hand." Voracitos knew that Antherion would have no understanding of what a Graug was, or the physically imposing stature of such a beast as his apprentice. Their 'duels' however, would not be the sort of physical brawl Karn was used to. He would have to rely on the force, and the force alone.

A warrior with a blade and the force was dangerous, yet a warrior with a blade and does not need it because of the force, is yet more dangerous. That would be the lesson he would impart upon Karn Zhakul, once these studies would begin. The more knowledge he could impart upon his apprentice, the less of a liability he would be to him. It would also serve to ensure Antherion grew, and maintained his proper strength, honing skills long out of use for the task Voracitos has set out before him.

"In the mean time, however, I will seek to find a means by which an artifact may be created to seek out these bond-mates more effectively. Until then, I must rest. My ordeal has left me weary and paranoid... you would not wish the hell I would put upon you if you stood in the presence of my present mania." Voracitos warned Antherion. "Leave me, you shall be provided for." Voracitos turned fully away from his subject, and deep darkness seemed ooze out from the Dark Lord's presence, the very room becoming heavier to be within.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

"Understood, my lord. On all counts. The generosity of your providence will be reflected in the passion and efficiency of my service." Acclimating to the controls of the hover throne, Antherion turned more slowly than Darth Voracitos. It was relatively simple, though - his shaking hands meant he simply had to be content to move a bit less quickly than he might otherwise to avoid any undignified pitching and twirling. He may sacrifice his freedom, but he was far from giving up his vanity. Rather, he continued pondering.

This one was a puzzle. An honest-to-the-stars puzzle. He knew the average Sith was hard to read, that was one of the first lessons a Sith needed to learn out of necessity - otherwise, they ended up a helpless pawn in the games of others, dancing on strings for the length of their short, short lives. This was not the way for Antherion, and it certainly was not the way for a being approaching as inhuman a level of power as the Shadow Emperor. So the greatest question was this:

Did Voracitos actually believe Antherion owed him any sort of loyalty? Fealty was the other one's idea, accepted in a situation of profound need and duress. It would not, would never last if those conditions were lifted. So there are a number of possibilities, none of them very appealing, which Antherion ran through in his head.

1. Darth Voracitos, the corpulent Lord of Lorrd, is insane, likely due to a combination of pre-existing psychoses typical amongst the Sith and the nonstop agony of his Force Bonds. This has browbeaten him out of a state where he can grasp intrigue, so he is entrusting a stranger with one of his most profound weaknesses.

2. Darth Voracitos, the pillar of knowledge, is so powerful that if Antherion violates this trust, he cannot do it in a lethal or disabling fashion. Knowing this thread hangs over his newfound pawn, he holds his leash tightly and intends to keep Antherion as a servant under constant threat.

If the first one is true, it's best to act under the assumption that it's a ploy to lull Antherion into a fatal misstep, exposing immediately what would otherwise be a hyperambitious liability with a fair degree of power and dangerous knowledge. This was a situation where even a minor underestimation of the danger that he was in could be truly, truly fatal. He had to act with utmost subtlety if he was to secure his freedom. He briefly whirled about, the air rustling around him. No one was behind him, yet still he felt the clinging of the depraved presence, like a shadow was walking with him. Perhaps even now, one of the man's ghostly allies was peering at him, hidden by illusion spells.

He pursed his lips. Plans formed. He would need to engage with this 'Graug' and learn more of the bond that connected Voracitos to him. He would need to learn more of the relationship between the student and the teacher, that he might know how to act. All the while, he would play the dutiful servant to the master - projecting a false air of cowardice, and then hiding it under a false air of confidence to make the masquerade seem genuine. Fret and flinch, not when Voracitos was with him, but rather when he suspected he was being watched. Confess fears to the air next to where hidden listening devices might be.

Let him think he was broken, then strike.

He held no resentment for Voracitos. Only respect, honestly. The man had brought himself back to life from the dead, he had ruled an Empire, and now he lived in luxury and power in what might be a true capitol of knowledge in the Galaxy. He simply could not be controlled. The risk was too great. Their friendship, alliance, or vassaldom would be brief, enjoyable, and tragic in its thick coating of lies. It would last as long as there was such to be gained, and end in one of their deaths, ruinations, or exile.

That was the way of the Sith.

| [member="Darth Voracitos"] | [member="Karn Zhakul"] |