Making the Blood Boil

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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Kell Sangros
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Re: Making the Blood Boil

Post by Kell Sangros » Tue Oct 27, 2020 2:16 pm

Warvanus watched as the Sovereign brought their pathetic souls back to their temporarily repaired bodies. Sovereign was a Master in the Arcane arts of the Dark Side, Warvanus would give Sovereign that. While Warvanus was versed in them himself this was not his forte and that was fine. They were all cogs of the same machine. Was his act hasty? No, he carried out his Emperor’s command and it had sent a message to the rest. He still had other leaders to gather to bring to the Emperor. That would be his next course of action once the Emperor gave him leave.

He listened as the Emperor made the decree, never had he thought to be conferred the title of Darth. The Emperor had honored him, he would do all in his power to show he is worthy of such an honor. Warvanus’ loyalty to the Emperor to Darth Tormentous was absolute. From that GA prison to now that bond of loyalty grew stronger and steadfast. He knew this, as Warvanus did.

Darth Warvanus he thought to himself. He liked the ring of it.

Once he was done as commanded he showed the rest out. Once outside the chambers Warvanus had commanded them to resume their duties and responsibilities that the shuttle they came aboard in would take them back to Moraband. Once they were out of his sight he returned to the Emperor’s chamber where the carbonite slab laid, and the Emperor and the High Priest stood. He joined them.

Warvanus watched the Carbonite slab activate and the thawing process commence, he watched with a level of detachment it was not long ago that Warvanus himself was a carbonite slab though not a table but a portrait on the wall. Inwardly he sneered thinking of the fate of the man responsible, that man who hung suspended in bacta with no arms or legs, next he would take his eyes but such matters would have to wait as he watched the Dragon King being released from Carbonite’s hold. He wondered inwardly what choice Blood would make. Would he submit before the Emperor? Part of him hoped he would, Blood had taken him in when Tormentous was on his pilgrimage what felt like lifetimes ago, he had helped him train, and it was during this time that Warvanus ripped a lot of the secrets from the Force. Blood could still be useful to the greater cause. To see Blood perish would be a waste of a valued asset. Warvanus brought his thoughts back to the present, and watched to see which choice Blood would make.
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Darth Warvanus
=Lord of War=
-=Emperor's Hand=
=The War Bringer=-
-=Master of the Warhound Battlegroup=-
===========================================

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Slade Xandir
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Re: Making the Blood Boil

Post by Slade Xandir » Wed Nov 04, 2020 3:58 am

It started with a hiss. Slade had felt irritated, and some deceitful reasoning within Blood had made him inwardly, or more accurate, mentally, smile to himself. Good. Finally, Slade was annoyed for some reason, it was good to Blood. But it didn't make him shut up. "That's fine. I'll be here. And whether you're strong or not, you can't get rid of me, whelp." His monologue was cut almost breathlessly short when air skated across the numb skin of the humanoid thing. That was what he was at this point, was he not? a thing. Some wretch that tried to make puzzle pieces fit where they were not meant to. Slapping hot and wet on the floor, he didn't move. Couldn't move. His body wouldn't obey. The body he couldn't control. How funny. The numbness rang through his body in a buzz that nulled soon enough to life, then the buzz returned in a hum that he began to feel. It scored his body, every tendon muscle and sinew with a low simmer of agony until he knew fully he was in fact alive. And then began to crave the silent cavern he floated through! Take me back! His hiss was incoherent, but his heart beat it once it it came to.
Take me back.

The void reminded him of THE Void. Absence. Where he was free to feel nothing, hear nothing, be nothing. He was a grain amongst a sea of unnamed and unvoiced billions upon billions, mute little specs just like him. There was comradery there-

Here in this cold and painful place, there was none...none except the one who lie in his Sire's sword, and the essence in that same man's soul.

A glacialized left eye betwixt a molten acidized right glossed open, staring blind at shaped, unseeing, flexing their ability with rapid darts over walls, shapes, papers, bodies, or what he thought was. Obsidian arms sprung out, gripped on the floor beneathe with onyx nails and held as his lower half braced to match. Lower limbs locked feet claws into the base beneathe him as his mind attempted to interpret what the Force was referring to, pinging back sensory information as he trembled like some feral and rabid creature. Wings unhinged from behind him and held firm a stance that feigned a promise of flight as though they were even remotely capable of being commanded of it, let alone guided at the moment. All he was...all of him..
He was a liar.

