" Call me 'Devil' "

With Korriban, the ancient home world of the Sith, destroyed, the Sith Order have retreated to the sanctuary of the frozen realm of Zoist.
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Slade Xandir
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Re: " Call me 'Devil' "

Post by Slade Xandir » Tue Feb 20, 2018 8:34 pm

There were times where Blood was a gentleman. Times where he was cordial, polite, easygoing. There were times where he seemed nice. But there were times where was all of those things in the wrongest of situations. Right now was one of those.

He stared down almost condescendingly at the shackled Trianii, a gorgeous female specimen who glared at him through hate-filled jade eyes. Those slit pupils cut into him with wounds he couldn't feel. She herself was a sleek silver, ebony stripes working through her fur in a feral and enticing manner. She was wild at heart, her wrists already beginning to show signs of her ceaseless struggle against her metallic bindings. Those bindings glinted weakly in the dim interrogation room, a large and empty featureless place. The Trianii was strapped to a metallic table, one diagonally upstanding and careless to additional features such as the feliness' tail which was pinned against her side. Limbs were spread eagley, and it was most definitely uncomfortable.

"What am I here for?!" she hissed. "I have been doing my job!"

This was the problem...these slaves were believing it was fine to act and speak out against their masters. Simply because Tormentous was gone meant his influence was? No. Far from it, in fact. Blood was solely born from within the hellish pyres in which Slade couldn't mentally handle. He was the Hunter, the true Left Hand of the Dark Lord. And now with a new Sith in place of that former master of his, things were not any different. Tormentous led with a durasteel fist, and Blood would be no different. Every problem would be dealt with accordingly, and he would be who banished the resistance of all futile beings into the Void.

This Trianii was such a case. A delusional girl who thought she was in good standings enough to speak when not spoken to. Blood usually had control over his internal tides of emotions, but lately he had grown tired of others considering him just a man of words.
[Begin Waves of Darkness App]


His muscles contorted as the Dark Side bled him of reason. Voracious urges came forth, rearing whispers across his auds, passing lively thoughts into feasible feats. The inky spread of power leaped from foot to crown as the Force corrupted his leniency into the lack of. It broke his civil way of thinking, rusted the edges of iron rigid sanity, and drowned Slade out, completely for now. The Dark Side swallowed Blood whole, and spit out a Nightmare made real. A gorgeous garnet slid from abysmal pupils as the gold of born irises tarnished into a sickening yellow. The Dark Side pulled him from logic, and in his boots stood a ghoul. He felt the effects of the Dark Side, but instead of fighting them for his sanity, a luxury he no longer had, he welcomed the feast of ferocious feelings. Blood gorged on the aftermath, the decadent surplus of hatred the voices whispered of, the wicked intent he should simply turn to happening right then, right there. The Dark Side embraced him in an infectious coil, a wrapping of disease he wanted to spread and willingly, he committed to this madness.

He stood opposide of where she lay, and facing the strapped-down feline, his fists balled into weapons within their leather gloves, creaking audibly with it's detested stretch against itself. The Dark Side swelled within him, a tirading tyrant of power which branched into all three factors of what made this power so wholesome. His Senses increased in their potency at the wake of this beastly summon, and his perception of the situation heightened. He felt the room around him, but he also felt the spaces between the room, the next room, the hallways. His Senses branched out and he stretched them to even touch the external shell of the building. He could taste the heated air and feel it's gentle touch as it pushed around and past his essence. Blood took the toxic touch of Dark Side and fueled his muscles, scouring every ligament with the noxious seduction. His muscles absorbed the poison, inflating in their power, snaking Blood into his own arrogance. Control was bolstered in it's hand-held grasp of the Dark Side.

Both of those concoctions swirled nothing but absolute revelation in the administration of Alteration. Blood felt like a conduit, a catalyst for this immense inferno of power. Every blink felt as though it were a flex of power. Not even needing to look at his hands, he knew well enough his hands were poised for damage. Electricity sparked and cackled in his own aura as air particulates were both pushed and pulled away and to his body, little zings and zips of conduction flashing only briefly, nothing lethal, just as he reveled in the enamorment of the Dark Side's influence. But raising his hands and directing them at the Trianii, he inhaled, and with his attuned Senses and parasitic level of Control, he could feel the enticing tumble of feelings the victim was feeling. And upon that prior anger, he fed from them. The fury that was directed at him, he ingested it and recycled the energy for his own purposes. With it, the air atoms around him rushed harder, faster, the sphere of energy surrounding him blending into a ruckus of malevolent power. It expanded through the building in a rush of motion, air harshly rubbing against itself, cold air meeting with that of warmed air as it rushed to a single point: himself. That destructive energy was pulled and stretched as he manipulated it into a sheet of onslaught. Directly at the feliness, he pushed this summoned energy at her, and in the motion reality seemed to distort at it's concentrated unfurl. It pushed against the table stand she was strapped to, the air around her seeming to flex momentarily at seams before dispersing and returning to normal. As it had rushed to meet her, it had moved at such a velocity that it in itself became a sound wave as it rushed at the biped.

Blood inhaled again, the first flex of such a wave had wired him up for the second one, but with his notice he had tasted the change of feelings in the squirming feline. She was no longer angry, but fearful. She was rendered confused by this unknown possession he had launched at her, and she felt the despair that followed suit of the initial attack. "Release me! Release me, please! I don't know what you want! Let me go!" Again, he pulled upon her feelings, and summoned another epitome of the Darkside, a massive sheet of diabolical energy, inescapable energy, and poured it from his hands directly at the Trianii. Her table stand was shoved backwards with the thunderous rush of polluted and sicking energy, the screechiing of metal against metal only adding to the horrific sounds in this room. The wave rushed forward, and the visual effects of light were warped. The wave moved in a flash forward, shaking the room with a deafening roar. Almost as though a thunder and lightning storm were constricted in this room, the light refractions flashed disorientingly around the room, shadows darting to and fro from immobile objects. The Trianni shook in her restraints as the epic waves hit her repeatedly, almost as though she were having a seizure of sorts, yet the alieness was frantically looking for a way out now. She arched her back against the table, her tail being freed and whipping maniacally around her side. She twisted within her holds, almost seeming to want to break her joints to be relieved of this torture.

