SithLore

=Korriban (Moraband), Emperor’s Citadel=

Darth Warvanus, Right hand of the Emperor, had free reign inside the Citadel, his footsteps echoed in the halls , he had invested a lot of time and resources into planning. Something had to be done, and he knew very well that he most likely would not walk out of here with his life intact. It needed to be done. In the weeks leading up he had felt a disturbance in the Force, it was as if he had reached a crossroads, as the days pressed on the feeling grew stronger, till he could no longer ignore it, then the visions started. One common theme was the Throne of Skulls. In his visions he had seen a new Emperor take the coveted seat. That was himself. He had ignored these visions as he had no aspirations for it but like the disturbance he felt, they persisted.

He had made all the preparations he could. One way or another in the end he would be alone either by sitting on Tormentous’ throne, or he would be a corpse. He was not another hopeful to be forgotten he was a champion of the Sith Empire, the War-Bringer, the Warrior-King, War itself. A warriors path often was one that must be treaded alone. He had left instructions with Kinta Vetasa in the event of his demise. Everything was prepared.

He crossed the hallways, drawing closer to the throne room he drew on the Force to reinforce his mental shielding, (Force Shield) He would be unreadable by most who tried. He came to the doors to the throne room. There he stared at them as if committing them to memory for the last time. He did not relish on what he was about to do. It had to be done for the good of the Sith or maybe it was for the good of his mind or maybe he tired of being an agent and now aspired to greater things. Either way once he stepped through the doors there was no going back.

He nodded to the guards who admitted him. Once inside the throne room he walked in, he walked with a purpose, with power. He was not clad in his armor though he did have armor on. His Personal Shield generator clipped to the belt. Akaan Burkida sheathed to his back, along with a general prosthetic hand. Recently fitted, he would need both hands for the task before him. As always he bent the knee but he did not wait to be bidden to rise nor did he say anything as he did so. In his next words his purpose would be clear.

“Emperor Tormentous” he began “I have come for your throne”

He was not going to be like others who would call upon the galaxy’s strongest to bring him down. He deserved better, no he would do what he always done, face whatever is front of him, he would not take him on in a weakened state. No He would face him at full strength. He was not guided by a moral code of honor but he would give Tormentous all the respect as worthy opponent in the battlefield, he earned it. The Apex warrior, and Master of the Sith. If Warvanus' fate was to be death, then so be it. But now the crossroads of destiny were upon him.

---MORABAND
---CITADEL OF THE DARK ONE

Earlier that morning when the Emperor of the Sith Order had awoken from his meditations he had sensed that something from afar was coming. He knew it not for its intent nor identity but he could feel in his heart of hearts that a reckoning was setting course for his home and it would arrive with a promise of great and terrible things to behold. He was never one to worry over such things. The days came and left without such worry for paranoia was beneath him and so his day followed suit and he fought Kita in training for several hours until he sent her away to her studied in the Dark Arts. Alone again he heard the calling cries in the wind.

It was coming. He couldn’t outrun it nor had he notion to do so. Yet he failed to center his mind upon it in the circumstance to turn the tables and charge out to meet this harrowing event at the edge of his mind. He found nothing to grip onto within the Force and it infuriated him.

Resuming his throne he sat upon it, resting he head back where just above sat the skull of a Child of Nightmares and his left hand settled on his arm rest where the skull of Derric Starr remained. His right kept close to his sword. A single yellow glowing eye pierced out into the expanse of his throne room as he stared beyond the middle position of the hearthfire and to the massive doors - whoever was coming was going to breach those doors soon - he would not disappoint and he would face this challenge head on. His white right eye, dead and gone was lingering with the flame’s reflection dancing along a never ending ballet - it was a mimicry of the fire in his heart as he ground his teeth in anger.

The hours of the day passed onwards, midmorning move on to midday and midday moved on to the afternoon and the mid thereof. To Tormentous he did not feel the passing of time as others did as his concentration was focused on those doors and his mind was roosting in the Dark Side’s embrace.

Dusk arrived and he sensed a change on the wind.

