OOC: The Following is a combined offering from Darth Dreadwar and I.
THE COMING OF THE DREAD-KING
IC: Darth Dreadwar & Darth Vassago Astral plane of the Force Erietta was not alone.
That would be the first thing Darth Vassago would notice. The second would be that Terminus was no longer alone, either. Beneath Vassago, the vision of his temporary home planet, growing smaller and smaller as he ascended into the aether of the Force's energy, was cast in shadow by a dark shape silhouetted against the radiant energy of the astral plane. Another planet, yet not a smooth orb of sandy brown and forest green as Terminus, awash with life. This world was a hulking ruin of blasted black rock, misshapen and crumbling, with two vast craters like the empty sockets of a skull. It was crawling with the dark side, visible twines of sickly green energy crackling like lightning over its deep rifts and abysses.
And floating above it, voluminous dark cloak flapping in an invisible cosmic wind like the wings of an avenging angel, was a man of seemingly middle-age. He was sitting cross-legged, beside and slightly behind Erietta, a hand placed menacingly on her shoulder. His cruel features were sharp and angular, with pale skin stretched taut over high cheekbones, thin lips curled in a sneer of cold command, and harsh grey eyes that seemed to glint yellow in reflection of Terminus' sun.
For all Vassago's power, there was not one hint of the strange man's aura in the Force. It was as if he did not exist within the Force at all, leaving no waves in the ocean of energy around them; a blank spot around which one's Force senses inexplicably slipped, unable to find purchase in probing.
The enigma spoke, coolly, confidently yet cordially. "
Salutations, Lord Vassago. It is a pleasure to meet you... Or meet you again, perhaps, not that you would recall me heretofore." The entire astral plane briefly flickered like the sky in a storm, as the lightning of the dark planet ahead flared forth to split the sea of stars around them. For a split-second, Vassago would not see a pallid man; instead, silhouetted against the brilliant white of the lightning flash was the ominous and opaque outline of a ghastly specter, wearing rippling robes with a fathomlessly empty hood. As thunder ripped the celestial heavens, the flash was gone and the man resumed speaking, sneer softening into a sardonic smile. "
I am Dreadwar."
The darkness settled around Vassago. His eyes fixed on the ominous dark figure that sat behind Erietta, her astral form stiff to the touch of the intruder. There was no sign of distress on her face, she looked just as calm and centered as she normally would, but her signatures were unnatural to him. He silently stretched out in the Force and beyond, searching Erietta’s aura, and felt her unrest; normally the wise woman was very calm, even when feeling exasperated, and hardly a thing could be sensed within her. However, the specter to her back seemed to have an unusual effect on her. He pushed through her aura and began to reach out to probe the presence behind her…but found nothing.
Vassago extended his legs and began to walk forward on the seeming nothingness of the cosmos surrounding the trio, stopping just before reaching Erietta’s form. The words spoken, the name, hung heavy in the air, like a thundercloud looming overhead. The name rung in his ears over and over, like the beating of a drum.
Dreadwar.It wasn’t a name he was particularly familiar with, not from first hand experiences, anyway, but he had heard the name. Of course, he had. Even through his self-imposed exile, he was stayed abreast of the Sith and their activity throughout the Galaxy, as any wise man would. In the beginning, it was out of self-preservation, having fallen out in spectacular fashion. But as time went on, he found himself caring less and less, the years giving him distance, as well as a new perspective on events in his past. He kept to himself, away from any influence the Sith had, preferring to remain on the outskirts of the Galaxy, as close to the Unknown Regions, and as far from the Core Worlds as possible.
Still, Vassago knew the moment would come. Since the day he left the Sith Order, he knew. When he saw the Agent, near the city with Sabba, he knew well that his time on the run had nearly come to an end. However, he didn’t expect to see the Dread King so shortly after the encounter in the desert, nor did he expect to see him on the Astral planes, where he found himself going to escape the pull of the world around him.
Vassago remained even, and calm, though he could feel a swell of annoyance at the intruder’s presence on the realm. He turned his eyes to the visage of the Dread King, and inclined his head in greeting to the shadowy figure.
“
I see you received my message, good King,” he said, his voice carrying a tone of respect with it. He smiled wryly before continuing. “
I must admit, your Highness, I didn’t expect our meeting to come about so quickly,” he placed his hand over the tattoos spanning his chest, “
I am honored you felt I required such urgency.” He began to step by Erietta, offering only a small, subtle gesture to her, as if to communicate there is no need for alarm.