Her cries meant nothing to him. Her eyes were wide, white showing as they near bucked out of her head. And with every stroke of the waves, the contractions only seemed to crispen with more dangerous levels of Dark Side. It wore him down less now that he was aptly prepared to do this power, since he had meditated and gone through the mental preparation of the strain that was going to come with this excercise. So the abuse was less this time around as he pummeled the bondaged cat girl with punishment for a smart mouth and relentless attitude. It was a few seconds later when he lowered his hands and could no longer assault her with the villainous power. He felt himself being drained as he tapped into his final reservoirs. He felt his mind grow strained as the waves continued, and as he drained the well dry, he sectioned off the power. Reeling in the Alteration, Control and Senses, the world became porous again, less detailed, bland. He felt his influence retract back to him, and he took to consideration of better ways to expel his energy as he caught his breath.


[End of Waves of Darkness App-----1,134/900 WC]

Blood finally took in the sight of the Feline woman. She was whimpering, tail curled around both the table and her. There was something green and sludgy coming down the front of her chest, it's trail falling from a slowly moving left and right dome. Head tilted back, she was crying, the words "Please, please, please, please, please," continually leaving her lips. Her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, and one of her ankles seemed to be broken as her right foot hung more limply than the left. It was clear he had most definitely done something right, here.
"π’―π’½π‘’π“‡π‘’π’»π‘œπ“‡π‘’, 𝐼 𝒢𝓂."

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Re: " Call me 'Devil' "

Post by Slade Xandir » Wed Feb 21, 2018 7:05 pm

Now that the woman was properly submissive, Blood wanted to make the mindset permanent. There were things in this world that were not meant to be seen, but Trianii was about to see all of them, and this time, she could not help but accept this. Some things were basic to torture beings, tools and razors, acids and syringes of toxins. But as Krynn had shown him so many moons ago,

"There are some things that are worse than death," he lulled almost lovingly to her.

[Begin Paranoia App]

Because of her mental inability to fight back, the feliness had no defenses whatsoever against Blood's intrusion. Her eyes were glazed over, and she could be clearly seen as in shock, is not delusional at this point. Blood saw this as a more relaxing point of his expansion of power, as he thoroughly enjoyed working his way into people's minds, whether it be freaking them out, or wooing them to the Dark Side of the Force. This no escape from his enjoyment, and as he recovered his physical energy, he could exercise his mental energy.

With his eyes closed, he hovered a hand over the head of the dazed biped, and instantly he felt the riveting coarse pieces of a tired and frayed mind. Within the cracks, he slipped his mind into the bumpy and hiccupping flow of her life energy. He traveled further and further until that scent of herself in the Force turned into sounds, and further still until he happened across sights. Colors and pictures, sounds and sights. Sights that began to indicate that her weakened mind was not in a good place. This girl was fearful, wanting to fell, but this fear, he tasted, watched and felt, was being compared to something she inherently feared. As a child, a mini cat girl, she was read stories by her older kin, told of horrific things, and the more intensely he pressed, those sounds became actual words to Blood. "Mnggal-Mnggal" a taller trianii spoke to her, but Blood had no interest in pursuing the story. He, and surely everyone else knew what the Mnggal-Mnggal was. A shapeless blob of grey goo that was fully capable of possessing you, of infecting you through simple contact of the skin, injecting itself into you, and eating away all of your insides until your skin was it's own. It would eventually fit like a glove over the Mnggal-Mnggal, and the trianii knew all too well how terrifying of an experience it was to encounter this sentient monstrosity. Tales had played over and over in her head as she rolled over her unstoppable fear. But just as her heartrate began to stabilize, Blood felt her attempting to pull away from her fears, to reestablish her grip on reality. He refused to allow this.

The Sith Lord pushed swift jabs of mental claws into her retreating mind, and immediately called upon the Force again to aid him mentally. His expertise in Illusion was to assist him in a more sinister way, today. Within the folds of this woman's mind, he inserted a growing image, something already visually easy to connect to; she was still strapped to this table, and no one was in the room with her. Her jade eyes looked around, searching for him, but Blood wasn't gone...
except he was...

Hobbling in the room was Blood, except his gait was extremely unnatural. Blood impressioned himself in a stiff legged walk towards him, and with his vivid imagination and knowledge from not only the tales he had heard, but stolen ones from hers as well, he painted a picture of this version of himself, with eyes beginning to bulge from their sockets as he walked directly in front of here. From first glance, this version of himself was dangerously not-normal. Simply laying eyes on him would immediately creep any who laid eyes on him, out. But Blood knew him working this into her mind would only cease her rebellion, and he enjoyed his play with other being's minds. His Senses blended into hers as he continued to impregnate her mind with this vision, only to intensify the effect of the horror. The version of himself before her reached out a hand to her, skin slumping downward as it was seeming to get baggier, only just until drips of grey began to ooze out of separate openings. Those dull golden eyes, slipped from nonexistent sockets, splashing onto the floor with a 'smack'. Following their decline, mushy good oozed out of the sockets, landing unbelievably close to her feet, feet which she struggled to pull close to her.