There was no possible way that the Dark Lord of the Sith could mistake the identity of his Champion. Darth Tormentous thought of how to brief his pupil of the newest occurrence - that someone was moving in to strike at the heart of the Red Cauldron. That it was time to mobilize the guard and dispatch the Echani Assassins to seek out and slay this threat in silence before it aroused anything more than it had already. Yes, Warvanus would be key to bringing this new threat to light and extinguishing it - permanently.

Footsteps, confident footsteps could be heard echoing through the main corridor and Tormentous glared at the doors with fury in his heart. Something felt off. But he couldn’t place it. The doors burst open, the guards with their halberds stepped aside respectfully with their weapons held in salute to the Champion of the Sith Order. They closed shut and the guards retreated to the shadows.

Absolute.

Utter.

Silence.

The two looked at each other for a moment before Warvanus dropped his knee. In that moment the Dark One knew the truth. He did not see it coming though he should have. Warvanus - the finest warrior in the Sith Order. Grand General of Tormentous’ Armies and High Admiral of his Navies. King of the Warrior culture of the Order. Master of all that the eye could see. Bloody Right Hand of the Emperor most high. There was no boundary for this man. His word was that of the Emperor’s His will was the fate of billions at the whim of his voice.

His name was Darth Warvanus - the Betrayer.

Tormentous’ eyes fell to slits as he witnessed his Apprentice rise. “I did not think it would be you.” The Dark One admitted even before Warvanus exclaimed his intentions. When he did the Emperor did not move from his seat. His absolute unquenched fury and atomic rage welled within his very soul. A jest? No, his senses touched Warvanus’ mind to only be buffeted by an already prepared and erected Force Shield. No, this was very serious indeed.

Thoughts raced through Tormentous’ mind in that moment. This would not be as like the training spar they held some weeks ago. This would not simply be an exchange of warriors - steel on steel. This would be the display of two foes, fighting to the death in a raw exchange of power and aggression. Once his mind processed that which he needed - Darth Tormentous rose from his mighty throne of black iron and skulls. The Dark Side of the Force rushed onto him at his call and his outrage was upon him now.

His right hand traveled down towards his sword. Silver twine kept the leather bound hilt. His fingers touched the quillions and ease up to the leather where the wrapped his heavy hand around the haft and gripped his sword tightly. This contact showered the area in the power of the Dark Side as Tormentous’ conduit to the Force was applied fully. The Force cried out in terror and the Dark Side screamed aloud with the souls of the damned at his back as he took up the Sword of the Sith.

Jidai Maras

“No.” Tormentous exclaimed, there was no need to talk this over. He knew Warvanus had come to this decision through a long and thought out process. This had been a thing carefully planned and thought about. That much plotting garnered no retreat. Once Warvanus had strode through those doors - it was already too late to go back.

“You have come to die.”

He did not yet reach for Akaan Burkida.

”I did not want it to be so, but you know as well as I this is the will of the Dark Side , The apprentice challenges the Master, It is our way, I cannot escape it, just as you cannot”

What would maybe baffle or not would be that he came alone. He did not bring armies or conspirators, he came alone.

He unsheathed his blade. Akaan Burkida hummed as the blade was drawn. He gripped it in his hand. Then something happened. Tormentous would surely pick up on it. Was it a lapse in his control on the mental shielding he erected? Something inside stirred deep within Warvanus, something that had not stirred in a very long time. Something that had believed to have been destroyed, back on Bestine with that explosion. For the briefest of moments the bit that was truly Kell Sangros stirred for the first time. Had the chains began to slacken? It was long enough to falter for the briefest of moments. Warvanus crushed the would be uprising within himself and the mental shield reinforced.

“You have come to die.” He said

”Yes My Master, I have, but I am not going to make it easy for you” In that briefest of moments all Tormentous would be able to sense from his apprentice is conflict. Conflict that was thicker than any emotion Warvanus ever displayed. More conflict then when he had killed Feluela. In this newest course of action Warvanus realized two things. First he hated how the Dark Side brought them to this, he examined within himself over the weeks why this hatred then he realized it was another thing he felt. He felt Love, not romantic, but the kind that were shared by brothers. Tormentous was the apex Sith, and he learned from him all the way to this moment. Tormentous had felt more like a brother to him than anyone who had crossed his path and because of this, he had to do this he did not want to do this. But it wouldn’t stop him.