“
Tell me,” Vassago began again, coming to rest only a few paces in front of Dreadwar, “
what brings you to our part of the Galaxy?” He nodded slightly toward Erietta as he spoke, though she didn’t move much, only readjusting herself to keep both Sith in her field of vision.
Dreadwar splayed his hands invitingly, as if conveying open honesty. "
Why, you do, of course," he replied easily. "
All my agents are implanted with a crude transmitter. When their heart stops, a signal is broadcast to my throne." He pursed his lips. "
Your cruelty was unnecessary, and yet the instrument of my discovering you." His left hand waved idly. "
And no, your cruelty was not a message... or at least, not one you intended to send right away. You would not have been aware of such implants, I think, so now you bluff me, seeking to retain your position on the dominance hierarchy through conveying the image of effortless and confident adaptation to this unexpected development."
At this, Dreadwar smiled thinly. "
Which, for future reference, is futile. One level higher, I play, and I do not need powers of probity to pierce the veil of any deception, however trite." Dreadwar paused, analysing Vassago's words further. It was clear the Marquis was attempting to coolly assert himself, to portray himself in a certain way, but even the characteristic ego of a Sith Lord was not preventing him from showing respect, whether it be in his tone or his acknowledgment of Dreadwar's royalty, however wry. Dreadwar was obliged to return some measure of deference, lest he seem too aloof to court Vassago effectively.
"
But then," Dreadwar continued, "
to pierce the veil of space itself... that is a rarer gift." He cocked his head, cold grey eyes measuring Vassago curiously yet calculatedly. "
Nowhere in the archives of the New Sith Order can be found recorded your mastery of the Force Storm, Vassago." It was a guess, but one Dreadwar was confident in making; it was not reductionist to postulate that whatever being had come to Terminus via Force Storm several years before was any other than the founder of the New Sith Order before him.
A priori, it was likely a Sith Lord of significant power had created it, given its incredible rarity and affiliation with that which lesser beings conceptualised as 'the dark side.' A posteriori, it was obvious Vassago was that Sith Lord. "
Most impressive, I must say."
Darth Vassago breathed a laugh, turning his face down while shrugging off most of what Dreadwar said, only the tail-end catching his attention. He had half a mind to reply to each of his points, specifically the words about his alleged posturing for the benefit of the intruder, but refrained. He would rather not dignify it with a response. He waited for a moment, turning his eyes toward the Dread-King's countenance once more before replying.
"
There's no need to pander, my friend. You and I both know you've seen much, and a storm in the Force likely doesn't come close to the prestige of 'impressive'," Vassago told him, his tone one of humility. He didn’t want to engage in any sort of conversation regarding his powers, assumed or otherwise, as he was sure Dreadwar knew much of him already.
"
But it left an impression, nonetheless," Dreadwar replied, nodding and chuckling approvingly at Vassago's answer. "
And if you are so quick to call me 'friend...' Then perhaps you will be good enough to share the story that led to your conjuration of Storm, and your surely hasty flight here thereby? Between friends, of course."
Vassago lowered his head for a moment, breathing a small laugh before replying to Dreadwar. "
Ah, but your majesty, I'm afraid that story would bore someone such as yourself," Vassago responded, a wry smile spread across his lips. He wouldn't be so quick to divulge any pertinent information with such ease, not after only just meeting the Dread King. Instead, he felt he would attempt to direct the conversation more in his favor, at the very least, get Dreadwar to explain his abrupt presence within this plane of the Force. "
A more interesting tale, I think, would be the one of your reason for seeking out myself," Vassago turned a hand toward Erietta, "
and my Master." Erietta remained calm, maintaining her cool demeanor in the face of their unknown guest, one who she could feel was full of cold and dread.
"
I fear my tale would also bore you," Dreadwar replied. "
Not because it is not captivating in content, but because it is overly lengthy... My story having began over seven thousand years ago." Dreadwar smiled faintly, eyeing Vassago's reaction at the revelation of his astonishing antiquity... And more importantly, at what secrets of immortality had to underpin such age.
Vassago's eyebrow arched at the words, his curiosity piqued.
