SithLore

Deep within the tomb of Tulak Hord, or rather the last remnants of the once majestic structure that had served as the famed Sith Lord’s final resting place stood Silas Karn. The Sovereign was filled with rage as he unleashed torrents of sith sorcery and volleys of lightning in all directions. Screams of absolute anguish filled the air as the Lord of Eshan could not find what he had sought for so long. “Ridiculous, no shred of evidence of his existence, no so much as a tattered cloth that had once graced his presence. If there was any Sith I need to learn from its Hord and no craft I possess can reach him!” Silas was irate. No meditation, no use of sorcery could unearth a path to the being attributed as the greatest master of the sword. Once more Silas found his self at an impasse unable to capitalize on his access to what remained of the ancient Sith in order to surpass Tormentous. After long minutes of furious venting Silas finally calmed his self and sat down at the entrance to the now derelict antechamber attributed to what he believed the final piece of the puzzle. If there was no way to further separate his self in mastery of the blade perhaps another path lay open to him. Closing his eyes the Sovereign began to meditate on the Force and his ever-present struggle to gain greater knowledge in order to increase his power. Time seemed to hold no sway as he allowed his thoughts and consciousness to depart from his physical shell. Images of the accursed sword, Jidai Maras, as it had cleaved his armor and stolen his victory upon his moment of triumph over Tormentous flickered within his Silas’s mind. ‘What is it that I am once more reminded? Why does that relic haunt my thoughts?’ Silas pondered. His eyes snapping open Silas took his leave of Hord’s tomb without so much as another utterance. On the whole of Korriban not even a full percent of its vast territories had been reclaimed by the Red Cauldron. The Valley of the Sith Lords and the Academy along with its docks had felt the greatest touch of Tormentous’s workforce. Yet even with the addition of his own temple, perhaps the Sith Lord’s future resting place, few new structures had been raised. The lion’s share of the work had gone toward accommodating Tormentous’s forces during their stays on-world. Pens for beasts, barracks, mess halls, bare essentials and all a good distance removed from the famed valley. The ancient academy had itself not yet been fully restored nor any of its amenities outside of the necessary docking bays. Silas, who was soon to accept a title unknown to the galaxy for centuries, had ordained for his use a modest keep several kilometers south of the valley. It is to this domain that the Sovereign returned. “To match that craft, to perhaps augment my own arsenal in such a way as to mitigate its existence, that must be the source of my confliction.” Silas mused.