He took a breath, and waited. Who would attack first? The Emperor or Darth Warvanus the snake, the betrayer. He was in a sense the new Darth Traya, for betrayal followed him. Such as the corruption that had been done upon him.

He said one last thing to him “When I am gone , remember me not in this moment”

He then braced himself for the storm that was to be unleashed upon him

“It is.” Tormentous agreed, this was the inevitable way of the Sith, the Apprentice once come of power was destined to strike at the Master for it was only the strongest who deserved to rule and for the weak to serve. If Tormentous was struck down here today then Warvanus would only be fulfilling his mandate and should he not strike the Master down then it was for Tormentous to deal with the issue - and find someone who could. This moment was very much unlike the time when Blood had come for the Throne, he had come with the forces of three different factions from many walks of life and even then the deed was barely accomplished and then not without an incredible cost.

That Warvanus had come alone spoke a lot to his honor as a warrior. Though Tormentous suspected that his timing could have been better placed. Perhaps he could have chosen a moment of weakness or maybe once Tormentous was fatigued from effort somewhere - no - Warvanus had come to a Dark Lord who had his full capability and who would not hold back.

Some would look back on this day and remark it as foolish. But the warrior spirit inside Tormentous saluted this action. If you could not beat a foe at its peak then there is no glory to be had.

For a glimpse in time Tormentous felt something was not quite right with his favored Apprentice. There was conflict in him. He frowned within his mask - ‘Then he truly has come to die. Only a warrior of sound mind and in full control shall ever stand before me and win.’ He mused to himself. ‘Though I will honor him and give him a death befitting a warrior.’

His favored. That comment alone told volumes of how Tormentous felt. Warvanus was the third of his Apprentices who’d managed to succeed out of a great many that had come before - all dead and gone - yet here Warvanus stood above all the corpses of his so-called peers. Yet it was Warvanus that Tormentous had actually trusted where he’d not trusted Kroxata or even Blood. Warvanus was different - but there would be no regret for Tormentous here today. Warvanus had come with a goal in his heart and the Dark Lord would see to it that the stronger of the two would seat the Throne of Skulls in the end. This was destiny more than it was a simple choice made by two parties.

One by one Darth Tormentous descended the staircase of his unholy dais. Every step taken with a million thoughts and every other step with fewer as his mind wrapped around the only possible outcome of this fight. Another step taken and he was nearly there. His baleful eye never leaving his one time ally and now his worthy adversary.

The firelight of the hearthfire was casting a brilliant glow upon this field of battle. It was going to cast these two and their battle to be into a saga worthy of retelling by the firelight for many generations to come. The dead were more easily immortalized than those who remained.

Reaching the bottom floor he ceased his advance and looked upon the warrior that he had taken hand in creating. So much effort and so much time poured into Darth Warvanus, he did not regret a moment of it and knew that everything they’d been through was just a glorious page in history. Today was the epilogue in this tale - and they would make it worthy of song.

In a flash of light the dreaded Jidai Maras was host to a bolt of lighting traveling down its length, it had been a small thing though another bright flash welcomed another more broad bolt and seconds later a pair of bolts shuddered down its length as Tormentous called the sword to its peak of power. Furthermore the room began to descend in temperature at an exponential rate until their expelled oxygen began to puff from them both in vaporous clouds. Hoarfrost began to form on his right hand which encased the hilt of his sword.

With every passing moment these two warriors who stood a mere double sword length apart were coming closer to a moment where they both would launch onto the offensive and they would spell out the grand requiem of the Red Cauldron.

He watched as Tormentous descended the stairway from the sacred throne of skulls. He could feel the eyes on them. He had deduced that by challenging him one on one, no matter who won the Sith would be stronger. Whether he dethroned Tormentous or if he was defeated. He had been reminded of his mandate after meeting with the inner circle of the Krath. He had argued it, and it was them that showed the Warrior King that he demonstrated more loyalty to Tormentous than to the whole of the Sith. He had spent much time in meditation and in the end he realized he was right. It was a weakness, one he would purge either by ascent or by going the way of the Sith who came before him.

