G.Kn
Active member
IC: Darth Skyllan, 156 ABY
Location: The Spire, Stygeon Prime
(Flashback to Cato Neimoidia)
---
Darth Skyllan was hardly one to do social visits. They had very limited social interactions all things considered - especially recently - but services rendered deserved reward. That is how you keep one’s associates…. pliable. The man in question had proven to be quite interesting, ever since they had fought earlier in their respective careers Loharr Talem had proven worth following.
Two dozen or so silver rings float in the air, suspended without strings in a fire. A shadowy figure watched as the metal bands were heated. The symbol of a Neimoidian Spider Lily was on each ring, but faded from visibility as the entirety of the metal began to glow white hot.
As the Magaerra descended through the blizzard filled sky of Stygeon Prime, the force sensitives on the planet were made aware of a dread presence. The feeling of death and power emanated from the descending ship - a mix of Skyllan’s power and the darkness emanating from their Sceptre. The history of the weapon and it’s wielder, and the pain they’d brought was practically tangible in the air.
The rings had shifted from the solid state, driven there by the heat of the unnatural flame. An almost liquid silver writhed in the air as it was manipulated. Slowly and steadily it began to shape itself into something resembling the blade of a thin stiletto dagger with a full tang. A true assassin’s implement. It was quenched with a beautiful hissing noise.
The weather on Stygeon Prime, a beautiful but deadly storm of ice and snow, was halted. A sphere of clear skies followed the Kazellis-class Light Freighter as it descended. Visually, one might describe the ship as a beautiful metal bird, descending unimpeded through the air. Untouched by the blizzard plaguing the rest of the planet.
From the darkness surrounding the shadowed figure and the silver blade being worked into existence, streams of crimson fluid began to creep towards them. The bodies of the Spider Lily Syndicate, were barely visible in the background. The location had been quite well hidden for amateurs, which meant Skyllan had been able to ascertain it and the bodies within with little difficulty.
Magaerra descended close to the Spire, a large fortress-like building worked into a mountain. It seemed to be on course to set down roughly a klick or so from the structure. As it descended a broadcast went out to the Spire, the ships clearance codes had already been transmitted of course given that they’d gotten this cose, but the broadcast itself simply said: Darth Skyllan, for Knight Loharr Talem.
A vicious snapping sound filled the air as the femur of the leader of the group was broken telekinetically into very exacting shapes. Two halves of a bone handle joined the still softly glowing silver stiletto and the orb of blood floating before Darth Skyllan. The ivory moved steadily to fit around the tang of the blade. The blood slithered towards the creation, coating the blade in a crimson so dark it might as well be black.
As the ship came in to land, the orb fending off the weather maintained itself, burrowing into the ground to an extent. The ship touched down in a hemisphere carved into the land. The earth that had been dug away forming around the ship as if it were a shield for when the master was absent. Speaking of the sith in question, just before the cover finished forming a large dark figure emerged from the earth.
Soft chanting in ancient sith filled the underground lair as it was illuminated by far more than the embers of the fire that had been used earlier. Power had flooded the cave, calling to the dead and the darkness of this den of dead assassins. The remnants of what had transpired in this place manifested around the chanter. A sith and his pet had purged this place of life, striking down any who dare to exist within its walls.
Two large, black leathery wings spread from the figure and they took flight. Darth Skyllan, the Dread Angel, moved through the air with little more than a skin of the force on them. Unlike their ship, the sith master would not be easily phased by moving through the blizzard. Their Sceptre, the crystalline weapon they’d killed so many with, hung in their grip as they crossed the sky.
The chanting had changed now, crescendoing as the words were imbued with great power and potency. The dagger before the sith practically screamed as the dark artificer inflicted their will upon it. Perverting the materials beyond nature’s intent. Corrupting it and infusing it with strength and sharpness far beyond what such a weapon should possess.
The s’kytri sith touched down at the entrance to the Spire. Their dark armor serving almost like a shell around their body as the fiery orbs they called eyes took in the building at close range. A slight smile spread across their face. It was not a nice smile of a friend, but a cruel thing that promised pain. It was lessened perhaps by the lack of likelihood for murder in their immedite future, but there nonetheless.
In the lair, all the light and sound stopped at once. The only two things apparent, were the darkness, and the soft hissing as the weapon bonded together in truth. Then there was nothing.