The zombie husk coughed, and with his own Senses invested, he imagined himself as her, which only allowed him a more concrete connection with her own feelings. The grey ooze of the Mnggal-Mnggal landed on the dampening hide of her fur, and it was visibly worming it's way past coarse hairs, and sliming a touch of ghastly feel into her chest. As he would, she felt the slime worm it's way through her body, slowly making a writhing trek under her skin, visible from even her own eye. Warming touch of cold worms were under her hide, and almost more horrifying, it dispersed under her skin, melding into her tissues, tissues that began to feel millions of infuriatingly painful pinches - She was being eaten! From the inside! The despair kicked her into moving more intensely trying her hardest to escape a fate she had no business being involved in. But upon the first sign of struggle, Blood flung his Control into play, and his illusion threw an decaying arm forward, gripping her by the throat. The strength of the arm was incredible despite the decomposing look of it, but the thing that was even more horrid was the strength of which the Mnggal-Mnggal burrowed into her neck. His Alteration came in fully as it charged the Mnggal-Mnggal with extreme and uncomfortable force in which it bled into her throat. It was thick, the goo, and he used slight amounts of pressure from his ability within Telekinesis to make this nightmare all too real for the Trianii. She was choking, gagging, airless, and he felt her fear peaking to heights unknown. Her hands begged to be released, her struggle to try and rid herself of this terror that wiggled in her windpipes, through her esophagus, within her stomach, spreading maddening pinches and pulls and yanks as she was fed upon from within.

The vision took a new turn as Blood wove the nightmare through the 'eyes' of the Mnggal-Mnggal. It zoomed through her nares, just to where it had burrowed in the thick conjoined spaced of her already half shredded vocal cords. Blood illustrated in her mind the true single mentality of the diverse Mnggal-Mnggal, as the entire worm of sludge snaked sloppily up and through her body, and made it's way directly to her brain. Munching on various pieces of her as it multiplied, spread, and made it's new home much more accommodating, her body looked to deflate in various spots as it only inflated with a new filling substance. As the Mnggal-Mnggal finally reached her brain, she could do nothing but both watch and feel the newfound horror of going literally brain dead. As the grey slime oozed over the brain, she felt herself shutting down. Now while she felt this numbness, it psychologically began to rewire her outside of the illusion. She still had feelings of terror, of absolute horror and unbridled fear, but the part Blood felt most intensely was the dismay which came forth from the realization. She felt no hope, no belief in there being anything wonderful in the world. There was loss of her happiness, loss of the ability to ever feel happy ever again. And this depression fed Blood's influence ecstatically. Her paranoia was beyond controllable, and only after her mind was completely taken from her, only until she was nothing but a trembling and paranoid husk of alien, did he release her from the visions of nightmarish happening.


[End Paranoia App]-------------[1,264/1,000 WC]
"π’―π’½π‘’π“‡π‘’π’»π‘œπ“‡π‘’, 𝐼 𝒢𝓂."

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Re: " Call me 'Devil' "

Post by Slade Xandir » Sat Mar 31, 2018 5:49 pm

It only took so long before the Story Teller fell in love with the fiction, too. Before the Puppeteer got tangled in their own strings. Before the Headsman slipped up, and decapitated themselves.
The End would Dawn on a Silent Morning, no matter how painful it was. Time would be Shattered by the Universe, and in their clash, He would soon see Himself without a mirror.

A million and one riddles rambled through his mind as he walked in a daze through the echoing halls of the Malevolent. There was something drastic he had plans for happening, today, but those plans were not simply his. They belonged to a mind that was both and neither his own.
The Sith Lord knew instinctively where it was he was going; the only room worth anything on this legendary ship. Tormentous' room. His gait was slow; the rest of the day wasn't filled with pressing matters. He had all of it to complete this task.

Walking through the heavy doors that were always closed, they creaked open with a remarkably unoiled screech. One of the first things he noticed were the green eyes of Five-Oh. Before him, a hulking botch of robotic mass, still as intimidating as it had always had been. Staring down at the prior pupil of Tormentous, the WarDroid moved aside as it allowed him within the domain of it's master. Walking past the humanoid machine, the Sithian made a direct walk through the almost space-vacuum twinlike atmostphere of the chambers, the frost threatening to make the Lord shiver thorugh the thin layers of clothes he brought to wear. Forward he took himself to the pedestal, the stand that held the Dark Side radiating weapon, the Jidai Maras.
Pulling the beastial blade from the notch with both hands, he sat on the cold floor with the weapon laying across the tops of his knees. And from aroung his neck, the Sithian pulled free a leather strand that held a single piece of dragon scale from around his neck. From his satchel, he pulled out a fang he had found lodged in a half mangled body on Korriban from Wrath. The curved ivory was stained with a chalky red at the tip. Laying the fang across the broad length of the Jidai Maras, Blood held the dragon scale necklace over the sword, and felt himself fall into the depths of the Force.

Begin Dark Side Draconic Amulet Craft---700 WC Req---


First thing Blood had done was made an incision upon the blade of his former Master's weapon, the Jidai Maras. After the garnet jewels began to flow from the deep slit on the underhalf of his palm, Blood held a firm grasp on the amulet, itself. The Dark Side was not prevalent enough, thus why he brought the sword of Tormentous with him, to channel and be a contracting insulation of the forces he wanted present.

In his mind, he remembered the way Tormentous moved, and how he himself were taught how to move. This comparison brought forth images in his mind, easy replicas of the both of them, in battle again, side by side. The multiple lessons Tormentous had instilled in him, had invested in Blood to ensure he had what he needed to make it through this era, and beyond. The power he was infused with grew, as his emotions began to rile at the simple thoughts of his former Sire. Longing to be better than the man he was today spurred the desire to see it done. The end result, the image of Blood growing not only in Force but in experience with the handling of enemies, whoever dared to step against him or his pack. Greed fueled this desire for conquest, but the tables were soon turned as a thought paused the entirety of his trek.
During his reign of power accumulation, what if Tormentous returned to lay claim to the throne again?

