The Transcendent (Neive, Ask)

[Professor Mors]

***Byss System, Deep Core, Grid Coordinates K-11***

***Third Sanctuary Moon, Zero-G Lab Module GY-842***

It had taken time to arrive at this moment, but for Vassyl, it was a much needed distraction from the ebb and flow of the galactic theater. Forestalled by the Eshan Incident and the Cholganna Campaign, the Captain had at last obtained the labor and resources necessary to indulge Prazutis' experiment. There had been voices of dissent, but Doren rhetoric in the proposal, as well as the powers granted him by the Admiralty had easily silenced such groups into submission. Of course there were those that felt such an operation would herald a second Imperial collapse at the hands of the Sith: Vassyl understood their concern. It was legitimate, and this ploy was a gamble to say the least. Still, if the rituals and techniques could be successfully employed, even for a lone combatant, the rewards would be rich indeed.

The artificial research unit had been set in place, and from the vantage point of the Reverent's bridge, the Captain and his guests from Inquisitorius would be aptly place to observe- or destroy the facility at a moment's notice. Energy outputs were in the green. Security cameras and other feeds were responding at nominal capacity. All that remained was, in truth, Prazutis to begin the procedure at his leisure. His flesh, burnt and battered as it was, had been treated with as many bacta infusions that could be mustered. Likewise, his armor had been resurfaced and injected a variety of alloys typically reserved for the Empire's feared AT-AT walkers. Whatever came of the Sith magicks, the Inquisitor had been braced for any eventuality. Doren's eyes drifted to a wall chrono, and continued to wait as the second ticked on.

[Neive Undant]

It was all around him... he felt it, almost filling the ship above him, plaguing many of those within...
fear.

(OOC: https://youtu.be/NmtS00Fx5CE )

Prazutis walked alone through the metal hallway towards the blast doors that would lock him inside the large room with the Holocron. Once he was within... the test would begin.
Standing beside the holocron was a lone protocol droid, meant to be the translator between Prazutis and the entity he would soon contact.
The blast doors behind Prazutis sealed him and the droid within, awaiting him to begin the process.

Prazutis put his left hand out to the black pyramid, feeling the darkness that enveloped it slowly connect with the nature of his own power. The vertices of the holocron suddenly turned, the 3 sides slowly opening.
In a grey veil of smoke formed the mask...
[you went all this way, through all this trouble to contact me... what use do you have of my knowledge?]
Prazutis listened once the droid translated his Sith words, Prazutis looking to the projection as he replied.
“The Power you possessed, you could not hold it with a physical body... You left your body and encased your spirit in the attire you wore. I want to learn this ability... to let go of my own physical limits.”
Once the droid had finished its translation, Nihilus pondered before looking back at Prazutis.
[The Power you wield is barely contained by your physical body... you may learn this power. But while your rage may keep you sustained for a time... soon enough, you will develop the same hunger that I held, albeit a lower level of it.] the droid translated back after the Sith’s speech. Prazutis only nodded, and Nihilus searched through his memories to teach Prazutis how to enact the ability he had wanted.

[Neive Undant]

[the anger, the hate within you... release it. Not on the environment, but on yourself. Cycle the power through your body, and reach out with the force to bend reality to your will. You are no longer a man... you are darkness. You are death. That is what you must say.]
Prazutis closed his eyes, putting his arms out to his sides, feeling the darkness around him, the fear, the anger from the inquisitors above, faint in the distance... and then he focused on his own.
Fear of Tormentous, no matter how he tried to hide it... anger at the Alliance, at Rhoden, at the Jedi he had fought... the anxiety of failure here, at possibly being destroyed by the inquisitors... and his regret, his fury. Through all of it, his rage, his hate...
His wrath.

Prazutis felt his goals within reach. He was not a zabrak. He was not a physical being. He was a presence, a figure of darkness, used to fuel the fire of the Empire that would wipe out the rebellion that has lasted over 30 years... he would burn them. And anyone else that sought to destroy the Empire or its leaders. He would kill all of his enemies... they would die...
Die...
Die...
DIE...