Seven thousand years? That was quite a span, and if the implication was correct, that would mean Dreadwar lived the entire time, in some fashion or another. Much of his own research in his time away from the Sith was into immortality, a subject he was fascinated by. He had learned many rituals, some that would help him regain his youth, but so many were temporary. He'd yet to find anything that really granted such a thing. "
Master Erietta and I are in no hurry, I assure you," the aged man's ethereal form, glowing with that azure coloring, motioned downward to the woman still sitting beside them, "
surely you can spare a story? Perhaps the tale of how you came about your age." Vassago knew in his heart that Dreadwar wouldn't play so easily into his hand. No man would willingly give up the secret, or one of the methods of immortality for nothing. Surely, Vassago knew, if he wished to learn, there would be a price to pay.
And there was. But it was a price Dreadwar would exact later; merely sharing the story was harmless, for the great rite of his devisement was magick more recondite than any, requiring not the Force - which Vassago possessed in apocalyptic abundance - but the
death of the Force. Without Dreadwar's tutelage, the Marquis would never be able to replicate it. And so Dreadwar spoke, not in hushed whispers of dark secrecy, but in the grandiose tones of a historian lecturing on a bygone age. "
It is a tale you are privileged to hear, my good Lord Vassago," Dreadwar said. "
For you will scarcely find it written by even the most ancient of Jedi Archivists. Much that once was... is lost... for none now live who remember it."
THE HUNDRED-YEAR DARKNESS
Dreadwar smiled again, and this time, it was a wicked thing. "
But that is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons... even death may die." Pride shone in the man's eyes. "
I am undying, Lord Vassago, and thus I yet remember, for I am verily the story's architect, lifeless... yet deathless." Dreadwar turned his head, staring at the misshapen planet to his left. "
Come and see," he hissed, and upon the instant they were diving through the palpable clouds of darkness that wreathed the planet in shadow. As the swirling darkness resolved into a surface of barren, lightly forested wilderness, dimly lit by a distant sun's reddish radiance, the innate understanding would come to Vassago through the Force, that he was seeing the planet not in its current state, but seeing it as it was untold millennia ago, before some unknown cataclysm had robbed it of its sun, robbed it of all life and broken its surface into a black and blasted ruin.
"
It began with my forging of the Great Amulets," Dreadwar continued, standing beside Vassago and looking towards a distant jungle. "
Know that in an age long gone there were twelve Jidai, great Masters of Jidai, revered beyond all the rest. Yet in their pride came arrogance, and in their arrogance came their downfall. When I returned from my sojourns to the fledgling Republic, tiny by your astrographical standards no doubt, they knew not that in my journey beyond charted space I had found a primitive Force-sensitive species called the Tsis, and having ripped their knowledge of black sorcery from their heads, become their first Lord, in secret. With such newfound arcana fresh in my mind, I weaved dissent within the ranks of my Jidai colleagues. The great Masters took my creations without question, one by one falling into shadow." The smile broadened. "
Even to this day, they are slaves to my will. The Jen'ari, Shadow Lords, neither living nor dead, at all times feeling my presence, chained to the power of my greatest amulet." Dreadwar raised his left hand, revealing the golden gauntlet upon it, embedded with a smooth, spherical crystal that glowed and pulsated with bloodshine power.
"
One by one, the free systems of the Republic fell to my power in a hundred years of dread and war the likes of which the galaxy has never seen again." Dreadwar's smile dipped as he turned from the distant jungle, and pointed behind Vassago, bidding him look. In the arid plain between the jungle and a gargantuan monolith towering above them all, an army bearing lightsabers of every stripe and colour marched on a horde of slavering, rabid aliens with red skin and protrusions of bone and flesh. Vassago would no doubt recognise the hulking profiles of long-extinct Massassi warriors. "
But there were some," Dreadwar scowled, "
who resisted. A desperate alliance of Jidai, and dark Jidai discontent with my rule, marched on the armies of Nilrebmah."