***Darkside Alchemy– 700 word requirement, Application Start***

Within the vast dimly lit main chamber of Silas’s compound were all the necessary equipment to complete the task the Sovereign had set his mind to. Alongside a forge, workbench, and stores of unrefined ore as well as plasteel containers full of broken weapons and worn out armor was an ornate and rune etched circle that served the Echani Lord in his meditations. Before any craft could be formed Silas would first have to access the necessary knowledge. Assuming a meditation pose within the circle Silas closed his eyes and proceeded to clear his mind. Calling upon the immensely potent connection to the Living Force he possessed, Silas summoned forth the apex of his strength within its unseen waters. As Silas neared his limit he looked beyond the finite stretches of his compound to the vast barren face of Korriban. The planet itself seemed to Silas as a fountain of endless darkness and it was from this well that Silas achieved the heightened potency so acclaimed of those that fell to the Dark Side. Minutes had passed in this refined act which would serve as the foundation for all that was to follow. Ever since Silas had accepted his darker nature he had severed his former bond to the Sith Lord Tyrannus and yet even now his first impulse was to reach out to the specter for guidance. However, an almost arrogant pride in his newfound strength denied Silas this route. Yet, the inspiration to call upon the arcane arts of the Sith of old was not lost on the Sovereign. Stretching out both of his hands Silas began the ritual necessary to call forth the much maligned sorcery. A crimson aura soon gleamed from each of his palms as he slowly pulled them together. Almost in every circumstance since Silas had discovered the technique the Echani Lord had only used the art to draw upon the Sith Lord’s from long past. However, especially now that his bond to Dooku had been severed utilizing the famed magic’s of the Sith required far more time and effort. As Silas’s palms touched together the link to the metaphysical plane that served as the basis for all Sith Sorcery was forged. This nearly mythical connection served not only to enhance a Dark Side practitioner’s potency within the Force or allow them to call forth lost souls. Sith Sorcery connected the user to an ancestral pool of knowledge and cumulative insight from every other sentient that had every gained access to its power. When augmented with the almost limitless potential of the Force the arcane arts of the Sith was capable of such immense acts of such terrifying prowess as to influence battles between entire fleets of starships. It was this immensely dangerous power that Silas now linked his own soul. Shards of fiery light began to escape from the epicenter between Silas’s hands as he slowly freed them from each other. Opening his eyes once more Silas could hear whispers in the ancient Sith language. Standing to his feet Silas gathered a large crucible alongside sand from Korriban’s desert landscape and filled the vessel. With the use of magnetic separation Silas was able to produce enough iron to fill the crucible before placing the container in the forge. Minutes passed as the material was heated to a molten glow. Silas then took out the crucible and poured its contents into a mold. Using a smith’s hammer, the Sovereign then beat the metal into its intended forms that of an armor plate. Silas looked at his creation with disgust and then cast it aside. Yet, the Echani lord could not simply step away from his work. Looking at the floor Silas could still feel the palpable influence of the Dark Side. Looking back to his store of components Silas studied the various metals and ores before stopping upon a truly disturbing cache of mineral. “Volcanic glass, obsidian selected from the vast mountainous crags that litter the barren landscape of Korriban.” Silas stood eerily focused to his task as he repeated his steps to produce an alloy not from sand derived from shattered mountains but from the heart of Korriban itself. However, as Silas looked upon the molten ore after once more filling the mold he paused. With a trembling hand Silas stretched out his left hand and secured a small vibro knife with his right. Silas’s pulse raced as the realization of what his actions were leading too. The whispers of ancient Sith speech seemed to grow deeper in tone and more present within Silas’s mind. “Of course, simply wielding the Force upon metal would not lead to such a vile artifact as the Jidai Maras. Blood, perhaps simply the iron found in the source of life for all sentients or through the knowledge gained through opening the rift to the darkness combined with the trace elements of…” Silas cut his own words off as his assessment was still without context. Following through with the sweep of his left hand Silas opened a small wound in his right and allowed his blood to touch upon his creation. Silas then sealed the wound with the strength of the Dark Side energies within him (Repair). With this addition Silas finished the armor plate and then set it down at the nearby workbench. The metal had taken a polished sheen alongside an eerie grey hue. Surveying the finished plate Silas could feel a darkness or perhaps residual taint of the Dark Side itself emanating from the metal. Silas did not rush to forge more metal, instead electing to close his eyes and focus upon the whispers still flickering within his consciousness. ‘It’s in the blood. Beyond that adepts can likely taint or bless the craft according to their alignment. I understand now. With Tormentous’s own natural disposition, upon learning this either through his connection to the Sith of old or by his own talent in sorcery there could only be one outcome. The Jidai Maras, I can only envision how many acolytes Tormentous slew in your creation.’