He had hate in his heart but not for Tormentous, no his Master was what he aspired to be, the power he embodied, his prowess as a warrior. If he were to die today then let it be by one such as him. He had hatred for the Krath for putting him in this position, he had hatred for the Sith for their nature and most of all he hated himself. He used that hate as he poured it into the Force, letting it empower him, sharpen him (Feed on Darkside) he gorged himself on his emotions he was ready.

”Today we make the Sith stronger” the strong ruled the weak served, Warvanus was not the strongest but he never considered himself weak and would rip out the tongue of anyone who called him such. He gave the briefest of glances down to Akaan Burkida. With his hand of flesh and bone he trickled lightning down the length of the blade (Force Lightning)

If Warvanus were to be the victor would the sith truly be stronger for it? Some argued no, the Empire would fracture into civil war as there were many who would not accept his rule. What those fools did not know was that was where Warvanus was strongest, was in the battlefield. He was the War-Bringer, the Warrior King, He was War itself. He lived it, breathed it, slept it. Everything he devoted his time to was towards that singular end.

He gripped Akaan Burkida with his mechanical hand, as he let the Dark Side wash over him (Enhance Skill)

”May one of us die well Master” He could have attacked as he descended the stairs but he did not , while Warvanus followed no code of honor, he would not dishonor his Master by using cheap tactics, it would be a disgrace them both. No if he fell he would fall as a honorable warrior. And so now the dance began…

Warvanus opened with a flurry of two handed short strikes, not over extend himself, the strikes were aimed at all different levels, first was mid level at the hip level, then low, then for the neck. And so the battle for the throne was upon them both…

Tormentous could feel his now ex-Apprentice fuel himself with the Dark Side of the Force and he could feel the swell of energies surrounding him as well. As by instinct (Force Shield) his barriers lifted without effort so that Warvanus would not be able to use much in the way of those dangerous mental powers that he knew that he had. Warvanus had likely been one of the most if not the most studied Sith in this age - to lose him here was unfortunate but necessary for the Sith way. But as learned as his pupil was, there was always something the Master could teach.

The Dark One clashed his sword against his foes and in this proximity he set in the hooks of his trap. Warvanus was immensely powerful - to deny that was foolish and therein would entice death. No - Tormentous couldn’t underestimate his foe and for this he gave the younger Darth the benefit of his full knowledge in combat and Force use.

Already Warvaus had drawn in incredible power from the Dark Side of the Force around him, (Alter Flow, Absorb) the dangerous energies of the Force swirling around Warvanus ceased to influence his pupil in as much as they should have. Tormentous’ very proximity to Warvanus allowed him to effectively entwine their energy fields and from there he altered the flow of the Force from channeling into Warvanus and instead using Warvanus’ own technique against him. Tormentous exhaled in delightful agony as such incredible power from Warvanus was absorbed by his own hand.

He felt unstoppable as he parried the next of Warvanus’ attacks. Yet even in this Warvaus was a deadly foe and his short strikes were fierce and prevented Tormentous from amounting an offense just yet. He kept parrying the blows away and once he blocked one outright when he was prepared to return the momentum back on his student. This block occurred in a well of sparks and smoke as converging bolts of lightning crashed and exploded with deadly force.

Tormentous flew onto the offensive, his Form V Djem So in flawless form as he reigned down obliterative heavy strikes down with jackhammer force. With the fuel Warvanus had provided him he was able to bring severe punishment down on his enemy in a way that would have taken significant time to do had he simply drew on the energies himself.

He had anticipated the alter flow technique his Master employed, it only fueled his rage as he was now on the defensive as Tormentous went on the Offensive. He knew the incoming strike was fueled by his gathered power as well as Tormentous’ own, only a fool would try to match supernatural strength with brute force. He could hear his first Teras Kasi instructor

“Best way to avoid an attack was to not be there” he could hear him say.