Nilrebmah. That was the name, then, of the planet Vassago saw - and now stood on, watching as the army of Jedi and Dark Jedi met in tumult with Dreadwar's own, lightsabers flashing and hacking, halberds flinging spinning discs of metal, spears and swords clashing. "
At the foot of the great Monolith I had erected, they fought me... The Jidai for the freedom of their realm, the Black Legions for their own. They believed victory was near... But they knew not that everything was proceeding as I had foreseen." Dreadwar cast his eyes upwards, towards the unfathomably vast obelisk of the Monolith. And standing atop it... was Dreadwar himself. It was impossible to tell from this distance whether the vision of the ancient Dread-king's countenance was the same as the manner in which Dreadwar presently appeared, but the gauntlet he held aloft, golden as his battle-armour, was unmistakable, It was shedding tremendous dark energy, crimson currents rippling forth from the apex of the Monolith as the ground began to quake.
"
One level higher I stood," Dreadwar spoke in a hush, as if reverent of the moment to come, "
in cunning and in literality. And with the thousands of Jedi and Heresiarchs gathered on Nilrebmah, I had the final ingredient for my greatest ritual, a dark rite I had slaved over for all one hundred years of war, experimenting, calculating... testing... on Korriban, with a gem of Force-sensitive stone that I implanted into my own vassal Dathka Graush, on Ambria, with my apprentice and lover. An invented sacrificial ritual..."
The Dread-king of the past exploded.
The entire planet shook.
The Force ripped open.
And both armies were instantly annihilated. "
...that consumed the life force of them all." The Dread-king of the present had vanished also, and yet his voice remained, an insistent whisper in Vassago's ear. As Vassago watched, the wave of desolate power continued to spread, leeching the sand and soil of saturation as every blade of grass and every tree turned to ash. "
Not just the Jidai, not just the traitors, but every man, woman, and child on Nilrebmah died that fateful day, seven thousand years ago. Every beast in the field and fowl in the air, every fish, all the insects and plants; every living being touched by the Force... I devoured them all, murdered them all, as Nilrebmah died." Even as the sky split asunder and thunder roared in the heavens, the violent, chaotically surging energy of the arcane explosion began to shift around the Monolith, clearing the view. But it was not dispersing or dissipating, no; it was
coalescing. Gathering. Darkening. And before Vassago's eyes, the dark energy began to take form atop the Monolith, where the Dread-king of the past had once stood. "
Their power became my power," the whisper had become a sibilant hiss, echoing as if emanating from far away, from the darkest depths of a tomb, "
and even in that moment as I died, alongside every other living thing..."
The form the shadow energy was taking was unmistakable. An opaque specter, silhouetted against the bleeding sky, a shadow against sanguine flame. The visage of a wraith known now to every being in the galaxy, borne upon every hologram and propaganda poster, instilling terror in the hearts of his subjects, his enemies and his victims. "
...I lived, and yet live! Stealing the Force energy of my victims to realise my ultimate goal, to shed my useless and frail vessel of flesh and blood to live as energy, to live immortal as an entity of pure Bogan power!"
There was only
Darth Dreadwar.Staring down at Vassago, past and present had become one, and the terrible wraith of darkest undeath remained affixed in place like the monolith he stood upon as the planet seemed to fall away from beneath Vassago's feet, returning him to the swirling sea of stars above, to Erietta's side. And Dreadwar whispered still, the sepulchral speech leeching from the rippling void of his empty cowl as he towered over the misshapen dark planet he had tethered his spirit to in the greatest and most terrible rite of Sith history. "
And that, my Lord Vassago," the ancient wraith threw back his cowled head in a peal of harshly rasping laughter, seeming to mock the heavens and taunt the will of the Force, "
is the tale of how I came about my age."
The tale the Dread-King told was magnificent, replete with power and dominance, was nearly unbelievable. However, Vassago sensed no deception, and truly there was no benefit in spinning a grandiose tales of
lies to Vassago; truthfully, he was in no position to offer Dreadwar anything the Dread-King didn’t already have. In his own lifetime, Vassago had seen many things he initially thought unbelievable, such as destroying a continent with a storm of the Force. And yet, it happened…by his own hand. It wasn’t often that Darth Vassago, was left with a feeling of awe, nor was it often he was inspired by the tales of another. No, not since he first heard of the glory of the Dark Side, and the power within it, did he find himself so enraptured by a thought.