***Story Focused Segment***

Silas’s eyes snapped open with renewed purpose. Departing from his private compound Silas boarded a speeder-bike and ventured out to the academy. Striding in as if he owned the whole of Korriban Silas’s advance was halted by Massassi guards. The hulking beasts raised their blaster rifles keen on slaying the vagrant Sith who simply opened the left side of his long coat to reveal the crest Tormentous had granted him. Recognizing the Dark Lord’s seal the pair separated to allow Silas passage, yet they remained a short distance behind him as he made his way through the partially restored ancient Sith Academy. The dimly lit halls eventually gave way to a grand antechamber that served as the primary training chamber for the whole of the academy. It was within this chamber that Gavin Roke held court as headmaster. The middle aged Togruta man wore as simple form-fitting black garb of a Sith Lord. As Silas made his final approach two additional instructors took to each of Gavin’s flanks in potential defense of their master. “Who stands before me with such a defiant demeanor?” Gavin spoke first, his right hand moving closer to the hilt of his lightsaber. “As your High Priest I have come here this day as you possess that which I require…” Silas spoke ominously as he once more displayed the crest of the Red Cauldron. Gavin was no fool and Silas’s tone did nothing to dissuade him from arming his self. The mostly quiet antechamber soon echoed the discharge from Gavin’s lightsaber as the headmaster drew the blade toward the interloper. “Unless you are here to train or to seek council you will depart now or risk the wrath of Lord Blood in whom I was granted absolute authority within the confines of this academy.” It was a bold charge yet it was met with an audible scoff. The citrine hue of Silas’s eyes gleamed in delight, “Oh dear me, it seems there has been a misunderstanding. I am not constricted by the hierarchy connected to your ‘Lord Blood’ as my prestige is only matched by Tormentous his self. Furthermore, it is neither insight nor physical advancement I seek, it is your life that I require. The very blood that grants you life is necessary for me to advance in my craft.” Silas might have well screamed a passionate attacking cry for the reaction his words received. The two instructors at Gavin’s side ignited their dual-bladed lightsabers as the Massassi trained their blasters on Silas. Gavin, for his part, called forth the fullness of his master level connection to the Force. The headmaster’s level of potency surprised Silas as it far exceeded the rank and file that dwelt within the academy. Undaunted, Silas extended both of his hands to the full length of his reach at each side and unleashed a simultaneous telekinetic volley directed at the Massassi. The bursts erupted upon the beasts’ weapons, pushing the hulking creatures back disarmed from their rifles. The two instructors took the opportunity to charge toward Silas; sure the High Priest could not manage a defense in time. Silas grinned as though in continual motion of his mind he forged a link to two of the hilts secured to the small of his back. Swiftly pivoting his arms toward his new assailants Silas launched the hilts, delving ever further into the seductive power of the Dark Side. Moments before the two radiant crimson blades of the instructors made purchase on their intended target, the hilts Silas freed from the sleeves of his long coat ignited in arcing sweeps. Almost in rebuking disdain for Silas’s perceived saber throws the pair halted their movement to quickly deflect the assault. Silas eyed Gavin with a knowing grin even as the headmaster channeled the Force to his free hand. With a degree of strain Silas launched the last two hilts from his back in similar fashion to the former blades as he repositioned his hands back toward the Massassi who had recovered from his first attack and where now brandishing dual-bladed vibroblades. Even as Silas did this the pair of sabers the instructors had so deftly swept aside pivoted back toward the teachers in proper form. This continued movement stunned the instructors, of whom only one managed a defense. The instructor that had been on Gavin’s left flank was so sure that Silas had simply throw a lightsaber telekinetically and that this action was handled the moment she deterred the attack that once the lightsaber swept back around the teacher was left defenseless. Having already continued her advance toward Silas, the instructor’s sense of danger came too sluggishly to allow the Iridonian time to defend against the lethal blade. As such, the Iridonian was cleaved in twain just below her waist. Of course with the famed resilience of her species this was not simply a deathblow. As the wail of agony from the downed instructor rang out it was met with the loud grunts and strained battlecry of the Massassi who were swiftly pinned down by Silas’s mastery of