Chest heaved with every inhale, growing in girth as he was able to use more and more portion of his lung capacity with every take, limbs growing steadier as oxygen returned to fuel what little of him tried to remain on this tortured plane. Almost as if he wasn't allowed peace of knowing solo, things writhed beneathe his skin, as those aforementioned Orbalisks too began to wake. The spawn of the prior laid, stronger than their parents, the plan B for a surviving host. A stronger set of armor for the bastard, should he be able to live long enough to use it.
Shapes began to solidify, and blobs began to harden around the blurry edges.

His connection to the Force now was more than just feeling the presences of the 3 that stayed within the room. It honed and narrowed to the trio, and then the blind Sithian turned to stare at the most potent of the three. The one he knew the most intimately. The one who's venom had still stung his left eye in such a cold grip that even had his sight come back, there would be no forgetting that siren winter.
He couldn't speak.
Something in his throat denied him that. Something hard, something that felt massive and obtrusive, but in all reality was small, and tightly lodged in flesh that hadn't moved in however long he was locked in the Nothing. a ragged attempt to swallow wouldn't budge the pendant gem the latest and greatest Arcanist had laid to rest within his gullet.
He could not utter more than a hiss before silence held his tongue. Nothing more, lest the Archanist allow it. Or even, should the Sorcery be undone by the Dark One, Himself, should he have the skill to unweave the leash the master sorcerer cast around Blood's throat.

Why was he still alive? Why had he been spared?
Practicality.
Should he have been in Tormentous' shoes, he would have done the same thing. His only difference would have been the use of mind control to keep the beast within under his thumb, but why do that when you have two Hands and your own brute strength that can singularly destroy them?

'Because you're not strong enough on your own....

'I will be.' The figure before him began to take actual colors now, being less resolute in the Force as his sensory organs began to admit to him what was happening.
He could see faces.... One eye could, atleast.
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Silas Karn
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Re: Making the Blood Boil

Post by Silas Karn » Wed Nov 04, 2020 6:30 pm

It seemed Blood had elected not to die. If not surely the fool would have struck out at Tormentous a final time. Sovereign could feel conflict within the dragon’s mind. A familiar taint coursed throughout the young Sith. A relic of the curse that lingered as not more than a shadow. Indeed the former Lord of the Sith had been defeated and cast down. However, it was a far cry from the abyss of loss either Sovereign or Tormentous had experienced.

Looking down at the conquered creature Sovereign acknowledged a truth even he had turned away from during his last talk with his oldest rival. ‘Silas created all of this, his defeat, forged the future of this wretched galaxy. Had that Jedi fell alongside the empress and her hired hand, had he emerged triumphant…there would be no Tormentous.’ The High Priest allowed a slight grin as he noticed Blood’s inability to speak. “Ah yes that, a safeguard against the unknown.”

Sovereign extended his right hand and dispersed the fragment such that Blood could properly respond. “It could serve as a focus in casting aside such an unsightly visage upon which you derive your persona. The apprentice first made known to me, the ready servant of Darth Tormentous, such an entity still persist does it not? Or is there another impetus behind the struggle I can sense within you?” With the vast knowledge and mastery of sorcery the High Priest held alongside the crystal forged from the life of another Sovereign could in many ways either reverse or channel the taint that had taken Slade.

Before the fall of Eshan Silas had always held out hope that Tormentous would be defeated in his presence and allow him to separate the Mandalorian from the Sith. Of course this hope died with Silas. Looking upon the fallen drake it was neither pity nor mercy but a desire to further the power of the Sith that drove Sovereign. How this former Dark Lord would rise anew bore great importance for what lay ahead.

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Re: Making the Blood Boil

Post by Jacobi Wylcott » Wed Nov 18, 2020 3:59 am

The time had finally come for the Dragon King to find himself. Darth Tormentous had been patient enough. Should Blood still lack the whit to at a minimum understand himself in this situation then so he was lacking of worth. The Dark One knew though that the Dragon was not spent but he was full of untapped potential. Too long had the Dragon supposed himself as Lord when he was not ready for the honor. This was a humbling and a setting of the stage. To effectively replace Blood with Warvanus. It was especially strategic - Warvanus would soon prove himself again and again as worthy of the status and he would never lack in resolve to defend himself against the vultures that may covet his position. It was then a message to Blood that he had failed and was not within Tormentous’ graces any longer. He would have to remember himself and become greater than ever. This was purpose to be more or fall short forever.