The feeling of immortality, or eternal life was nearly radiating off of Dreadwar, and Vassago could taste it. Erietta could sense it too, and along with it, she could sense her Apprentice’s lust for it. In her time tutoring Darth Vassago, teaching him of her way of life on an Astral plane away from the pull of the Galaxy at large, away from the power struggles within divided factions, she learned he desired to be immortal. She offered to teach him her ways, though it was not physical immortality, it was still a conscious realm of life never-ending. Initially, he had no interest in the idea of being intangible, living amongst the cosmos, proclaiming he had no desire to “drown in a sea of stars” when there was power to obtain. However, over the course of their time together, Erietta impressed upon her strong-willed Apprentice there was
greater power than that offered in the physical, tangible world. With time, Vassago opened himself up to the idea, and Erietta believed he had finally been awakened to the power and life beyond the physical realm.
She believed.
She was
wrong.
Erietta realized in that moment that Vassago lusted for physical power once more. Though he learned much through her, and his power and knowledge of the realms beyond had grown exponentially, she saw a spark within him. That spark that was previously a burning inferno, an inferno she believed she had extinguished, flickered to life once again. Her eyes turned downward, then up to the aged Dark Lord.
“
Changing your mind seals our fate, Nielas,” she spoke in a hushed tone, disappointment evident “
there is nothing for you but pain in the path you seek, pain that you swore to leave behind.” Her words pushed into Vassago’s mind, the sound of his given name causing his jaw to clench. He never heard his given name, no one that he had ever associated with knew his true name. Erietta was among the very few.
“
My fate is my own to decide,” Vassago proclaimed coldly, turning his eyes over his shoulder to glance down at the aspect of the woman beside him.
“
If you choose to abandon your learning now, you will go forward alone, Apprentice.” Her warning came across harsh, but her tone remained even. She did not show any emotion, though Vassago could sense some disappointment within her.
“
If the tale Dreadwar told holds truth,” he began, turning his eyes back to the Dread-King, “
then his knowledge may prove more valuable to me, Master Erietta.” Vassago’s voice grew cold as he spoke, full turning his back on Erietta, a gesture that would not be lost on her.
The empty cowl swivelled, affixing an invisible pernicious glare upon the serendipitous form of Erietta. Within the darkness of the hood, pure consciousness, bereft of the computational limits of neurons, analysed Erietta's words. The fact this woman was teaching Vassago meant her objection was clearly not on moral grounds, nor stemming from primitive notions of dualism. No, instead it had been raised after Dreadwar's lesson - and her reference to a path Vassago was taking, that had once caused him pain, likely represented the path any Sith with sense - so, very few - pursued. The subject of Dreadwar's story. Immortality. This Erietta's presence in this astral plane, on the other hand, indicated Erietta was not opposed to the concept of transcending the fleshly bounds of mortality, but rather... The method? Dreadwar would have deduced that she had qualms with the sacrifice, if it wasn't for the fact she was clearly comfortable teaching a man who had just murdered Meliaglu, and had no doubt killed thousands, directly or indirectly, in his tenure as a Dark Lord of the Sith. No, it was more likely she was... "
I deduce you are uncomfortable with the notion of seeking material immortality, Erietta," Dreadwar hissed, rapidly and precisely, only two seconds passing between Vassago's words and his own. "
But am I material? I think not. You would fill Vassssago's head with notions of becoming one with the Force, of retaining one's identity as one passsess from the Living Force to the Cosmic Force... Yet you peddle mythsss. This technique of the Shamans of the Whills, mastered by certain Jedi across history, is merely the art of performing what I have accomplished... without the ssacrifice to furnish the energy needed to fuel it. As such, unbound to a physical anchor, one cannot exist within the Cosmic Force for long... And one ultimately unsspools, unravels, their energy dispersing and their identity lost for all time. Death is not truly gainsssaid." The cowl tilted. "
You are not a charlatan, I sense, but I have no doubt your teachings are simply, scientifically, epistemically... wrong."