Blood's immediate conflict rose up a turmoil of problems as he ranged through every single option. The Jidai Maras felt this emotional confrontation, and it's own power grew, feeding off of the problems that came and were wrought from it. Tormentous was undoubtedly more powerful than Blood, and the dragon master knew this deeply in is heart. Tormentous hadn't exactly prepared him for taking him down, not as much as he had prepared him for slaughtering enemies of the Sith.

The conflict in him grew as he sought a way to pacify this problem.
The man knew he would have to up his skills as not only a leader, but a Master of the Sith, as a Ruler if he were even remotely to be considered for taking Tormentous down. He would have to harness those internal power struggles, and range them into an unfathomable level of power. Knowing Tormentous was a behemoth of both attack and defense, he imagined a scenario which might require Blood to try his hardest. The Sith Lord felt an idea spark; if he could invest enough desire into winning, it could be bled into the Force, and infused in this ritual.

Blood laid the necklace down across the sword, his life essence spilling across both the fang and the blade. His blood coated both, and from it, he felt a direct connection with the blade, itself. The Dark Side rose to meet and penetrate Blood through this connection, and readily enough, he allowed it; it was the only thing that could help him see this effort through. As he felt the connection grow between this domineering Force and his own, he replayed over and over in his mind his own cravings for power, for rule, for taking over anything he had set his mind to. Clearly, he visualized himself harnessing the power of dragons, becoming one in essence with that majestic reptile, and becoming just as powerful as it was considered to be. Strong, swift, unendingly powerful. He would have to have a baffling level of power behind his attacks, balance in his mind as he sought to set flame to everything that stood in his way. The Jidai Maras grew in it's own power as he bolstered the Dark Side influence within himself, with such density to where the amulet had begun to shake. Remarkably, the blood that had coated the blade, fang, and amulet hadn't dried up, yet- instead, it was gone. Disappeared as if it had never even been present in the ritual. However, Blood knew what had truly happened. As his kyber crystals had, the weapon and catalysts had absorbed his blood, using it as a means of direct communication and connection with Blood.

The Sith Lord felt something smack into the underside of the scale, and surprised, he turned it over to find the fang stuck fast to the dark onyx piece of dragon, a deep and darker shade of red plastered behind it as a backdrop of what 'glued' the fang to the scale. The obsidian scale seemed to glow in a light of it's own, something he moreso felt that saw. It shimmered with something powerful, but he couldn't exactly tell what it was other that Force energy.

Knowing there was power in this piece of apparel now, Blood knew he had to instill his own involvement into it as he had done his sabers. He had to command this necklace's attention, and direct it with his own will.
Taking in a deep breath, Blood leaned over the blade as he held the necklace up to his forehead. He felt it's aura against his own in the Force, saw the remarkable glisten of it against the backdrop of absence. He felt the Dark Side within it, and he felt separate pieces of himself within it's folds, but they were not working in tandem with each other, lacking unification. He reached a mental hold deep within himself, near the darker hem of his desires, and pulled up the prior ones he had seen himself bringing upon his future. Dominating any and all, reigning down nothing but chaos and nightmares to those who denied him. He surrendered himself to the ecstasy of being the one and only Alpha, and being the true heir of Tormentous. The threads of his Force web reveled in this pleasure, unwinding from his lack of uptight control momentarily, and suddenly the Sith Lord snatched them up, and began winding them against every element within this amulet. The separate shards of his own presence inside of the apparel were ties together by his will, and with connection to the Dark Side, his powers both within the necklace and outside of it were made real. He felt a connection to the Dark Side almost remarkably more intimate than what he had dreamed of before, and his Force Powers too felt amplified. He could see how the Dark Side had unified with him as he opened his eyes and looked down at his hands, the hands that held this amulet, and they were unbelievably dark. His hands, up to the midsection of his forearms were inked out completely as tendrils of darkness spread slowly up his arm.

The only question that echoed in his head as he looked between his arms and amulet...

"What have I done...?"


--------End of App---------[1137/700 WC]----------
"π’―π’½π‘’π“‡π‘’π’»π‘œπ“‡π‘’, 𝐼 𝒢𝓂."

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Re: " Call me 'Devil' "

Post by Slade Xandir » Sat Apr 14, 2018 10:06 pm

It seemed curiosity killed not just the cat, but the dragon, as well.
Well, to a degree, one hotter than a thousand sunhearts.

Blood had been experimenting, or moreso better put, he had been having others experiment for him, learned the results of their work, and chosen separate pieces of it to make his own theories. There had been experiments on gizka in the multiple labs on Moraband, Blood waiting for a many of varied results to reach his ears before he finally pieced together what he had, and took an opportunity into his own hands.

The dragon he kept as his mount, Wrath, was always readily available to him, and earlier that day, the Sith Lord extracted a tissue sample from the beast. Nothing of extreme pain, just a slight scraped off piece of scale and skin from the cursed Arkanian Dragon. All was forgiven from an easy meal of a perishable slave and Blood turned from the feeding dragon. Making himself swiftly down the halls and into the now emptied lab of the Science Ward within the castle's walls, Blood took himself over to one of the counters, and laid his satchel of materials and texts laid out against the stainless steel.