So Warvanus’ next course was clear, he had to avoid the attack altogether so that Steel would be met with air and so the War-Bringer would jump back he did not need the Force to do it as the jump would put them at two sword lengths away. He would have to use another tactic as he would not give him ground to use his own power against him. His attacks had to be direct with or without the Force. A lot of sith would balk at this, as most could not survive without the Force or were useless, Warvanus was not one of these, he trained in martial skills as much as in the Dark Side for instances like these. He would adapt and change his plan of attack, He drew on the Force , honing his mind, his body, his senses (Battlemind) he would not give up, until he was a corpse or the Emperor. He then threw a punch augmenting it with the Force towards the direction of Tormentous’ chest (Force Charged Strike) the attack was not strong enough to knock him off his feet, it was merely a diversion as Warvanus switched to the Makashi Form (Form II) and would turn this into an actual duel he came in again with measured strikes going high, low, middle, high again. All with one hand on Akaan Burkida, His footwork helped him execute these measured strikes again. It was almost as if he was fencing or at least an aggressive form of it.

So it came to this, Master vs Apprentice, Warvanus knew Tormentous would always have something to teach and had their positions been different he would have been content to study at his side much longer than he had. Knowledge was power. Briefly the memory of his dethronement came to mind and how he learned then and there he still had much to learn. Even now as a Darth and a Master in his own right he still had much to learn. To stop learning was to stop living. If by a miracle he survived and lost he would lock himself away and study and grow in power. But now his focus was on the present, and therefore this was his reality.

His blows were unbelievably powerful with speed to show for it as well, Warvanus’ power added to his own gave him literally a supernatural physical ability. It complimented his actions in Form V so well that he was more akin to a thinking, feeling machine that was capable of delivering untold wrath down upon his foes. Unfortunately for Warvanus he was the only target in the sights of the Dark One this time and Tormentous wasn’t interested in pulling any punches. He would find his sword buried in Warvanus’ chest for this - or he would find Akaan Burkida in his.

But Warvanus wasn’t any common foe and his reactionary speed was nothing short of impressive. He evaded and dipped away from the heaviest blows and parried where he could not. Avoiding these blows was truly the key to his survival at current.

The Apprentice came in with a punch at high speeds that were impressive by any such standard and (Danger Sense) Tormentous could instantly feel that to take this hit would stagger him and in a duel such as this it could mean the difference between life and death - particularly when the foe was a known warrior of this calibre. The strike came in hard and fast, there was no dodging it for the proximity was too near and there was no blocking it for the reasons he’d already suspected. Releasing one hand from his sword he shot that hand forward and caught the punch.

Such a powerful blow sent a shockwave down his forearm - his wrist, hand and fingers though went instantly numb even despite his armored gauntlet protecting him. It was an impressive strike and one that Tormentous wouldn’t soon forget. It was likely that he wouldn’t suffer another blow so well - if this be considered well at all.

Warvanus came back into the fight with Form II and the lightning speed in which this form could be executed forced Tormentous to pivot himself onto the defensive for the time being. He had little doubt he’d be able to turn the tables once more but after having his left arm temporarily disabled for all intents and purposes he needed to buy some time to recover.

Warvanus would capitalize on the offensive and press the attack, but would not overextend himself, that was a common mistake in fights like these, one combatant gets over confident and makes a mistake that can be very costly. Warvanus was not a amateur, he was a seasoned Battle Master, a King among warriors. This is why he would not switch from Form II to Form VII. The sound of steel upon steel clashing electrified the air as both had lightning surging through them causing sparks with each clash.

There were few who could stand toe to toe with the Warrior King , and even fewer who could weather whatever assaults he unleashed. Tormentous was such a one. He had afterall had a big part of forging him into what he was now and as such they reached what was inevitable despite any ambitions or desires Warvanus himself had. This was the cost of serving the Dark Side. There was always a cost. This one was significant.

He was showing his Master in this battle how learned he was not just in the Dark Side, or in Warfare but in Teras Kasi , and tactics, and the experience he had gained as a Sith apprentice, then a Sith Lord. Darth Warvanus would not yield and neither would High Warrior King, his Emperor.