Erietta only offered a tile of her head in response the Dread-King, focusing on the cowl and the visage beneath. “
I feel you’re too quick to discount my teachings, Darth Dreadwar,” she spoke to him directly for the first time, “
When you know very little of them. There is value in residing in this realm, your presence here shows me that you understand that. The ability to traverse the cosmos in the blink of an eye, to view the Force and all that it binds in such a new light, the strings which hold the very fabric of the universe together. But beyond that, here true peace is achieved. No longer is there the constant fear of upheaval or defeat. Gone are the ideas of power struggles and betrayal. There is only…” Erietta extended both of her hands for a moment, palm up, pulling all present out of swirl of the finite galaxy around them, and pulled them into the infinite space of the cosmos, with seeming endless pathways and planets. “
Eternal knowledge among infinite worlds. Even you,” Erietta paused for a moment, gesturing toward Dreadwar, “
have some limitations. Even you shall know death, should the proper pieces fall into place. You’ve only just extended your life by continually ensuring that those pieces do not fall into place. But they could…” The words of Erietta spun through the sea of stars surrounding the trio, leaving an impression on Vassago.
The teachings were of two different philosophies, two different dies of the same spectrum, it seemed. Both had merit, both had their place in the big picture, as it were. But Vassago knew what Erietta offered, he knew the end-game with her. For some, that would be enough; a sure bet that achieved a goal. Yet, for the aged Dark Lord, it was not. To him, her option was also the second choice, as his original goal was immortality within the physical realm, something the Dread-King seemed to hold knowledge of.
“
Your teachings are not lost on me, Master Erietta.” he began, turning his attention toward her glowing azure form, “
however, Darth Dreadwar may hold the key I have long been seeking.” Vassago let a regretful smile fall over his lips as he spoke to the ethereal woman, and he turned his attention toward their guest. “
You speak of this power, Good King, but do you possess the power to teach…” Vassago’s word hung heavy in the air, thick with implications of the future.
Darth Dreadwar entirely ignored Erietta. Vassago had already made his choice, it was obvious; attempting to continue the pitch after the sale was already made tended to have the opposite effect of the intent. Erietta's useless babble was not true wisdom; it was what Dreadwar called 'pretending to be wise.' Drawing on literary cliches and appealing to vague mysticism to appear to possess insight beyond ordinary sophonts, masking a deep ignorance of the underlying nature of reality. One only possessed wisdom, one only possessed true knowledge, when one could explain a thing so that a young child could understand. Darth Dreadwar could certainly explain the secret to eternal life so that Vassago could understand. "
I can teach you, Lord Vassssago," the empty hood rippled as the rasping hiss gusted forth, "
but not here. You ignored my ssummons to Korriban, going by your killing my agent. There are too many enemies there, perhaps... Or too many memories. But the secret of my immortality also underpins my ability to be in many places at once." As Dreadwar was talking, the veil of nebulae behind him began to part, as space warped in on itself to spit out a wedge-shaped vessel of war, piercing the astral plane like a dagger heading for the heart of dreadful Nilrebmah.
A Star Destroyer.
"
Come to Nilrebmah, Lord Vassago," the Sith Emperor said. "
Come to the ruin my ritual left, and I shall teach thee." Dreadwar raised a claw of his gauntlet. "
But know this. My homeworld, buried in the darkest depths of uncharted space, is caught in the inexorable pull of a singularity called the Gunninga Gap, veiled from all probity by the forbidding Perann Nebula of the Nihil Retreat. Your art of creating Storms will not pierce such spatial anomalies - and attempting might cause the storm to turn upon you." Dreadwar turned again, this time his fathomless hood seeming perilously ready to swallow the apparition of the Star Destroyer. Vassago would perceive that the spaceship was not, currently, at Nilrebmah; instead, the insight into the Cosmic Force his astral meditation provided was showing him the future. But that is not all Vassago's well-attuned senses would report; the ship screamed with the souls of men dying in pitiless battle, rending the void of space with cries no one could hear. Yet the most significant aspect was an evil and overpowering presence that seemed to eclipse the entire spaceship in the Force, a malignant aura that Vassago had felt only once before. On Makatak, five years ago, during the attack - specifically, when the wicked priestess had prayed to an unhallowed god with a name Vassago had never heard prior.
Typhojem. It was an awful surge of evil power strong enough to almost drown out Dreadwar's words. "
If you are to come to me in all haste," he was saying, beginning to fade into the void, "
you may use your mastery of Storm to close the distance as far as possible, but you must board a spaceship to reach me." The planet, and the embattled Star Destroyer above it, began to fade as well. "
Come to me, Lord Vassago. Stretch out with your feelingssss... and you will know the way." And then Darth Dreadwar, Nilrebmah, and the vision of the ship, were all gone.