He had been slightly enthusiastic about getting to this experiment after he had been successful with his amulet; if he could get positive results from this, he could simply put his mind to anything and everything he put his mind to.
--Start of Sith Alchemy App--


Across the steel, the scale glowed like a single dark eye across the near platinum of the polished table, while the skin was a dull obsidian that leaked a minute dribble of blood. Placing both in the mortar, he poured the ivory powder of a buried son's sternum into the stone bowl, and slipped exactly 6 drops of the Coma-Bloom he had harvested from his moon, Sojourn. Within it, he rubbed the melted fat of a felled dragon he had come across on Arkania many moons ago, which had been preserved in the acidic blood he had yet to learn the name of a creature he wasn't allowed to know of. Karliah had given him these things, the amounts precisely measure tricefold to ensure he couldn't possible mess this experiment up and blame her.

All things were poured in, and afterwards, the Sith Lord took off his shirt, and tossed it on the floor. Taking a vibroshiv, he made a slit in his dominant hand from the tip of his thumb's underside, down the base of the palm, and met up the blade's tip to the edge of his pinky's underside, effective cutting out a V. From there, he retraced through the wound, and met each line halfway through with the blade, making another V who's point ended up directly under his forefinger. The square was empty in his palm, seeming untainted, as blood began leaking from the cuts. He laid the bleeding hand across his chest, directly over his own breastbone, as the other, his secondary hand, reached out to, but did not grab the pestle. With closed eyes, he reached out in the Force, and picked up pestle with his telekinetic hand, starting to stir and mix the ingredients. Immediately, his nostrils were met with a coppery smell that was more sweet than anything he had remember adding to the stone bowl. He knew it was time.

Diving directly into the center of his mind, he let loose the uptight control he usually had over himself, blowing up every single strand that held him constricted to the smiles and nice words. The constructs collapsed with so much force, but he continued the terrorizing within himself, ripping down the walls and beams that held him so tight. Like a tidal wave of agony, his mind began to unravel as a painful crash hid him directly in his chest. The sanity slipped from him, his consciousness bleeding from the blow. But in the end, his telekinetic hand continued it's mixing as he continued this terrible journey. Revisiting old friends, guile, vice, loathe, greed, he warped the slurry of evil into it's own burning inferno and embraced it. As he made one with the inhale of vicious destructive energy, Blood found the words he needed for this ritual to continue to it's near end. He spoke them, not only with his words, but with his mind. With his entirety. With unbelievable backlash, he felt the Dark Side respond as he communed with it in Sith, these words having been too long far and widely forgotten for it to even believe them to greet it's sinister ears again. But Blood knew them, and he recited them with full and whole indication of his desires.

The Dark Side immediately poured through him like a vessel, filling him almost instantaneously. As he felt the burning of the intensity near suffocate him, his golden eyes snapped open, rims of sick topaz lined with that telling scarlet. He was now hand in hand with this wicked way of life, and there was no turning back. Grabbing the stone mortar, the mush slopped around as if it were a shushie. And as if it were the air he needed to breathe, the food he needed to eat, and the liquid he needed to drink, Blood put the dark garnet to his mouth, and downed it in a gagging series of swallows. He got through 3 gulps before he followed through with the rest of the instructions, all whispered to him through his mind by some childish voice, one familiar to him by way too many ways to count.

"Now smear it over you, my sweet, sweet puppet. Shoulders, arms, chest, legs, everywhere. You want this, to be strong, to be uncontested. To be the true King of Dragons."

He immediately followed the mental giggles, the wounded hand grabbing at the half of the remaining sludge, and almost lovingly it seemed to grab his hand in a caring and reassuring way, an approving way. Wasting no time, he rubbed the mess over himself, coating his arms, shoulders, and other accessible body parts in the gritty and sticky red. But as he finished up, he heard that same voice, the Shadow Pup's, mixing her unending laughs with words that made the meaning clear to him.

"You used the wrong hand...Now you're going to have to deal with the consequences."

"What...?"

The man had in fact, used the wrong hand. And because of his folly, he had completed the ritual, but was caught in the problem of it now being permanent. He had gotten what he wished for, but now he was stuck with it for life.
The effects began taking hold, the dark red hardening into a keratin mold before shading to blend into his skin. It was stuck fast, and felt stiff, forcing his heart to flutter as he felt the Dark Side rejoice not only in his success, but in his lack of getting what it was he wanted. His heart beat harder and harder as the sweet sludge was pulled into his system, intertwining with the Dark Side that fully perforated his body. His emotions were amplified by this intoxication, and it made to mix with his system faster than if he were calm. He was now where the broken could not be fixed.

Everything around him began to blur as he became dizzy. He bent over and keeled across the table only just before his legs refused to hold him up any longer. The world smelled inappropriate to him, of sex and hate, of ballrooms and clandestine performances , and the Dark Side made no effort to help him make sense of any of it. Neither did Krynn. As they did in their familiar game of hide and seek...

they abandoned him when he needed them most.
Another betrayal.

He knew if he fought against the effects, he would sap his own strength that he had left, and that would be what killed him. He would be another pawn of the Dark Side, made into another Spawn, and his own selfish desire to live wouldn't let that happen. The only thing he could remember before his final stand of reality crumbled away-

"Desire becomes surrender....
and surrender...
becomes power.
"

It was then he cast himself adrift the whispering tides of Dark Side's deliciously sinful currents into the Void, his golden irises retracting their scarlet and polishing into their familiar gold, before glazing over as his heart momentarily slowed him into the coma he inflicted onto himself.


---End Sith Alchemy App---[WC 1,180/700]
Waking from the ruse of Fox, Blood felt his heart return to it's own proper pulse, if not slightly slower than what it had once been. His head throbbed as if he had tried to catch himself with his face against a door's repetitive slam.
Shatter Me...

"Yo, S, where you been, man? What flew through here? Somebody try ta off ya? And...what did...what did they do to you, man?"

Doctor, Doctor, please LiSTeN...

In the reflection of the steel, Blood himself in an entirely new light. And it most certainly wasn't a good one.
He was a monster.