---
@Loharr Talem - respond when ready.
Location: The Spire, Stygeon Prime
(Flashback to Cato Neimoidia)
---
Darth Skyllan was hardly one to do social visits. They had very limited social interactions all things considered - especially recently - but services rendered deserved reward. That is how you keep one’s associates…. pliable. The man in question had proven to be quite interesting, ever since they had fought earlier in their respective careers Loharr Talem had proven worth following.
Two dozen or so silver rings float in the air, suspended without strings in a fire. A shadowy figure watched as the metal bands were heated. The symbol of a Neimoidian Spider Lily was on each ring, but faded from visibility as the entirety of the metal began to glow white hot.
As the Magaerra descended through the blizzard filled sky of Stygeon Prime, the force sensitives on the planet were made aware of a dread presence. The feeling of death and power emanated from the descending ship - a mix of Skyllan’s power and the darkness emanating from their Sceptre. The history of the weapon and it’s wielder, and the pain they’d brought was practically tangible in the air.
The rings had shifted from the solid state, driven there by the heat of the unnatural flame. An almost liquid silver writhed in the air as it was manipulated. Slowly and steadily it began to shape itself into something resembling the blade of a thin stiletto dagger with a full tang. A true assassin’s implement. It was quenched with a beautiful hissing noise.
The weather on Stygeon Prime, a beautiful but deadly storm of ice and snow, was halted. A sphere of clear skies followed the Kazellis-class Light Freighter as it descended. Visually, one might describe the ship as a beautiful metal bird, descending unimpeded through the air. Untouched by the blizzard plaguing the rest of the planet.
From the darkness surrounding the shadowed figure and the silver blade being worked into existence, streams of crimson fluid began to creep towards them. The bodies of the Spider Lily Syndicate, were barely visible in the background. The location had been quite well hidden for amateurs, which meant Skyllan had been able to ascertain it and the bodies within with little difficulty.
Magaerra descended close to the Spire, a large fortress-like building worked into a mountain. It seemed to be on course to set down roughly a klick or so from the structure. As it descended a broadcast went out to the Spire, the ships clearance codes had already been transmitted of course given that they’d gotten this cose, but the broadcast itself simply said: Darth Skyllan, for Knight Loharr Talem.
A vicious snapping sound filled the air as the femur of the leader of the group was broken telekinetically into very exacting shapes. Two halves of a bone handle joined the still softly glowing silver stiletto and the orb of blood floating before Darth Skyllan. The ivory moved steadily to fit around the tang of the blade. The blood slithered towards the creation, coating the blade in a crimson so dark it might as well be black.
As the ship came in to land, the orb fending off the weather maintained itself, burrowing into the ground to an extent. The ship touched down in a hemisphere carved into the land. The earth that had been dug away forming around the ship as if it were a shield for when the master was absent. Speaking of the sith in question, just before the cover finished forming a large dark figure emerged from the earth.
Soft chanting in ancient sith filled the underground lair as it was illuminated by far more than the embers of the fire that had been used earlier. Power had flooded the cave, calling to the dead and the darkness of this den of dead assassins. The remnants of what had transpired in this place manifested around the chanter. A sith and his pet had purged this place of life, striking down any who dare to exist within its walls.
Two large, black leathery wings spread from the figure and they took flight. Darth Skyllan, the Dread Angel, moved through the air with little more than a skin of the force on them. Unlike their ship, the sith master would not be easily phased by moving through the blizzard. Their Sceptre, the crystalline weapon they’d killed so many with, hung in their grip as they crossed the sky.
The chanting had changed now, crescendoing as the words were imbued with great power and potency. The dagger before the sith practically screamed as the dark artificer inflicted their will upon it. Perverting the materials beyond nature’s intent. Corrupting it and infusing it with strength and sharpness far beyond what such a weapon should possess.
The s’kytri sith touched down at the entrance to the Spire. Their dark armor serving almost like a shell around their body as the fiery orbs they called eyes took in the building at close range. A slight smile spread across their face. It was not a nice smile of a friend, but a cruel thing that promised pain. It was lessened perhaps by the lack of likelihood for murder in their immedite future, but there nonetheless.
In the lair, all the light and sound stopped at once. The only two things apparent, were the darkness, and the soft hissing as the weapon bonded together in truth. Then there was nothing.
---
@Loharr Talem - respond when ready.