the long lost art of telekinetic lightsaber combat. Though his three allies seemed outmatched by the vile arcane art Gavin stood unflinchingly, seething with hatred. Stretching forth his left hand Gavin unveiled a rare gift all his own. Throughout the whole of the Sith only a handful matched the headmaster’s knowledge of the Force and this was soon on full display. Vibrant light of the most lethal and nature shot forth with tremendous velocity as Gavin cackled, enjoying the endorphin release alongside his sure victory. Silas, who had yet to lay a finger upon the hilts of his own making still, had two free hands. Though it would require immense focus and great demands upon his stamina Silas would see this attack quelled in yet another ancient manner. Resting his left hand on the top of the hilt belonging to his primary lightsaber Silas stretched out his right palm and channeled the darkness from the ‘gate’ he had opened before ever setting foot in the academy. As the first crackle of Gavin’s Force Lightning reached Silas its sting was immediately mitigated within a sphere of its own creation before Silas’s hand. (Absorb/Deflect Energy, Block Force Ability) “Tutaminis, this technique has a more recent history but of course widespread use and knowledge of the art has been all but lost.” Silas boasted even as the heat from Gavin’s one-handed volley gathered in his palm. “No matter, even if you manage such a defense. This battle has no outcome where you walk away, High Priest! There is no possible way you can maintain hold and positioning of those sabers and contend directly with me,” At first almost shouting before ending his rebuke of Silas in an prophetic, somber tones, Gavin would challenge the full extent of the Sovereign’s’ combat ability. However, even as the headmaster launched toward Silas his list of allies grew shorter. The Massassi to Silas’ right side had misjudged a feint of Silas’s telekinetically held blade and in so doing lost both of its hands. As the creature fell to its knees in agony Silas retrieved his primary lightsaber with his left hand before igniting it with both hands securing the hilt. Gavin swiftly closed the remaining distance between him and Silas and unloaded a series of powerful strikes in a classic Juyo opening. Silas’s levity ceased as Gavin’s true strength was made known. For all of Silas’s misgivings surrounding Lord Blood’s appointment the young Sith had chosen well in granting leadership of the academy to Gavin. Despite possessing the skill and knowledge beyond even that of a Jedi Master, Gavin was far from reaching the heights of those that had founded the Red Cauldron. Withdrawing the unused blades close to him Silas soon fended of the assault while still utilizing a form only similar in efficiency to that of Makashi. Starting the confrontation with Soresu the form allowed Silas to conserve his remaining stamina and focus his efforts to manipulate the telekinetically held lightsabers and refine their aim. Allowing Gavin to control the flow of the fight while denying the Togruta positioning, Silas swiftly moved the sabers to each of Gavin’s flanks. Another pained cry echoed throughout the antechamber as Silas stole the momentum of the battle. The last Massassi fell, decapitated by a swift sweep of Silas’s crimson blade. Even as this occurred the pincer maneuver of his two blades force Gavin to give ground and highlighted the weakness of Juyo. Cuts and burns began to pour across Gavin’s flesh as the headmaster could not defend against so many simultaneous attacks. The situation swiftly grew grimmer as Silas recalled the third freed saber and added its lethal flame to his unrelenting march. Gavin’s final ally allowed a groan as he was impaled and the headmaster left alone. Now with four lightsabers swinging independently of the other Gavin’s fate seemed sealed. Though there were other Massassi serving as guards the scene within the antechamber would garner no suspicion as such conflicts were commonplace. Additionally, the few remaining instructors were either too cautious or perhaps just swift to capitalize on the power vacuum that was sure to occur, that aid Gavin in his desperate fight to survive. With his attention undivided Silas holstered his primary lightsaber and began to systematically tear down Gavin’s guard. In moments the headmaster was overwhelmed and Silas succeeded in carving through Gavin’s right leg. As the headmaster fell to one knee Silas towered over him triumphantly. “I thank you for your service to the Red Cauldron.” Silas allowed Gavin a final commendation before sealing his victory with a single swipe from the invisible hand stayed just long enough to do so. In his triumph Silas returned the wayward hilts to their rightful place before surveying the carnage. Three dead, and one critically injured, however Silas would proceed to simply walk away dragging the broken form of the headmaster telekinetically as he went.