His real goal was to make armor come across him at any time he interacted with the Dark Side, but instead when he had grabbed the concoction with his open wounded hand, he gave it direct channel into him when he was at his most weakest. There was no way to reverse what he had had done...failure had found him, and now he paid the price for it.

He saw from the worst of it, his back, shoulders, arms, and the majority of his chest were covered with scales identical to those of his pet's. He felt more stiff than he had expected it to be, but he was still capable of bending over and doing whatever it was he felt he needed to accomplish in battle. He felt as though his bones grew, morphed into something thick, denser, and he felt wider, somehow inescapably muscular. But he couldn't see anything more than an increase of size in his body's girth all around, and he assumed it was somehow muscles he forced into his body. He was always athletic in build, but now he had a body that was more tank-like, more....
More like Tormentous.

Standing, wobbly, he felt how stiff his legs were; it was a silent confirmation that the scales had not missed the opportunity to spread to his lower limbs. The Sith Lord looked at his hands, the same ones he used to try and steady himself, and saw with a drop in heart that they were no longer handsomely tanned, no longer...human.
They were scaled, dark like inky, bubbling tar, and clawed. He still had his five digits, but the nails that jutted from them seemed thick enough to need a light weapon to cut them. Looking down, his toes too, feet bare, were covered in the void-hued scales, claws rupturing from all ten of them as if he were come reptilian beast.

His mouth moved to speak, and his lips immediately felt snipped pain. Raising a clawed hand to his lips, Blood pulled it away to find fresh crimson contrast brightly against his dark hands. Teeth, sharp, pointed, almost conelike jutted from his mouth. Blinking almost hesitantly, Blood rubbed a tongue over the fangs, and even his tongue felt different in ways that simply weren't mammalian.

"I did thisss..." he found it hard to speak with the longer and more narrow tongue. "I...did thisss..."

And he didn't know how he would get through it without driving all of his hard work, his businesses, his connections with the professional world. All of that hard work to get Sojourn into a paradise for all...
He looked nothing like the paradise he crafted.
He looked like the Nightmare he had always foreseen himself to abstain away from.

Did that mean he had to act like one now, too?
"π’―π’½π‘’π“‡π‘’π’»π‘œπ“‡π‘’, 𝐼 𝒢𝓂."

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Slade Xandir
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Re: " Call me 'Devil' "

Post by Slade Xandir » Wed Apr 25, 2018 7:33 pm

Blood felt Fox come close to assist him up, and the Sith Lord felt something indomitable and horrible twist in him at the touch of his fellow Sith.

Hunger.

Blood reached out with those talon-like hands, gripping the chestnut haired male, his grasp unrelenting and increasing in pressure. Not trying to offend his Alpha, Fox tried to help the man up and wiggle his own arm out of the hold. "A lil' snug there, man-" was all Fox could get out before Blood pulled the man close, and threw those prick and prong teeth across his partner's jugular.

It was over much, much too soon.

-----------------------------------------------

Blood sat there in the tattered remains of his younger packmate, scarlet drying on his scaly face, across his clawed hands. And as he sat there, he realized from the act itself, not just the fill, he felt whole. He felt as if consuming Fox was something he was always meant to do. He felt silence take his mind, just replaying in a bliss the extreme carnage that had taken place. The meat, the supply of it, his new favorite heft of it all, the shoulders, legs, the chewy delicates of tendon, the spurts of rubies that hugged him as he ripped jiggly skin from hiding all that glorious meal-
And the most perfect drink to pair it with, the blood.

Warm and satisfying, it round the meal with a heated silky trip down his throat as he recalled slurping it up, licking it from each freed hunk of limb with a prying and snakely tongue. None could hide from him, as he pried femurs and conjoined arteries. Just the sea of it all, he loved, and though it seemed endless the well soon dried up.
Dried...

He flecked a piece of meat from one of his fangs, and licked the spike as he finished up his meal.

What, next?

Or better yet,

Who, next?
"π’―π’½π‘’π“‡π‘’π’»π‘œπ“‡π‘’, 𝐼 𝒢𝓂."

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Re: " Call me 'Devil' "

Post by Slade Xandir » Tue Jun 12, 2018 7:49 pm

The time was drawing near for Blood to learn how to properly conceal himself in public. Eventually moreover, would be time for him to make himself known as someone else, but as not many knew his original mortal form other than that of a businessman, he would try to make it so. In almost an essential way, this was him turning into someone else.

Standing in the frigid temperatures of the mountains he now exclusively kept as his training domain was the Dragon King himself, and with him was Raven and Karliah, both in their respective robes of choice. The wind blew around them in constant cry of relentless cold, yet all of them were untouched by it's cold kiss whether it be by Force assistance of fleshly prohibitions.

Karliah was the one who spoke primarily in this lesson, as Sorcery was her specialty. "In my culture of transformation, talismans are used, and pendants as well. With them are the harvested blessings of our God and Goddess. Yet you are not a piece of such culture, and your own pendant has nothing to do with their blessings. So we must approach it as such, granting this situation a cleft of new light."

Giving him a wave of her staff's head, she muttered a few words and a wave of green energy, what she called her spirit's ichor, consumed the entirety of her image. It crackled into a shield of lightning and was over within a helm of seconds. Standing, or rather levitating in her place, was another Raven. Just as the breeze blew the dark violet cloak of the real Raven's, Karliah's Raven's bright red cloak blew with the same tenacity. Every aspect of the hybrid miraluka was copied, piece by piece, and Blood was stumped how the Shaman Sorceress pulled off such a thing so quickly.

"A more subtle approach to this method is envisioning an element curtaining you from view, allowing you a swift and more smooth transition. What your lives as the element your spirit belongs to."

