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Author Topic: Ash to ash, dust to dust...  (Read 557 times)

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Offline Ryshias

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Ash to ash, dust to dust...
« on: 01/17/17, 11:34:03 AM »
(OOC: The sound that inspired this paragraph: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-Jq5ABwhCg )

"You do not know what is to be left out, Ryshias!
You were chosen from the start, you had a powerful Sith Lord on your back, talent, and that thing...I had nothing.
NOTHING!
Now I am mad, and I'm going to kill you"

"It is my duty to stop you, Lord Haar. Your crimes against the Republic have gone too far.
To murder innocent with fire, to purge houses in the name of your cruel empire.
I'll take you to Justice."

Darkness.
Always in my trail.
They whisper my name.
But I do not want to answer.
For I am the dark omen they dreaded.
And I was slave to monsters.
But no longer.
My chains are free, and my soul is enraged.
I am vengeance incarnate.
I am Haar.


The Sith slightly opened his restless eyes, bags of sleepless night just accumulating slowly into his gaze. His emerald iris wandered around the metallic waiting room in the Imperial Citadel, decorated with diverse Imperial iconography and fancy red cloths and leather that decorated the couches, floor and the robes of the Imperial Guard. He slowly rolled his shoulder, uncomfortable as always in the code dress to this kind of meeting. Armor is more comfortable, for him it was almost as a second, more durable, replaceable skin, that could last longer.

"My lord, just a few minutes, the Ministers ar-" An almost invisible attache approached him, seemingly watching several other datapads at the same time.

"Just warn me when she's ready." He cut her off.

"Yes, my lord." The attache, almost as fast as he surprised the Sith, left through the labyrinth of durasteel hallways.

Ryshias leaned back on the couch, as his memory reminisced of his last months out the grid. Almost a full year of war, death, ravage and destruction. Lost blood in a now ending conflict that reached his climax, but he couldn't place what was missing. He felt guilt, sadness, the blind rage of losing so much, the stomach wrenching that kids feel once they step in their first day at the educational systems. No, it was more.

"I don't feel...regrets." He whispered to himself, as his conscience wandered in the memories. He had seen all his soldier's faces, man, woman, alien, every single one of them, but he did not feel the struggle of losing them. Just numbers. Just names. Replaceable. Disposable.

"You once were my tool, my apprentice, a machine I used to dispose of my enemies.
Now, you're a liability that turned into a threat, a hound who turned against it's master..
But I still hold the collar on your neck, Valeus, and I can still make you bow at my feet."

"I love you, Ryshias, and we shall be together, for eternity."

"She has decided to afford an audience to your request, Lord Cirtas will be here shortly to listen to your case. Lord Haar, please come this way." An Honor Guard woke him up from his trance.

Ryshias opened his eyes, then smirked.. "Well, it seems the former Councilor still remembers the name of her old soldiers."

"It's Empress now, Lord Haar." The Guard quickly corrected, almost in a way a droid would. They were programmed for obedience, it seems.

"Empress Acina...I like the sound of that. As well as Emperor Haar does, don't you think?" He chuckled, as he raised from his seat. The 6''8 of the man towered against the almost standard frame of the guard, who just stood still.

"Now, let's go see the new Empress' lackey, I have a few reasons to believe the rebuilt of the old unit will be something she would like to hear." His steps echoed in the room, as he strode towards the Throne room, a step in the right direction, towards rebuilding, towards his rise again to the top of the food chain. Darth Haar, Ryshias Valeus, was back in the Empire, and he would make sure everyone knew that now.

The Wolf has come back to the forest.
"I decided to let shadows into my mind, and they revealed the ultimate truth. The galaxy is sick. I shall be it's cure."

Offline Ryshias

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Re: Ash to ash, dust to dust...
« Reply #1 on: 06/19/17, 12:14:02 AM »
0900 Hours
Iokath, Unknown spire, Iokath Conquest Campaing




The smell of charred flesh and burned metal had faded among the minutes gone after the end of the skirmish. The small, rooftop room had once been used as a makeshift Republic command post to monitor Imperial activity in the southern side of the artificial celestial body, specifically those related to the Imperial Wild Space Command. Serene voices born from Jedi Commanders mixed with the technical language of SIS operators and Republic soldiers, who had been working long nights and days with the intention to make sense of whatever the Imp's were after, a commendable crusade to stop the tyrannic Sith nation from gaining the technological advance to rule the galaxy and slave all freedom and democracy to a corrupt and meritocratic system that rewarded the strong over the weak. Injustice. Evil.