***Story Segment End***

Returning to his compound Silas placed Gavin’s headless corpse on the workbench and grabbed his vibro knife. The next step of Silas’s introduction into Dark Side Alchemy seemed clear; carving out the headmaster’s heart. ‘The Jedi, prior to the rise of the empire believed they had located the biological element within the blood that signified one’s capacity to use the Force. Of course this was likely the effect rather than the cause but shortsightedness was historically the cause of their downfall. Nevertheless even if the ancient Sith were ignorant of this existence it would follow that the use of blood, particularly that of a Force sensitive individual, would carry that element with it.’ Silas pondered the very building blocks of the art of alchemy as he tore out the Togruta’s heart. Using a mortar and pestle, Silas then ground the flesh of Gavin’s heart into a fine broth. “I’m all but certain the element that separates my work from forging an artifact such as the Jidai Maras is a rite or ceremony. I’d wager Tormentous took far greater care in the selection of his victim and the bond he might have shared alongside a more active use of Sith Sorcery could almost certainly bond a vengeful spirit to a weapon.” Silas assured his self aloud as he repeated his earlier work in gathering the volcanic glass and separating the iron. Of course in the age of blaster rifles and their ilk mere steel would ill suit an active combatant so Silas added the necessary alloys to elevate the metal’s defensive qualities far beyond the iron he started with. Again Silas placed each component in a crucible and fed it to the powerful forge within his compound. Within an hour the alloy was fully fused into a molten fluid and with it Silas poured the mixture into the mold just as he had before. Standing over the super-heated alloy Silas took the Vibro knife and reopened the wound in his hand, pouring his blood upon the metal. “Now for the final component,” Silas spoke with a vile grin on his face. Retrieving the mortar he had prepared Silas added with equal measure to his own offering the life blood of the former headmaster Gavin Roke. The obsidian alloy completed in composition Silas then took a hammer and began to beat the plate into proper form. Minutes past as sweat poured over the pale countenance of the Sovereign, before finally Silas’s work was complete. Placing the finished armor plate in water to seal its form Silas then polished the armor to a fine sheen. His arduous tasks finished Silas was at last able to release his control of his sorcery and shut close the gate that allowed access to the true void of the Dark Side. Exhausted from his long hours of study, physical exertions in both craft and combat, and finally the strain of his use of Sith Sorcery, Silas placed his final work down on an ornate table next to a finely crafted chair. Sitting down Silas’s eyes grew heavy and sleep seemed unavoidable. Yet, in the quiet, as the forge was halted in its work and the magnetic separator silenced in its craft, a dark tongue reached Silas’s ears; whispers akin to the ancient Sith speech. Startled, Silas’s eyes widened and he focused upon the armor plate. A powerful Dark Side aura now emanated from the metal but more than that murmurs and hushed tones akin to the cryptic knowledge typically only heard through the accessing of Sith Sorcery now echoed through the veil from Silas’s creation. “The first of many, once completed there is no telling how great the impact will be upon me.” Silas spoke with a degree of excitement. His mastery of alchemy seemed to be yet another step on a very steep and quite slick slope.

***Darkside Alchemy– 700 word requirement, Application End***

Silas’s armor and clothing had taken several shapes over his long years in combat. His famed silver heirloom battlemaster armor he had recovered on Eshan so many cycles ago had now long been tainted by his own hand. Yet, even the inspiration behind the empire’s royal guard failed to truly encapsulate his needs after coming into his own as an acolyte of the Force. Silas would never see his self encased in heavy combat gear akin to the Mandalorian’s or some ridiculous grasp for power like Lord Blood’s Orbalisk armor. Not even the happy medium of imperial commando gear or even some personalized tribute to savagery forged from the bones of trophy kills could facilitate Silas’s needs. As Silas continued to produce plating, inspiration struck in the form of a redesign of his to be newly minted armor. Breaking down his former heirloom armor, Silas detached the plates from the armor-weave until the point at which all that remained was the basic lining of the suit.

Though his original intent in exploring Tulak Hord’s tomb had not panned out it did provide Silas with depictions of the famed Sith Lord. With some additional research the basis for the master swordsman’s own armor had been reconstructed. Though the awkward looking helmet Hord donned in ancient times would have to be ignored the otherwise sleeker look of the Sith’s armor could be incorporated. Of course, as an Echani Silas would not stray far from the core concept which had given birth to the Royal Guard several key elements could be used to refine Silas’s new armor. The front facing guards augmented behind by perhaps a cortosis woven cape that began at the waist and flowed down just above the ankles and all of which was integrated into a full body suit that in Hord’s time was likely just animal hide rather than the armor-weave Silas had become accustomed to. Though Hord had utilized a crude vibroshield integrated to his off-hand’s gauntlet alongside a larger shoulder guard on that side of his body, Silas had seen the limitations of such defensive equipment and would retain the Bothan inspired gauntlets of his own creation. The design of Hord’s chest-piece could be replicated however, and with matching the off-hand’s shoulder guard with the main-hand’s it would bring the suit more inline with Silas’s obvious Echani biases. Utilizing a more modern helmet that bore a more signature panoramic visor akin to the palace guard on Eshan alongside and interwoven hooded cowl that could cover the helmet as needed, Silas finished the design for the new suit.