As Blood pondered this aspect, Karliah turned to the real Raven and began working with her to enhance her own stealth abilities in the form of disguise.

Considering he had been intertwined with the Void from his initial craft by Krynn, he considered that one of the elements he would be able to use as a curtain for himself. Fire was also an element he had grown to be accustomed to, as it was his favored element to use in battle other than darkness and shadows. With such knowledge, he considered how it would fair if he combined such a pair of elements for himself. He would have to make not only himself believe that he was back to his regular mortal form, but radiate off the ability to cast others under such a belief, as well.
---------------------Disguise App------------------------

Blood began with envisioning himself from the spectrum of what truly was .He could feel what form his body was in with the scales and the shells of the orbalisks, the horns, the tail, the basic front-back loincloths. Focusing on such, he mentally replaced such an image with what he once appeared to be. And he remembered the smooth skin he had, how it overlaid his body with such eased level of taunt. Not stretched, nor flabby. He remembered the Corvione tattoo, and how it hung widely over a scarred back where his pet Garral Volkair had slashed across it as Slade had bisected the loyal animals skull in half. He remembered how he was a lean and fit man, how his muscles were toned and well laid through his forever calm body. His mind whisked over the onyx mane of thick and straight hair he had, hair he had thought he was never going to lose until he did. How his hands were soft yet calloused in all the right places. How his legs fit in those aforementioned pair of slacks. How his body moved, how he made it behave.
And from it, he cast not only an illusion on himself, but the puppeteer pulled strings on the very threads of reality around him. Closing his eyes now, he summoned up the passions he held in life, the hatred for the multitude of wrongs he had too much pride to admit on the careful line he walked on business and pleasure, and how glorious it was to enjoy both crafting life, and bringing death. His enjoyment of making things happen, and the rush of dominance he felt when they ran successfully and according to his wishes. His urges to show others the paths in which he took, so in all he could make other see the blessings of the Sith and what a 'take all' life could provide. His skills in leadership, and the rewards that came with it such as loyal followers. All of the emotions assisted in boosting his powers, as his amulet began to darken from it's intial bright crimson coloration. As he became more involved, the amplification of the Dark Side amulet became more hungry, voracious for more that it could latch to and feed itself with. Blood effectively fed it with his memories he had as his human form, how many he had effectively culled whether it be against Tormentous' reign, or his own. How many times he spilled blood across the front end of his attire in a complex tango between him and an opposer. The amulet absorbed this information, and in return fueled him with more ease in capability of Force, laying down an easier method of allowing himself refuge in another form, the form he seemed so mesmerized with.

In turn of using violence as fuel for his amulet, the internal fires within him began to simmer, lighting and spreading with each heated exchange he shared with the amulet. Before long, Blood pulled free his control of the internal flames, and allowed them to take him in their fiery embrace. It began where he could imagine change most easily taking place, beginning with the feet. He envisioned his scaled feet reverting to their fleshy and tanned form, the scales and shells falling away to reveal his interior self. The flames began to surge around those clawed digits, and spread upwards as his imagination allowed it to burn away the orbalisk's shells and the scales of the Dragon he was infused with. Muscular legs, tan and human were attached to those now normal feet, and though they were being consumed in the moving fire, Blood could feel them as they bathed in those flames. Upward the inferno inhaled his lower half, and he mentally stripped away more pieces of the Dragon as it coursed further up and relished him in it's bliss. His torso was bathed in blessed flames, searing the rest of the horrid appearance, as well as his arms, neck and head. The horns weren't there any longer, and he could see himself in his mind as he felt...human. His long black hair, those broad shoulders. It was as if he was taking himself back through time.

Relinquishing the flames, a swirl of smoke left him awash in a plume of darkness. It was inky black and whimsical in dexterity, a vortex of Void. This was where his attire came into play, and unlike himself usually wearing a garnet silk shirt, the Void stripped the color from it and stained it in absolute obsidian. Paired with the black silk shirt, his usual pair of business slacks though with an unusually dark black hue to them. His feet became shielded from the cold with the pair of felt loafers he had remembered to always had been his favored pair to wear, and his hands were covered in a pair of genuine gentleman gloves, hemmed and tailored perfectly to his size. His golden eyes opened to the world of blackness and after he did so, he felt across himself both externally and beyond. He could sense the world through his body, the wind blowing through his 'hair', hands snug in those 'gloves', 'shirt' billowing with the ceaseless winds of the mountain. Idly he could still feel his extremities, but not in a way of hinderance, more something to keep him aware of his limitations. But outwardly from what he could feel of himself, he also felt how powerfully he was projecting this illusion outwards, his disguise something that very few would be able to see through, if not impossible. The amulet had ensured his power was sustained well enough for him to not flex as much ability to do so.

Only after he had made sure his transformation was complete, did he will the smoke away to make himself visible to the others. It became to dissipate in lazier swirls until it had died away completely. Raven was no longer appearing to be herself, and instead was a Karliah in violet robes, while Karliah was still Raven in a scarlet cloak. The both had turned to him as he came out of his cocoon of smoke, and 'Raven' had nodded her head in approval, while 'Karliah' had raised her eyebrow in surprised suspicion. The both of them however, confirmed he had successfully transformed, just as they had.


-------------------End of Disguise app-----------WC: 1065/600------------------------
"π’―π’½π‘’π“‡π‘’π’»π‘œπ“‡π‘’, 𝐼 𝒢𝓂."

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Re: " Call me 'Devil' "

Post by Slade Xandir » Tue Jul 31, 2018 7:17 pm

Again he sat atop the mountain peak of Sojourn, but tonight was a completely different matter, entirely. This was a full contemplation of his thoughts, of his expectations of himself. Brick by brick by brick, he layered the thoughts, the desires, the situations, the looming matter at hand, all of it. He brought all of his thoughts together, and allowed them to circumvent throughout the entirety of his mind.