He left the Jidai Maras upon the clasp on his back. He would not need it for this moment. Subjugation was done now it was time to atone and stand up from his failings. Tormentous had no suspicion that Blood would not kneel though should he turn from the Dark One and betray everything - then Blood would not be worthy of Tormentous’ steel.

Just as soon he would shove the Dragon right outside the Harbinger’s closest airlock and deny him a worthy death and then perhaps after expiration allow Sovereign his entertainment of toying with a damned spirit. Perhaps a nice imposition into a slave’s body - yes - perhaps the one without arms would do for the greater shame of Blood should he choose to spit on Tormentous’ hand.

Darth Tormentous remained in place - he offered nothing to Blood save for a single word given in an echoing bass tone that reverberated through the room. It beheld the dominion of worlds within it and it begat a past so horrendous to those that had dared defy him that Blood would feel its impending doom as an iced grip upon his own heart. The left eye, venomous and of yellow glean stared upon Blood with tasteful abandon - how this Dragon King would be put to use and set away from his prior and pathetic existence. The right dead eye stared upon Blood with doom in its mirror. It wanted to see Blood flayed and spread wide just as Derric Starr had been done. Beheaded by Tormentous on Dromund Kaas - Derric Starr’s body was then dismembered and sent to the corners of Tormentous’ Empire as a message to those who would oppose him while the skull was set upon his throne. Too the right eye yearned this for Blood’s case - yet Tormentous would not allow his son to expire without a moment of redemption and the promise of a rise to something far more.

And so it had come to pass that the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Tormentous set his gaze upon Blood, the King of Dragons and Lord of Sojourn.

And he bellowed forth his will.

“Kneel.”
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Kell Sangros
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Re: Making the Blood Boil

Post by Kell Sangros » Wed Nov 18, 2020 1:46 pm

Darth Warvanus watched the events with a level of detachment. He felt no pity but yet also felt no seething hatred for the former Dark Lord. He knew why Tormentous was sparing Blood. Blood still had a use, and Blood was powerful and would make a boom to the Sith as a whole. He understood the principle of using a resource until it was no longer useful. It was the Sith way.

He had wondered what Blood would do, would he kneel? Would he resist? Or would he kneel and then set out to work against the Emperor? All these scenarios and more raced through the mind of the War-Bringer. If he did kneel he would have to be watched. As he watched a memory bubbled to the surface of his mind.

He had just become Tormentous’ apprentice and the first time he had met the being would one day become Blood. He remembered the attack, an apprentice going for an Acolyte. He had been a threat to Blood even then. It was then he learned out of sheer instinct the ability to absorb and dissipate energy. He remembered he had not been fully successful but enough to survive. Now , here he stood Hand to the Emperor, The Warhound, the War-Bringer , stronger now than he had ever been and he would continue to increase his power and strength and he knew Blood would do the same. Maybe this was a setback to his plans, to his schemes but everybody in this room had at one time encountered a setback.

He came back to himself as the memory re-emerged into the depths of his mind. He watched and wondered what would Lord Blood do next?
===========================================
Darth Warvanus
=Lord of War=
-=Emperor's Hand=
=The War Bringer=-
-=Master of the Warhound Battlegroup=-
===========================================

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Slade Xandir
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Re: Making the Blood Boil

Post by Slade Xandir » Thu Nov 19, 2020 7:37 am

The hard and threateningly sharp dazzle faded physically from the throat of Blood's catalyst, or what he thought was so much enough for more than the barest of breaths to pass through it. He tempted it, testing the newly freed voicebox. The prior hiss rolled into a growl, and though the sound was surprisingly foreign to his ears, dulled by sounds not being so readily available, he felt a pleasure of just being able to, at least. The figures before him were still a blur, but basic motion and pass of scent within the Force told Blood who was who. In a situation such as this, would he need any more than that?

Voice of the Ghost passed as vibrations to the draconian. Nothing more. Blood couldn't help but to eye the whispering blur with something resembling an annoyance, as though it were the Ghost's fault he was in this circumstance. The shuffle of motion to the Dark One's other side snatched Blood's attention, a much more minute but familiar scent within the midst. An inhale curled his greyed lips, and raised his right nostril. Chest rose as he climaxed the inhale, his tongue ran wetly over pointed incisors, heading back to much more pointed dentes. Kell. The graduated acolyte who clearly blossomed past his due. Ripe. Ready.
'I suppose I've made you wait long enough...' his stomach near grumbled, body easing as his head creased at an intrigued angle. Heart pace slowed rather than quickened, muscles coiling and releasing as he began to stand, the trembles leaving as his mind then arched to lay out a plan. For what? For when? He swallowed, the motion slow and almost clumsy. He didn't know. Something. Anything. He had to be ready for anything.