It took some requisitions and with the chaos surrounding the academy such shipments eroded from hours to a full day but in the end Silas acquired the necessary cortosis woven cloak and additional armor-weave necessary to finally complete his work. To further illustrate just how out of the traditional hierarchy Silas was the Sovereign did not adhere to the darkest color schemes held by the multitude that considered their selves Sith. Instead, Silas interlocked the newly forged plating with a new platinum hued weave, cape and hood. The platinum fabrics would contrast immensely with the polished obsidian alloy plating that would now adorn the suit. The most difficult and final touch was the helmet as gathering the necessary systems for a proper HUD that would rival any imperial trooper took time. However, in the end Silas had completed his new armor, a suit that resembled a blend of Echani and ancient Sith in inspiration. And upon donning his helmet the true might of his craft took hold. The palpable taint from the armor plating fed both a subtle Dark Side energies as well as ancient sith speech in almost imperceptible whispers. Silas’s dark work was complete.

Blood, though busy, hadn't been absent in the affairs of Sith happenings. Even less so as Raven kept him updated on the subtle and bold happenings whenever they arose, along with the very acute details she had no problem providing. With less than a knock, she scanned his chambers within his dreaded ship, simply left called being the Naga, before she phantomed herself within the chambers via shadowed allowance. Coming out of the darkness, she hovered to the resting Sith Lord, the draconian who only just closed his eyes for some sort of solace from the everlasting pain he received from either the Dark Side, the Orbalisks, or even worst, both. Regardless, he found his peace momentarily, but upon her presence he acknowledged her with a hummed growl from those scaled lips of his.

"Mmmmn...what brings you, Katya? I trust it's enough for me to weigh against the ire you've suddenly awoken?" It was true; he didn't hide his emotions, no matter how far ranged they were. There was no point attempting to hide them form the pale gray miraluka-hybrid; her expertise in the Force was exceptional. She was near omniscient in her skills, hence why she made such a remarkable Phantom. With his eyes closed, crown tilted back against the back of the throne, he didn't see what exactly the petite cloaked woman was wearing, but none of that mattered. With her voice cutting through the ominous silence, the monotone and emotionless words hit him with surprise.

"Gavin, our headmaster within the Reach, has been slaughtered."

Blood didn't open his eyes, but the venom he had prepared in Raven's wake was now searching for whoever had done this terrible deed. Gavin was useful; had proven himself worthy of his rank as the Headmaster at the Sith Academies. Yet someone or something had managed to get within the Academy, and break through enough defenses to where the Headmaster himself had to get involved. Not only involved, but killed.

"Who did this." he demanded in a dense tone, heavy with dark fury. Yet in the milliseconds before Raven spoke, a voice called to him, the voice that had always been there for him, the voice that was his Mind, out of all times. She had a form, one she showed not often, but one he would carry with him throughout the totality of his life. A giggle, but the voice of an angel, an innocent child, but she was no innocent child. She was nothing more, but certainly nothing less, than the Void that he had been sprung from. She was the totality of Obvilvion, and those bell chime tones belonged to his own Maker...
Krynn.

"A curious thing to want to kill him...Decide...Is it a beacon? Or a trap. An Ally? Or an Enemy. Dare you test the waters? Or will you let them be what drowns you..."

It had dawned to him that he had to investigate this issue, firsthand. A pleased caress scored the nape of his neck and burned a path down his spine until it faded away. It was invigorating, but surely it was nothing more the resolve of the Dark Side, and the ghost of a voice in his head was-...was...

"Contact Warvanus; and tell him to prepare himself for accompanying me."

Within the shadow of her own standing, Raven disappeared through it as she opened the portal through darkness. And into the communications room she had drawn herself another, sucking out the nearest corner lights that soon didn't touch the left corner of the room. Hovering to a station of open Sith communication, she sent a single sentence to the connect of Lord Blood's most trusted Apprentice.

"Lord Blood requests you, Warvanus."