Words like that were the ones ringing through the mind of Iajer Phox, a Dantooine born-and-raised trooper from the Empire, while he walked around the corpses of the once users of the command post. The Republic was evil, corrupt, unbalanced and unworthy of existence. They were a failed old system that was dooming the galaxy to years of darkness and ignorance. The Sith Empire was the beacon of light among the lost and the dammed, a place where hard work and cunning was rewarded, not through connections and bureaucracy, but through actions and power. He knew he was fighting for the freedom of his family, former slaves, and to give a better future for his daughters back at Kaas.


A blue blade of light cut short his train of thought, alongside his torso, his eyes wandered around the room in awed surprise expression and terror-filled tears. Was this the end of him? How could he return now? What would her daugh-


"Why did he die?"


Haar's sight ,and every other Imperial aligned gun,locked on the last remaining Jedi, a badly wounded Master and his enraged Padawan. The body of the Imperial trooper made a choked thud before reaching the floor, and the silence settled in once more. It was stretched further before the Padawan spoke.


"Get...back. I warn you all, we are two Jedi's, and you're only a bunch of sucker puncher's with a big dude at the front...we are more than a match to you." The young togruta scoffed like a rabid pup, protecting a beaten progenitor from a pack of silent predators.


The soldiers took a few second to actually made any movement, though an anticlimactic hiccup from a scared recruit gave away the current situation. Almost everyone in the room was terrified of the other. Did the propaganda-filled adrenaline had faded away? Did war, for a second, showed it's true face to both sides? Did they even realize what was going on?


Two silent gazes wandered around the room. The Master and the Sith scouted around the debris of the before massacre like a field of grass, then their gazes met. Both had so much difference in their eyes, yet an equal, the red and black of the Sith worked against the light blue of the Human Jedi. Grey, short hair against ebony, long locks. A gargantuan and imposing figure against a lithe and somewhat fragile frame.


Two creatures molded by war, hardened by pain and suffering. Both knew the dark face of War, but only one knew that peace was equally as terrifying.


"Fear...that's why he died..."


Darth Haar raised from the destroyed command table he used to seat, and took a step in front of his troops, the blue light closely following his movements. The Jedi Master observed the Sith with more care and detail, and then, he realized. He raised his hand to his protege, and called on to him.


"Gohanna, please, do not fight, run...he isn't a normal Sith..." The struggling voice had to cough blood to formulate the phrase, not as serene as he had been hours earlier, but with conflicted and worried voice. Those eyes.


"No, Master, I shall fight, I will defend you, and I'll prove you I am worthy of being called a Jedi Knight, I'll claim vengeance for those killed in this coward ambush...I'll kill this Sith."

"And fear...is why you will die..."


The Sith raised a hand, and the troopers took cover around most of the room, most of them just outright leaving it through the holes in the wall and floor they used to breach in. They sensed it, they all knew what was going to be done. Vengeance would be claimed.


The Sith slowly detached his blade from his belt, his red and black eyes staring deep into the Togruta's iris, piercing through the surface to reveal the fear and rage within. He slowly took guard, and he awaited her assault.


An spinning blue strike, a dark red parry and a flurry of cuts in a obscure and dimmed room. A gutural cry. A thud. The Force shivered around the room.


Haar stared at the Gohanna's eyes again, now visibly horrified and further enraged, the yellow taint of corruption from a side of the Force all too familiar to him. Her skull shivered beneath the weight of the metal boot, while blood poured from her red lips, smoke faded from cut limbs, and pain racked nerves in a broken body.


The Master observed with sadness, and deception. Weakness.


Haar gaze wandered from her to him. Apprentice and Teacher were both in opposite ends, one had been long avoiding the abyss, and the other was about to fall in it. Him? He was at the bottom of it, he was the master of the abyss. He was the abyss.


He softly spoke.