Just that quickly, his thought convexed from their primal hunger into much more building blocked intricacies. The future. Anything could happen. And he would need to be ready. Blood darted his eyes from blur to blob back to blur, his need to know what exactly lay awaiting his future, his place in this strange home to the now estranged devil. The drawl of his calm state grew in pitch as his ignorance spiked a hidden wave of paranoia. What if he were going to be a slave?! What if he were stuck in a room of ysalmari and forced to do manual labor for eternity? What if he were ripped from this body somehow and cast back into the Force? What...what was his future??

Anxiety coddled his rampant thoughts, schemes already mapping out the different rooms of Dromund Kaas' prison, how many floors and turns, the Spire's few exits, and how it would impact him on footing, where his next escape would have to be. He couldn't figure out-

Before the vibrations came to sit sharp and heavy on his ears, the Dragon King felt the stare hit him first. The thoughts slowed to a cautioned stall as he wondered if his Sire had heard his vivacious mind cog, but it wasn't made clear. At least not to the Sithian before he was engulfed in a blanket of dominion.

It was suffocating. In fact, Blood had even ceased to breathe momentarily as that unheard sound drove hard yet gentle across Blood's dull hearing. He felt Tormentous' influence as though that murmured sound swelled his size beyond that of even this vessel, and placed it direct on the parasite. Something lethal loomed in that cascade of weight on Blood. Self preservation. That was all he had left. It was not cowardice, nor backpedaling. It was the need to survive, and when you were out domineered-
If you can't eat them, join them.

Wings rehinged behind him, clasping in a ruffle and hung limp, as his half capacity senses bode him to submit to the will pushed breathtakingly on him. Shoulder blades cut forward as spine curled along with it, lowering and eventually pushing him to half of his height. Folding in a low curve, left knee fell upon the floor, while the right caught his carved subtly in position and held. Blood still thirsted to have eye contact, to see his Master's face, his form, his body language.
But intimately enough, he knew. After that fight, it had been proven. Ebony groved arms perpendiculared the cold floor, and clawed hands splayed, relaxed and somewhat humble. Dim sight once again sought Tormentous' face, but a swift neglect of the thought cast it off. And head then bent, crossing that milken sight to the floor.

Tormentous was back. And Blood's mission had been successful.
A sigh bled through coal lips.
And the Dragon King waited for the next bumble of vibrations to crest whatever came after.
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Silas Karn
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Re: Making the Blood Boil

Post by Silas Karn » Thu Nov 19, 2020 8:48 pm

Sovereign’s eyes narrowed as he witnessed Blood’s response. The crude form of what to the Echani was a perversion of a purer acolyte denied the priest respite in the matter. Instead the ever calculating Sovereign reached out through the Force and touched upon the mind of the dragon directly (Telepathy). Yet, it was not to the beast that the High Priest spoke but to the man. ‘Do you still yet lack the resolve to reclaim your flesh?’ It was a potent word injected to the very core of the fallen lord’s soul.

The aberration that had been made manifest through a familiar taint was only that to the priest. A skin deep façade that would need to be culled if this Sith was ever to rise up and claim their rightful place as a true threat to the galaxy. Sovereign had kept his word to Tormentous and everything that had been ‘Blood’ yet remained and it was this detestable abomination that knelt in defeat. With the immense breadth of freedom Tormentous allowed it was still within the High Priest’s authority to conduct this trial.

If the flesh that had given way to the dragon was just that, just clay later molded into an intended form, then mere meddling would not avail the priest’s efforts. As such the Sovereign injected his will, his influence, and pushed back the mind of the beast, the entity that was Blood (Control Mind). This exertion was not an attempt to undo the mind of the dragon but to mitigate its influence such that both it and its host were on equal ground.

With the two entities forced to finally confront one another on level footing for likely the first moment since the taint had claimed Slade either side could claim dominance. Or perhaps, a new entity forged from either the conflict or merger between the two sides may be allowed to surface naturally. It was to the calculation of the Sovereign that the finesse and simplicity of his influence would likely not draw the ire of Tormentous nor questioning from Warvanus. Yet through this effort the Sith might be augmented, garnering advantage in the face of what might have been a great loss.

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