The Sith Warrior could be found in his personal gym. It was in the complex he had on Sojourn. The gym looked more like a dojo than it did a gym. Here the Sith Warrior known as Warvanus trained. In the Force, In the art of the Lightsaber, in Hand to hand combat he developed his martial skills just as much as his skills in the Darkside and in Lightsaber combat. In each corner stood a statue each with a different likeness. They were Exar Kun, Darth Bane, Darth Revan and Aloysius Kallig. Each statue represented beings that Warvanus had drew inspiration and teachings from. He at one time considered having Darth Maul’s likeness as he too was a war machine. The difference between them is Warvanus was not just limited to battle and war and had came across to the Sith Warrior as being inept. The fact that their order was in what Warvanus perceived to be a state of decline only pushed him to train harder, to prove to himself and his Master that he was worthy.

Those who had left and or betrayed their order were not worthy, they forsaken the ability to be called a Sith. He knew that there were forces that opposed his Master’s grab for power. Lord Blood was charismatic, and strong and ruthless. All qualities he respected in his Master. He alone remained, Lord Blood had overseen most of Warvanus’ training either directly or indirectly. Early in his apprenticeship while still loyal to Tormentous had been Blood’s rival. His attempts at the Warriors life only tempered him to be stronger. When he was finally accepted into the pack he had dedicated everything he was to proving his worth while increasing his power to better serve the pack. To serve his Master and now the pack was all but gone, he alone remained. “The strong rule the weak” Tormentous had often told him. There was truth in his words. Even the enemy can speak the truth at times. He had felt his command increase and his power grow the more he trained. His loyalty was stronger than durasteel, he would not be wavered.

Eventually the session was over and he powered down his lightsaber and returned it to his belt. He walked out of his dojo like gym and refreshed himself, he dressed in a simple outfit. He entered his study and had barely sit to resume his research when the communicator came to life. He rose and went over to the device, accepted the transmission, a single sentence scrolled across the screen.


"Lord Blood requests you, Warvanus."

He knew it was from the one called Raven, his Master requested his presence, he would answer. He always had a shuttle prepared, both KL-PK1 and his agent Krieger were still missing, he had people looking into their location. He would address that later. He sent a reply to the transmission

“As my Master commands” he sent the message and immediately made his way to the hanger. En route he reached out with the Force to his Master (Telepathy) “I am on my way My Master”

Short time had passed when the shuttle had taken off and the course for the Naga laid in. Soon the shuttle was in hyperspace. While the shuttle fulfilled its laid in course Warvanus spent the time in meditation communing with the Darkside. Preparing for whatever laid ahead. It was a short trip, as the shuttle came out of hyperspace Warvanus took the pilot’s seat and opened a channel to the Naga

“Naga, this is Warbringer, permission to board”

***Sector R-5, Korriban***

Still tinkering within the confines of his personal compound Silas altered his standard load-out. Since learning and subsequent mastering telekinetic lightsaber combat Silas had carried with him four unadorned straight hilt lightsabers strapped to his back. However, with the new alterations to his armor they would now require more space or awkwardly stick out from his back. As such the Sovereign decided to amend his carried equipment to that of four Shoto style saber hilts to save space, alongside a small attachment that would more easily hold them. Once finished the hilts assembled two by two and held fast to the small of Silas’s back such that he could combat roll without encumbrance. Finally the time had come to rest from his efforts and Silas took to this task sitting cross-legged on the meditation circle within his domain. Whatever the larger concerns of the Sith were in relation to his earlier actions was so inconsequential to the phenomen that Silas now represented that he now allowed his mind to drift and the whispers emanating from his armor to flicker within his subconscious.

"Permission granted," he sent through the single click of his holowatch.


It wasn't long before Warvanus' ship had been docked and stationed within the holds of the massive ship, and even shorter of a period for Blood to be face to face with the intimidating Apprentice of his. Despite his 7 ft frame, Warvanus' quiet aura of chaotic vigor more than made up for their height difference. Blood himself radiated the immense touch of the Dark Side, his anger being pushed the more he contemplated this random being assaulting members of his hold, let alone the ones Tormentous had brought to helm for him to keep rule over. It was a troubling thing, indeed, and without much introduction other than a wisp of his personal Force touch welcoming Warvanus' in it's toxic and heated grasp, Blood immediately launched into his ire.