When the visions faded, and Dreadwar vanished along with them, Vassago turned to Erietta for a moment, then back to the space where Dreadwar had previously been. “
I must go,” he said quietly, his head turned downward. His tattooed chest swelled, and he let out a sigh before turning back to Erietta, her eyes dropped at the words he spoke, knowing the implication. Her face began to crack, a bit of emotion showing through her normally stoic façade.
“
You will do what you feel is right…” her voice trailed a bit as he walked by her, passing through the twinkling lights around them, “
you and I will meet again.” Her voice carried with it certainty, as if she had already foreseen a reunion of some type. She did not attempt to stop him, nor did she move to advise him any further. Rather, her the blue glow of her form faded and Vassago was left alone. He stood for a moment, realizing the choice he had made in that moment. He was turning his back on the teachings of a being he had grown to trust, for those of a being he knew very little of. He hadn’t become the man he was by playing things safe, however. This journey into the unknown wouldn’t be his first…
A rumble, followed by a brilliant flash, and his eyes opened. Vassago found himself inside the dimly light dwelling. He started to his feet, unaware of how much time had gone since he’d retreated to the room after his small disagreement with Renfelt. The disagreement about his Apprentice.
Sabba, he said to himself, realizing only then, at that moment, that he wouldn’t be able to leave her behind. He hadn’t considered her in any of his dealings with Dreadwar, nor had he thought of the danger he would be putting her in. He’d invested too much in her, and her future, to simply leave her behind. She would have to accompany him on his travels, whereas Renfelt, a capable tracker, would be left with simple instructions.
Through the Force a scream echoed, piercing into Vassago’s ears. His legs buckled, and he stumbled forward into a wall, catching himself on his arm. He hung his head low, his eyes squeezed shut as the scream tore through his mind like a siren. He recognized it all too well, the same scream, the same presence he felt years ago on Makatak. He sharpened his focus and honed-in on the location, pushing through the waves of turmoil in the Force. With a hand on his temple, he waded through the blurred lines and the pulsing waves of the scream to find its source…the large starship that Darth Dreadwar had shown him on the astral realm. That was where he needed to go, that was the ship that he needed to be aboard to reach the Dread-King’s location.
Vassago pushed himself off the wall and regained his balance, standing idle for only a moment. He threw his hand out, extinguishing the candles in the room, causing a small cloud of smoke to form and trail around him. He left behind his tattered old cloak when he exited the room, and moved to the spiraling staircase as quickly as he could, making his way down into the forest. With his command of the Force he threw open the door and marched in, interrupting a quiet conversation between Sabba and Renfelt. The urgency in his body language was felt by the two in the room as they jumped to their feet, seeming to stand at attention with the arrival of the Dark Lord.
“
Renfelt, my belongings, quickly” he commanded, gesturing up the stairs of the main dwelling. Without any hesitation, Renfelt darted up the staircase and disappeared into the Dark Lord’s chambers. Sabba’s eyebrows turned upward as she caught the look in her Master’s eyes, she could sense his impatience, and it left her feeling uneasy. “
We must go,” he stated plainly. He turned his eyes from his Apprentice to find Renfelt coming down the stairs with the Dark Lord’s lavish cloak draped over his arm, his chest guard and gauntlets within the grip of his right hand, while the large walking staff was held in his left.
“
Master?” Sabba’s voice was laced with confusion. “
Has something happened? H-have they come?” She asked, the concern in her voice growing. She didn’t know who “they” were, but she remembered that her Master had always warned they’d come. Not since Makatak had she seen her Master in such a state, it was truly unusual for the man to break his normally cool demeanor.
“
There’s no time, we must leave. Gather what you need, we will not be returning to this planet…” with his words he caught a glimpse of Renfelt’s expression, the man had arched his brow and tilted his head. While Vassago covered his chest with the chest guard and began strapping the fingerless gauntlets to his forearms and wrists, he turned looked to his trusted servant. “
You’re to leave. However, I will let you to decide when. I sense we will meet again, old friend. Trust your instincts,” the aged Lord told him, taking the heavy feathered cloak from the man. He threw it over his shoulders, securing the ensemble together, and threw the hood over his bald head. Renfelt smiled confidently and nodded, trusting in the Dark Lord’s vision.