Had the Dark Side betrayed him? Was he pushed into this conflict only to make his Master even stronger? Had he been duped into this convinced this was his only option? The thoughts rushing to his mind threatened his concentration and focus and he snarled at the Dark Side working against him. He renewed his attack, switching to the deadliest form of Lightsaber Combat known. Form VII let him channel his rage as his eyes seemed to deepen in the shade of radioactive yellow.

He then threw a low kick aimed at the knee in an attempt to get him off his feet, even if for a moment. If he could do that then he could deliver the killing stroke. Only if the opportunity arrived would he be able to bring himself to actually do it. He had to to hesitate was a dishonor to himself and his opponent. The move was a simple one, but he was ready if it met only air or was countered. If he was not armored he would employ the pressure point technique that he had taught Kita a short time earlier.

As the fight went on one thing was clear to Warvanus, the Dark Side was not with him and in his mind it meant one thing… His use to its’ service was no longer needed.

His hand had begun to tingle again as it was brought from the depths of the numbing blackness. It had been a fine strike Warvanus had thrown. Soon though Tormentous would be able to resume his attack with both hands on his sword but for now his Djem So would have to be single handed, which in a way was fine as he maneuvered his giant sword as a conductor utilizes his wand, but the security of having both hands on his sword versus one was paramount in this fight. Patience - in time he would strike Warvanus down and resume his duties to the Sith Order.

He also had not truly tapped into the Force just yet to aid him. Sure he had touched upon it and sapped an initial skill used by Warvanus but he’d not really jumped in yet with both feet (Feed on Dark Side). There was so much emotion in the room that when Darth Tormentous opened his sense up to them he drank in a swath of pure energy - even the stuff roiling off of Warvanus was just as potent as he could have ever imagined. Apparently the Darth was conflicted and this only fed into Tormentous’ reserves. It was as he was stealing so much from Warvanus right now - his strength, speed and stamina, and now his energy produced by emotion. Whatever was troubling Warvanus he was giving his opponent the tools to easily overcome him - in theory - execution was different for Warvanus was a fine Warrior and would not be so undone.

The facts still stood - Warvanus’ body, mind and senses were working against him. This day would most certainly end with the Throne adorned by his skull.

The deadly warrior king switched his Form once he presumed an opening had appeared and he drove Tormentous back some distance. By now he was flexing his left hand over and again, he was nearly ready to resume the fight himself. Form VII was probably the most difficult Form to fight against because it was so passionate in its use and aggressive nature. But for Tormentous he knew enough of battle and warfare that he would be able to survive this bout and counter when the opportunity presented itself. If Warvanus had remained in Makashi then Tormentous’ Djem So would have taken him apart - but now the duel would continue much longer and be more severe in its passage.

Though even for Warvanus’ raw talent and skill and his accompanying Form VII which amplified his abilities, Tormentous’ had been very patient and he’d built himself up for this moment. He was ready.

Then it came at him, a perceived opening on his behalf begat a low kick from Warvanus. This was just the maneuver Tormentous was waiting for. Pivoting away from the kick (Telekinesis) he used his left hand, two fingers shunting so much pent up energy of the Dark Side to his every command. He gripped Warvanus’ leg with the Force and tossed it in the direction of Warvanus’ kicking momentum. While the War-Bringer had painstakingly meant to not overextend himself, Tormentous was going to sway the matter if he could. Granted - Warvanus’ Force Shield was in place and protecting him from most telekinetic attack but this was an effort directed to Warvanus’ poor footing now that he was on one leg. It also was an attack against an already distracted and flustered mind.

In all likelihood Warvanus would manage to fend off the majority of the attack with his shielding - yet if only it brought him out of position just a bit then Tormentous would punish him dearly for it.

As a follow-up Tormentous lashed out in a vertical upswing of his sword aimed to cleave the extended appendage from the body. The targeting was aimed so that even without the Force’s help would Tormentous’ sword spill blood. But if the telekinetic strike work to any extent then Warvanus would be hard pressed to avoid this one and if he chose to block it then already being on one foot it would have a good chance of putting him in a very precarious position.