"There is someone who threatens our members, killing them off, slaughtering my Lords and dismembering their corpses. If I were a fool, I would let him be, but as I am not, I have read the signs of this mess. It was a careful and calculating assault. It was not sloppy in the sssslightest," he hissed. "But I know this was more than a simple quest for power. Gavin was strong, I have made sure of it before I appointed hm. But he was culled. And taken apart in a manner that only indicates this person is either a trophy-maker, or an Archanist. Their Force scent lingers on the place of murder, and we will track them to their den. From there, we will end their bloom, and bury them in pyres of rebels."

The Sith Lord was dressed in his ornamental armor, his chestplate gleaming gold and scarlet in the links of interwoven metal which it be. It was complimented by the plated and front-back floor-length loincloths he was wearing on his bottom half, long and thick spiked tail held to account the end of the trim's occasional snares and jagged tears that were beginning in the back cloths end. 7 ft tall, the peak of his frame was crowned by the two menacing horns, but around his neck was his jewl, his Dark Side amulet. Bound by a thong of gold and embraced by the top of his mesh chestpiece, the scarlet orb swirled with darkness, and only glinting through was the scarlet it once was. Flecks of the red could be visible it beered at long enough, but it was clear this man too knew sorcery.

Around his massive limbs, gold and garnet gemmed shackle bracers were wristguards and ankle bracers. Around his waist hung on a ink belt his sabers, the original wrist mount for them no longer fitting. They spoke of carnage and eased killing, their dragon fang hilts showing vengeful face in the bright lights of the Naga's hall, winking even more as Blood and Warvanus traveled to the piloting center. They needed this to be done with and as soon as posisble. With Raven pointing out what she had gathered from the scene, her Force perceptions leading them on, they had raced to Korriban, intent on finding this murderer.

Warvanus disembarked the shuttle, and immediately made his way to meet up with his Master face to face. When he was in his presence he bowed, when he rose and listened as his Master went right into business.

Someone was slaughtering Sith, a crime punishable by death. But one thing came to Warvanus as he listened. Gavin was strong so whoever had killed him was strong him or herself. So they were going to Korriban, it was one of the key worlds that Warvanus had yet to visit. He surmised it was essentially a tomb outside of the Academy. It was fitting they would destroy this enemy and leave their remains on the world full of tombs and dead bones. He felt the subtle jump to Hyperspace, they were gonna waste no time. After a few moments he spoke.

“Do you have any suspicions Master” he asked.

He knew whoever it was that their life was now forfeit. But who could have done this? He wondered to himself. There were not many Sith in the Empire who were strong in the Force. He knew his former Master was out there somewhere, then there was his Master and himself. As they made their way to the piloting center he thought on such things. Clad in his armor but minus the helmet. He never wore it in his Master’s presence as he took it as a sign of disrespect. But when in command or in battle he wore it. His Lightsaber clipped to the side of his belt. Their steps echoed through the halls. Whoever it was, would die this he knew, along with all of their followers.

Deep in meditation Silas could feel the rippling waves within the Living Force, disturbed by the powerful Sith that had been called to Korriban by his callous actions. While the distance and unfamiliarity that separated the duo prevented any attempt to recognize who was soon to arrive in the heart of Tormentous’s domain, Silas had little to no concern to this regard. Instead, the Sovereign sought to turn the tides on any ill conceived notion of confronting him. Placing his hands together Silas forged the necessary metaphysical connection with the Force to open the gate to the heart of a Sith’s true potential (Sith Sorcery). The whispers in the ancient language that originated on the very world Silas now dwelt grew exponentially louder as Silas’s recently forged armor resonated with the outpouring of darkness.

Raw, unfettered, and potent Dark Side energies rapidly filled the Sovereign’s being until it threatened to consume him completely. As the hue’s of Silas’s eyes were consumed with a sickly citrine even the High Priest his self was taken aback by the newfound pinnacle of his craft. The resonance between Silas’s armor and the ancient Sith Sorcery had created a living engine of darkness. Without Silas’s access the armor only granted an almost imperceptible regeneration of the Dark Side’s presence. However, utilizing the greatly misunderstood art of sorcery the armor’s hidden depths had come to light. “Come children; allow me to instruct you in the true nature of the Dark Side…” Silas spoke as he returned to his meditations now joined with the voices of every Sith that had every mastered the craft he now employed. By the time the pair reached his domain they would behold the High Priest at the very height of his powers.