And bringing them all to the whirl about his focus, he revived that said matter, and brought it out to the front view of his mind.
"Tormentous might win..."

The chaos broke free.
_____________________________________________________________________
Begin Control Weather App
He felt the turmoil race around his mind, his heart's thuds resonating in his mind with every weighty sound that followed that horrible downfall. The edge of every scolding belief he held began to swallow him, and in response, the Dark Side began to flare up, rearing it's slick head to smother any contest. As positive would against negative energy, they were two polar opposites, his desires versus his mind's current predicament. The Dark Side itself wanted to drown him in negativity, and ultimately Blood knew he would have to wage war against himself in order to win. But first, he would need to surrender to his desires, as that was the only way to achieve the power he sought.

With resolute determination, Blood inhaled all of it. He puled within him that savage energy that bled from a morbid call of dismay. He allowed those terrible teeth to sink into his soul, to inject him with that awful woe that scared so many into depression and hopelessness. All of it, he felt influx his web with a toxicity that only the weak would represent. It curled around his chest, constricting him as any starving python would.
And he took it all.

But the Wicked Messiah was not done. He was not planning to lay down and allow this Dark Side victory over him. The look in his eyes told it so. As a double edged payback, the Dragon King whiplashed the emotions the Dark Side had evoked as he forced such a tremendous exhale outwards. A sempiternal ricochet of his power escaped from his outer form in a wave of forceful air, scalding the air from such a furious velocity. The mountain's trees nearest him would blow outwards from his forceful wash of heated air, visibly wilting as the combusted air molecules singed their foliage.

Blood did not relinquish his release, however, and the trees continued to lash against the torrent of wind. That single line of outer manifestation, he pushed so hard that hurt. But with gritted teeth, the draconian shoved his might against the thread, the course string rubbing raw his Senses. Control flexed through his body with a scale of infuriated empowerment, blissfully burning through his body as he near tried to physically push this nightmarish power further. Alteration however was most focused on as he united every ounce of strength he had to push this past his inner body and scorch much more of reality than deemed necessary. He wanted the sky itself to bend to his desires, and such heated passion blazed through him, revigorating his depleted reserves with arrogant expectations. He knew tonight was a hot night, as the star the moon rotated around in this cycle would bring a drought if he chose to keep the moon unwatered and disallow irrigation. However, the air was still condensed with the heat trapped under the atmosphere of the moon, and he utilized every bit of it. Grasping the wafts of energy the heated air held, he combined his own energy with it. A mass of intense threads he held now as he exerted himself on the webs he pushed against, the webs of natural order.

The energy he now bullied from the atmosphere, he took and combined with the waves of air he sent furled from him. This was less abrupt to the retaliation natural n the Force, as it melded with that of the moon. It recognized this energy, it's own energy, and this released much of the burden from Blood as it granted access to more command of the atmosphere. It also was another reservoir of energy at his disposal, and with a symbiotic relationship with the moon, he exchanged his energy for it's. It was an oppertunity he sank his claws into, and it showed. With the same amount of effort, Blood became one with the skies of the moon, and it began to show. He felt the excess of his power and that of the moon, and with the leveled push, the same shove he executed earlier, he felt less recoil. His utmost desire as of now, to own the plane above and around him, to command the skies. He starved all other thoughts, harvesting them for this succulent other energy, and turning the pass of power outward, his release was extreme. The winds soared from him, forming a helix about him as he connected with the skies, an unbroken union of power. The wash of air swam around him in a billow of hot embrace, a war against anything around him. With such fury, the winds were hot with not only the atmosphere's touch of sun warmth energy, but with the intense passion Blood arrogantly held captive within his heart. Scoring against the world around him, rock heated as the vibration blasted the atoms with hot energy. The trees before had wilted, but with the combination of todays weather and what Blood assaulted them with, the limbs began to droop, leaves drying and snapping off with a dehydrated twist. The whirlwinds reached speeds of disbelief, and the draconian pushed them further and faster as he gorged on the depth gifted by the moon. It was a tidepool of power, only achieved by what he shared with the moon's own energy.

It was now time for him to release his reach deep in the moon, and after several moments he felt out each individual thread he had accumulated and identified them in priority order. With it being so chaotic, if he released them unnaturally, the helix could spin out of his control and destroy everything across the moon.
First, he latched onto what he shared with the atmosphere, and isolated the power from the potential. The energy from the heat, the energy from the winds, he slowed. The molecules cooled, and he did it slowly, so he wouldn't disrupt the majority of the web the moon originally had. He didn't want to accidentally evoke too much retraction, or else he would potentially cause a thunderstorm, the heated air meeting the air he was slow down and cool. Eventually, he wrangled the majority of the threads, and evened them out, and the winds began to peter out. The helix distorted, losing the power that drove it, and it faded away into the barest of winds originally upon Sojourn. With the rest, he relaxed his grasp on the heated force he exhumed, and the Alteration he held in tandem with it. The winds around him too relaxed, slowing down tremendously the more he released his hold on the threads of such. The damage had been shown however, as the breeze began to once again settle naturally around the moon. Trees stripped bare, dead on their exterior as the whiplash proved too much for the younger saplings, rock darkened on their face as the heat scorched their outer minerals. But at his feet showed the circle of which it sat, perfect and faded as it directed nearer where he sat. It almost looked as the eye of a tornado was imagined to be. Regardless, he relaxed himself fully, and resumed his training after garnering his strength again.


_____________________________________________________________________

End of Control Weather App. WC: 1194/900
"π’―π’½π‘’π“‡π‘’π’»π‘œπ“‡π‘’, 𝐼 𝒢𝓂."

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