Prazutis’ vision blurred for a moment before he stared forward, numb. His pain was gone... his feeling had gone... he was entirely numb. What had he done to himself? Did he do what he had wanted? Was this really his goal?
[it is done] the droid repeated in basic.
Prazutis looked over his armor, thinking to himself. He felt nothing... only the same rage and ire he had always felt since the destruction of Dathomir. But his hate... it was all there was within him. He was empty without it. Perhaps that was his intention... but not his expectation.
[your training is not complete...]
Prazutis turned to the veil of smoke after the droid spoke for him, thinking.
“Lord Nihilus... your lesson worked just as intended. Now... I seek only to complete my training.”
The dark side was stronger with him, but it had not consumed him... as of yet. The future was cloaked in darkness. But all that the cloak held within, Prazutis felt... was even more darkness.

[Professor Mors]

***Prakith System, Deep Core, Grid Coordinates K-10***

***Citadel Inquisitorius, Forty-Eight Hours after the Events of “Unforgiven”***

Prazutis would have had little time to recuperate after delivering his report to the Commodore- but it was all just as well. Surely, free time and relaxation were hardly the Zabrak’s strong suites. Yes, the recently returned Inquisitor soon found himself summoned to yet another conference, and this time, it was to be held in the communications hub at the top of the citadel’s central spire. Her Majesty’s Servant was not kept in suspense for long however, as a silver, bug-eyed RA-7 type protocol droid sauntered into view. “Good afternoon Inquisitor”, the automaton announced in an even, brasslike tone, “I am Kay-Eye-Three, human-cyborg relations. My overseer wishes to congratulate you on your recent triumph, though he regrets that he cannot be here in person”.

Not waiting up for Prazutis’ response, the droid set about jacking into the hub’s central holoprojector, and made its subsequent intentions clear, “Such being the case, my superior has provided the following message for your eyes only. If you don’t mind, I’ll begin the playback now”. Within moments, the tired visage of one Doren Vassyl sprang into view, contrasting the iridescent white light of the citadel with a cerulean holographic flicker. Though there was no hiding the Captain’s obvious exhaustion, his facsimile did not hesitate to present the Inquisitor with a firm salute, as his prerecorded likeness began, “Inquisitor, welcome home. Already, word of your resounding success on Cerea has proliferated throughout the Admiralty and High Command”.

Offering a tender smile, Doren’s incarnation continued softly, “High Admiral Willis was especially impressed with the brevity and inconspicuous completion of your assignment, and I dare say, in light of this fact, our budget need not fear any danger for some time”. A wry look danced across Vassyl’s complexion, and his expression hardened back into a more serious gaze, “Moreover, in recognition of this most recent victory, as well as your other prior engagements, your place in the program has become the topic of debate once more. At this time, it is my great honor to announce that, as of this moment, you are hereby promoted to the rank of High Inquisitor, and have been granted all the rights and privileges owing to one of such status”.

Waddling forward a few feet, KI-3 revealed a small, compact suitcase, and depressed its triggers to reveal the contents therein. Folded neatly into a diamond arrangement was the titular zeyd-cloth robe of the Inquisitorius. This particular cloak however, was further identified by subtle, striped epaulets stitched into the shoulder panels- the minute calling card of a High Inquisitor. What’s more, placed in the center, was a gilded rendition of the Imperial Sigil, backed by the etching of antique blades, and adhered to a bright crimson ribbon. “At the same time, the Imperial Military has deemed fit to award you the Battle Excellence Ribbon in acknowledgement of your handsome contributions to our cause”, Vassyl added with a reflexive flick of the wrist, “Along with your new uniform”.

“And please don’t worry”, the Captain teased with another, humble grin, “While the inside material is classic maroon, the exterior fabric has been stained black: so as to better compliment your present wardrobe”. “Lastly”, Doren added, clearing his throat, and steadying himself from a sudden bout of dizziness, “Commander Kwedle Bornaro, and his flagship, the Carrack Cruiser Sparrowhawk, will be made available to the good Inquisitor should he require transportation, or a portable base of operations for long-term deployment”. Having recovered some, the recorded likeness of Vassyls straightened up one final time, and concluded, “I am sorry that I am unable to offer my praises face to face, but the occupation has been keeping me busier than ever. Still, know that you have done the Empress proud, and that I look forward our next meeting: Vassyl out”. Another lightning salute rose and fell, and the blue blur faded away, leaving the chamber bathed in harsh, silver light once again.