"Do you still believe in demons and spirits, Master Khross? Those fantasy tales you used to love reading in the Taris Conclave? You believed those explained several behavior conflicts in the Force. The unfitting ends of a shaping mold that could not find the right place to be, those...events that were beyond the explanations of scholars and Jedi that studied the Force for centuries before any of us were conceived. You said that you could explain why the Sith were evil, that they worked with spirits of vengeance and wrath. Deceit and betrayal. Spirits that were demons, who unbalanced the balance in this grim galaxy. You loved those tales."


The Master mind jogged to memory, he did in fact remember all those tales. How gifted children soon to be taken to Tython were delighted by those, and how he left them all in awe and admiration for his knowledge and storytelling skills. His eyes begun to shatter like crystal. Was he...there?


A grunt from the Gohanna stopped his reasoning, she was on a losing effort against the pain and death. He had to act, soon, gather strength. Raise. Fight. But first, he needed to know.


The Sith just stopped a minute before continuing.


"I took those tales with a pint of resentment and disappointment. I was not going to master the full extent of the Force? Even with such a gift, being sensitive, I was still limited to bounds and laws of a invisible power? Even those above the common and normal were still being held in larger prison cells? Why? Why did we have to be prisoners of our own existence? Why did we have to bound in collars and chains as we were supposed to make reality shift to our whims? I held this questions for long, but then, the Empire came, and I couldn't begun to answer it."


A captured child. Him. The emerald-colored eyes and the white as snow hair. It couldn't be who was standing in front of him, now a monster through and through, could be?. A savage and ruthless warrior with a merciless reputation for bloodshed and voracious hunger for battle.


Fear can change even the strongest of us?..


"Now, in the echoes of my life, I have realized that we are forever bound, that the Sith Code is also a lying format. We cannot free ourselves of destiny and it's hands. They web threads and threads made of our lives and decision and make us a spider web of interactions and consumption. We have become what we were meant to become, we embody what those spirits couldn't in their abstract world, Master. I have learn that I cannot change my way, no matter how much I push. I hurt people, I kill people, I make others feel my eternal pain by enforcing it upon them. I make them feel how I feel. Is it that bad that I just make them be emphatic of myself?"


"Perhaps it's bad...perhaps is wrong. That would make my existence a whole wrong that must be righted. A mistake in the web, a hole. But, then, if that's what I am, then that is my destiny, to make them all holes in the web of life. To make them see that to live is to be evil, because we always cause suffering and pain to others, intentional or not. I make them see, I make them be emphatic, I make them suffer vengeance from denying this. I take what you give, and I give what you take. I've become Vengeance. I've become Haar, the embodiment of Vengeance. I am Sith because it was meant to be, and that makes me hurt...so, in return, I'll hurt you all. I'll give you what you've been negating others by excusing yourself with mercy and justice. "


"That's not justice, that's not mercy, that's foolishness, that's evilness, to deny others the right to feel how you do, is to be selfish and arrogant, to be blind towards the constant shown that peace is a broken concept. We constantly take while we are alive, selfish love and appreciations, fake respect and friendships. I'll give you something better. So, tell the Jedi to come, tell them to take vengeance upon my doings. I'll give you death back. I'll free you all from this wretched destiny and vilified galaxy. I'll show you the true justice of the grave."


The dark and red saber pierced through the padawan's remaining life lights, and shut down her struggles. He eyed the Master, and turned away, walking towards the dark night ahead. There were further kills to reap, further pain to sow. And he would do his work as Vengeance, as Darth Haar.
« Last Edit: 06/19/17, 12:34:13 PM by Ryshias »
"I decided to let shadows into my mind, and they revealed the ultimate truth. The galaxy is sick. I shall be it's cure."

Offline Ryshias

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Re: Ash to ash, dust to dust...
« Reply #2 on: 09/25/17, 12:39:23 AM »
Blood.

The liquid that goes through our veins, fuels our bodies and carries the nutrients for our muscles to move. It boils when anger overtakes it, and goes cold when we die. I've been losing quite a few liters of it actually...

Oh? You assumed someone else but myself would narrate my own story? That I would actually not remember anything? I remember, all of it. Perhaps this is a delusion caused by this near-death experience, and you're not actually reading this Holocron, and are but a fragment of an imagination it left this galaxy long ago.