“
I will find you, Voktys.” he stated quietly. He turned to Sabba, his eyes following the young woman as she ran to gather her belongings. Sabba wrapped her scarf around her and pulled her cloak across her body, and grabbed hold of the worn leather satchel, the same she had from Makatak, and threw it over her shoulder. “
Keep her safe,” Renfelt requested in a hushed tone, his hand on Vassago’s forearm. “
She is special,” he said, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
“
No harm will come to her,” Vassago replied simply, offering a nod to Renfelt. With those words he took a hold of the walking staff and turned toward Sabba; the young woman was still gathering her things, unable to complete her mental checklist in such a hurry. “
We’re leaving,” he commanded, his strong tone interrupting Sabba’s search. The young woman jumped and turned to face her Master and saw Renfelt beside him, and offered only a small, simple wave, a somber grin on her lips.
Vassago threw his cloak behind him, not wishing to waste any more time, and made his way out the door. He made for a small clearing in the trees, not too far from the dwelling that had acted as a home for five years. He stopped, foliage and leaves crunching under the toe of his boots, and gazed over his shoulder to ensure Sabba was following. When she reached him, he turned his eyes to the heavens and inhaled slowly, deeply. The red-haired woman stood silently behind him, off to his side, and watched as clouds began to coalesce in the sky. The air began to turn, growing noticeably colder, and the leaves in the trees rustled. She felt a rumble, and all at once movement from underfoot. She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth, her body beginning to tense from the surging power of Vassago.
His eyes shone white, glowing from beneath his cowl, and the hushed tone of his whispers could barely be heard over the rustling winds. He was reciting his incantation, quietly at first, but his voice grew louder with each passing moment. The gathered clouds, swirling above the pair, grew darker and darker, until they were as black as soot. Thunder rolled over head, rumbling like a low flying starship, and pure white bolts of lightning began to streak across the blackened sky. Within him, power untold was gathering, growing stronger and stronger, his body becoming a conduit for the energies of the Force itself.
The storm in the clouds overhead was raging, and a massive funnel cloud began to form, following the motions of Vassago’s hand. He finished his incantation with a thundering shout, his staff slamming into the ground, and with that, the heavens erupted. Sabba’s eyes widened and she stepped a bit closer to her Master, remembering exactly what happened on Makatak.
The sky cracked open.
A literal storm of Force energy spewed from the darkness of the clouds, descending onto the planet below. A mighty clap rang out, so powerful the trees in the surrounding forest bent back from the force, and a massive pillar of lightning crashed to the ground. Vassago extended his hand to his side, for Sabba, while his eyes still glowed white, his entire mind focusing the powers of the deadly Force Storm; a single misstep in his concentration and he could potentially kill them both, or destroy the entire mass of land that was Terminus City. Sabba chewed at the backside of her bottom lip nervously and closed her eyes, clasping her hand on that of her Master. And in the blink of an eye, the two shot into the storm, traveling faster than a starship, tunneling through the very Galaxy around them. They were off the planet of Terminus within seconds, cascading through a massive rift in the Force; to anyone in the open space that saw it, it would appear as a swirl of clouds and lightning, spiraling through the sea of stars.
With his mind, the Dark Lord Vassago directed them through the vast expanses of open space, toward their destination: the ship that Darth Dreadwar, the Dread-King, had identified as the only option to enter the system that housed him. The screaming in the Force that was emanating from the ship was like a beacon in the Force, illuminating the way for Vassago’s psyche. He could sense the turmoil from their destination, and began to sense life on the embattled starship as he grew nearer.
Finally, their destination was before them. With great care, Vassago focused the Storm to drop them
inside the ship itself. It was no small task, amongst the turmoil of the volatile Force Storm, but this was not Vassago’s first time conjuring or controlling such a Storm of the size, nor was it his first time directing his precise location. The Storm lessened, slowing as it approached the craft traveling through hyperspace, and he whispered. When the words left his lips, his command shifted the Storm, and with a thundering crack and blitz of lightning, Darth Vassago and Sabba were transported.
Heavy smoke swirled around the two, residual lightning from the Storm streaked, crackling in the air near their bodies, and there, within the
hangar deck, stood the imposing image of the cloaked Dark Lord, Darth Vassago, and his Apprentice beside him.
The Star Destroyer would not fall, no. It would carry him to his destination, to his meeting with Darth Dreadwar.
The Star Destroyer:
Triumphant.
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