Bah, silly worries for mystics and theorist. They like to think in this depth. I don't. I'm a pragmatic man. I see what is in front of me, in the immediate future, I do not think what will happen a thousand years in the future, when I'm merely another footnote in the wheel of life and history. Perhaps I will be forgotten, this holocron destroyed by fanatic Jedi trying to override whatever "heresy" we write here. Make us be ghosts for the children. Legends. Tales. I hope mine doesn't end with me dying.

Ha.

Hahahahahaha....

It's a good joke. I swear. It goes with the irony of my current situation, bleeding out to death and being hastily dragged away from a burning cluster of durasteel and flesh. A shuttle, that was blown up from the sky. Republic Anti-air gunner must be proud of that shot, quite good actually. Bam, through the engine...

My second in command died on instant, burned to death by the initial explosion. He was trying to get a snack. Sorry Anathios...I should have been faster with the Force Shield... (What? You never saw a Sith grief for losing a friend before? How do you think we are made? That we just appeared?)

I wonder what Lash is doing right now. Perhaps cooking food to our little hope, our future and legacy. I would love a taste at the moment...just one more bite...a kiss...a hug...

I feel my body moving, like shivering and reacting. I act on instinct alone, sometimes. Like a beast within me wakes up and takes over all my body, rolling, cutting, dodging. I see a missile move away from us with the Force. I see my legs, one of them barely hanging by burned flesh and scarred skin, melted with bone, running like it was just a morning in Korriban. I see the face of a Republic soldier, so young...blonde, nice eyes. I may have took him to bed if there was the chance. (What, another surprise? You thought I only liked women?...Such rude stereotypes ya'll have)I just see the terror in his eyes as he dies. Beautiful terror.

I feel it, the itch in my hand. Do I have to? It's a losing situation, I've gotten out of them before...No, this is not a losing situation...

We already lost.

The itch turns into action. I hate that. Like you've barely have time to think everything, and you're already acting. I hate people who have that capability, to act right away without thinking.

I hate myself.

I see the Force swirling and twisting. A Jedi, away in a hill, turns to me, his face going from mild surprise to a paralyzing fear. He shivers, he kneels. He realizes what is going to happen, what should happen. He knew me, even if I just barely saw his lekku and realized his Twi'lek origin. He knows hope is gone for him, and he wants to make peace to himself. A couple of soldiers stop by him, urging him to go on while yelling questions. He doesn't answer, because he doesn't have to. A shadow answers it for them.

I've been refraining from using this technique, took risky on the body and in my allies. It causes a incredible strain on my own...but it's sheer power can obliterate everything in the area. Nothing is safe. It's safe to do now. I'm alone, or partially alone. Barely few of my men have survived the ambush. My train derailed and they just scrap the rests, killing...and executing.

They promote freedom and tolerance. They think they are the saviors of this decadent and agonizing galaxy. They believe themselves...the good guys.

They are not.

My arms shatter, as the gravitational pull from the black core begin to become too much, and the Force just takes and takes more. I barely keep conscious as the massive asteroid begins to to shape, form taking from massive rocks leaving the ground and raising up around the small black sphere. My left arm gives in, bones completely shattered, muscles breaking apart and my skin bleeds. I feel the crack of my armor leaking my life fuel off as my only arm remains up, barely holding itself together.

And then it falls.

I see nothing. A massive shock wave throws me into a black out. I don't know how much time has passed. A minute? Ten? Maybe an hour...

"My lord!" I hear. A lieutenant, from a forward squad. He removes the rubble out of me with his soldiers. A shuttle waits a few meters away. I see only dust, and rock...and death. I gaze upon the hill the Jedi Knight once stood. He's hugging a little girl. I shed a tear. I didn't...I didn't want that. I just wanted to give them back what they did. I..

Civilians were trapped in the impact. It wasn't until I got spread upon an operating table that a doctor mentioned they found me among the crater of a city centre, where the train was ambushed. I had killed at least a thousand people with a single technique..

"His arm will be immobile for a least a year...what do you want us to-"

"Cut it off."

"But my lo-

"Cut it off."

I daze off. The anesthesia...or the blood loss. Perhaps both. An arm. That's what I've given this Empire. I traded an arm for more than a thousand innocent lives.

Help me.
"I decided to let shadows into my mind, and they revealed the ultimate truth. The galaxy is sick. I shall be it's cure."

Offline Ryshias

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Re: Ash to ash, dust to dust...
« Reply #3 on: 10/22/17, 09:43:38 PM »
2100 Hours
Imperial Black Site, Dromund Fels


Darth Haar spitted spitefully into his torture's boot. Blood and saliva smeared the black boot as it turned, the guard repositioning, and another strike to the head, a constant that had been repeated in the last twenty minutes, bloodying the floor and walls with more fluids from the Sith's body.

"Well, that'll do for about three hours. You'll pardon me, my lord, but traitors should be punished...or at least appear to be." The quirky voice of the prison guard, named H'krasson by the uniforms chest tag, apparently, echoed in the small black chamber.

"I'll make you clean the whole ship for this..." The Sith Lord struggled to breath. His thorax, bruised and scratched, may have suffered more than anticipated, but anything to keep appearances. He knew the black site, used it before, and all the staff and personnel knew and was loyal towards him, perks of being a good and disciplined commander with them.

"Yeah, yeah...you got 10 minutes." The guard offered a towel, but the Sith declined with a simple head shake. As he shrugged, the door opened, and a couple soldiers went inside the room, followed by a lightly armored individual; dressed in a tactical vest, low armor and carrying a heavy sniper rifle in the back. Tyrgunn moved swiftly, and faced the Sith. The remaining people left the room, and the door shut back.

The Sith raised from his chair, breaking off the chains used to contain him. He streched his body, as his flesh and metallic fingers moved slightly.

"New arm?" The sniper slightly remarked, his cybernetic eye focusing on the bulky, ebony black left arm, decorated with cables, cybernetic data cores and small red lights. It resembled fully a normal arm, except for the details. Adhered at shoulder level, the scarred flesh at the edge of the unknown alloy seemed to have taken in the new appendix.

"Yeah, last one was destroyed beyond repair. Top technology, this one. A phrikrite alloy, cybernetic sensors and even a small shield generator. If I knew I could get this thing, I would have cut one of my arms sooner." The Sith responded with a small grin in his face. He raised his arms up, and clenching his hands on a pipe above, he started to do pull ups, a battered body, and yet exercising like it was a normal day. Enough to draw a small stare from the sniper.

"Your wife is going to want answers." The sniper sharply replied, after a few seconds of long silence, except for the hisses of the artificial arm, and the grunts of the Sith.

"I know...will you..." The Sith answered without gazing at the sniper. A sharp nod was the answer.

"Someone called your office. Urgent, something about Queen Vedriat. They want you to assist somewhere." He pulled up a datapad, seemingly showing the invite to the Sith.

"I see. Then things are going far worse than imagined out there. It seems you'll have to break me out soon rather than later."

"Indeed. Nothing to be done about the charges?" The sniper questioned while he gazed the datapad again.

"Nothing, I fear. Whoever leaked the documents made sure they were all verifiable. I guess I'm screwed in that sense...It's been a while since I've been attacked this way." He grunted in pain after a joint of his natural arm jolted up. Getting old was never comfortable.

"So you're basically dead weight for the Empire. No wonder they'll try to disappear you in some dark-corner-Emperor-knows-where." He let out a small sigh, then gazed upwards at the muscled Sith.

"I still have the Iron Dragon." He smirked back at the gaze.

"It exists?" The sniper's organic eye widened.

"Yes, it is very real, and very functional. It was hidden away somewhere...safe."

"Then...not everything is lost." The sniper smirked, then placed the datapad in his backpack. He nodded, and made a break to leave the room.

"Tell Lash I'm sorry...that I'll see her soon..." The Sith mentioned, as he dropped below. A big thud hit as the pale feet touched the metallic ground.

"I will. Keep alive until then. I'll see what I can do." He smirked, then knocked in the door. It suddenly opened, and the sniper left as swiftly as he opened.

The Sith stared at the small, white light that illuminated the whole room. He smirked, as he closed his eyes then, and started to imagine the black space...and the darkest sun...and the bony metallic structure.

The Iron Dragon.
"I decided to let shadows into my mind, and they revealed the ultimate truth. The galaxy is sick. I shall be it's cure."